#package design fails

[hometoursandotherstuff]

[junislqve]

ᯓ million dollar — ot7

syn when the members spend their (unlimited) money on you. (1770 words)

pairs richboy!members + reader | cw mentions of money petnames — mlist navi

notes richboy members are having a chokehold on me lately

LEE HEESEUNG

“take as much time as you want, love”

earlier that day, you were scouring your closet for a decent dress. flipping through the same five for the past hour.

your boyfriend, grumbling about how you should get back to bed, watched as you pick up the same clothes. his eyes never leaving your figure, staring up at you through the mirror you were using to look at the picks.

heeseung slowly got up and hugged you from behind, burying his head on your neck. kissing your shoulder blades up to the back of your ear.

“do you need a new dress, love?”

after very few talking from heeseung and much more complaints from you, he somehow convinced you to get ready.

and that is how you’ve ended up in one of the famous streets in your city. lined up with the prettiest boutiques and malls.

heeseung wrapped his hands around yours and walked to a favorite store of yours. remembering how you’ve ever mentioned how badly you wanted to go back and buy something from it, months ago.

walking in, your small pout turned into the biggest, heart-pounding grin he’s ever seen. he bit his lip containing his own smile and dug out his wallet.

“spend it all on anything you want, baby”

PARK JONGSEONG

as a musician, looking at instruments is like strolling through heaven. admiring all the small intricate details engraved.

jay loved his guitars like it was his own child, he understands what it’s like to spend thousand and even more on just a single guitar. not that it would do anything to his bank.

you’ve never really asked jay for anything for as long as you’ve been dating. rather using your own money to buy whatever you want than letting your boyfriend buy it for you.

it wasn’t like jay didn’t want you to buy things using his card, he actually offers it most times than not. it was you who never lets him buy anything for you.

“use my card to buy the groceries, babe”

you refused to take his card whenever you could. because of this, jay has learned to pay without you knowing. usually when your back is turned or when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

right now, your boyfriend is tagging along with you as you browse through the island of pianos; ranging from yamaha to bluthner.

you stopped abruptly as your eyes fell on a piano that had you immediately captivated, from the design of the lid to the shape of the pedals, you thought it was the most beautiful piano you’ve ever seen.

when you were admiring the piano, trying out the keys and sitting on the soft cushion of the chair. you failed to realize your boyfriend had silently called the seller and slid his card. smiling down at your frowning figure.

“it’ll arrive by tomorrow morning, love”

SIM JAEYUN

“but you look so good in these, babe”

opening your apartment door with a click, the lights turned on to greet you with the copious amounts of packages laid on your living room.

the packages were of different sizes and stacked side by side. what’s worse is that you can’t remember buying all of the things you did, having to open up each package to know what and when you bought them.

you called up your boyfriend, who had brought in all of your packages earlier in the day when he paid a visit to your unit to pick up a small bag you forgot to bring.

“i seriously need to go on a ban”

“no you don’t baby, besides, you use my card when you buy anything” jake says, laying his head atop yours as he turned on a movie an hour ago to stop your fussing.

“that’s not the point, jake. i need to stop buying random things online. i can’t keep flooding my bedroom” you sigh.

“then just put the things you don’t like anymore in my apartment, you’ll have more space that way” jake smiles down at you, kissing your temples.

that was one week ago. somehow, he had convinced you to ‘accompany’ him on a late night rendezvous to prada. it was all fine at first when he was just looking at the suits. but now, he’s trying to convince you to buy two pairs of their new summer series glasses.

“i can buy this next time, babe” you finally say, sighing, after letting him talk about all the new luxury pieces of the summer set, desperately trying to talk his way into letting him buy you one.

“oh” he trails off, a sheepish grin creeping up on his face “about that, i’ve already paid”

PARK SUNGHOON

as a person who always loved the mountains, you find yourself spending weekends driving up one usually catching the sunset. this was already a routine even before you met sunghoon.

and now, you still kept up that routine whenever you weren’t too busy, your boyfriend always opting to tag along despite his complaints about being too tired. he wouldn’t actually pass up an opportunity to be with you.

you always loved traveling, within the city and during long holidays, out. liking the feeling of driving past the roads and seeing the scenery once the mountains come into view.

when sunghoon found out about this interest of yours, he started searching up for places with the most beautiful mountain sceneries. over the past years, he’s taken you to numerous countrysides and mountaintops inside and outside of the country.

even when you say it was fine if you were to only travel within the country, he loves seeing the way your eyes widen adorably during a gorgeous sunset that would rarely happen in-country. that’s why, the moment he tracks down a specific date that you both were going to be free for at least three days, sunghoon would immediately book a ticket to whatever country he’s been searching up.

on a random afternoon, sunghoon knocks on your bedroom door, walking in your apartment. as you open the door, there he stood with a big suitcase and that sweet smile of his.

“better pack up now, baby. we’re leaving in a few hours”

KIM SUNOO

sunoo knows you more than you know yourself, he’s quick to learn your body language and certain expressions you make.

it’s really hard to lie to him when he knows how to poke at you the right way to make you open up about your worries.

sometimes he just lets you have it, he knows you would at one point tell him about the things you’re going through. he trusts you on that.

but at times, he knows when you need a bit more of a cheer up. sunoo loves spending his money on you, buying you clothes, makeup, accessories. one of the things he realizes is that you love wearing jewelry. finishing up an outfit by adding a necklace or bracelets along your arm. that conveniently also accentuates your features.

he spends alot of time with you picking out sets for outfits you were going to wear for upcoming events. jewelry, he realizes is one of the things that can easily cheer you up, besides himself, of course.

so as the sweet boyfriend he is, sunoo dragged you to the jewelry store despite your sulks. and the moment your eyes laid on the glittering pearls, all of your problems seem to dissipate. just like how your boyfriend had expected.

with a giggle, sunoo starts asking the seller to bring out the full set for you to try on. patting you on the head as you continue to stare at the long rows of necklaces.

“buy whatever you want, okay? after this we can cuddle for as long as you need”

YANG JUNGWON

he would remember everything you’ve ever said to him. you like sweets? he remembers. you like flowery perfume? he remembers. you like that one specific lipstick brand that’s best bought in singapore? he remembers.

it’s not odd to get home to a bunch off boxes filled with gifts and food and random things whenever jungwon’s just went home from a trip anywhere.

anything you’ve said even before you two were dating seems to be engraved in his head like muscle memory. he can be strolling through a street market in japan and a small store would catch his eye, the next moment you would find his hands filled with keychains of a cartoon character you said you liked years ago.

his job requires him to fly countries often and it used to be a problem for you both as it means you can’t really meet him as much. but after years, both you and jungwon still communicate alot. him usually asking to facetime you at random hours of the day or night and sending you pictures of what he was doing.

both of you readjusted quite well to this arrangement and thankfully his work doesn’t demand a long period of time during those trips.

“babe there’s no way i can finish all of this by myself” you laugh seeing all of the things he bought you.

“then we can finish them together” he says, dimples peeking out through the smile “that way i can come by more often”

NISHIMURA RIKI

as days start to get more busy, you and your boyfriend find yourselves going on a short getaway to the outskirts of the city.

he showed up at your apartment one night and pulled you out of it with no explanation. you weren’t going to question him though, letting him take you wherever.

you both ended up on a train station, waiting for the last train to arrive. about an hour later, you landed on a small, but really nice accommodation.

the moment you stepped in the room, riki launched himself on the bed sighing in content.

“i want to live here forever” he mumbles out against one of the pillows.

“we both still have school tomorrow” you sat on the bed beside him, opening up your phone to continue the essay you were working on. only for it to be tackled down a second later, your boyfriend pulling you to lay down beside him.

silence filled the room, only yours and your boyfriend’s soft breathing. riki mumbled something against your hair. you hummed in question.

“let’s get room service” he says. you knew it was going to happen, it always happened. but here you are, sat on the hotel chair with too much food both of you know you can’t finish. he had a habit of buying you whatever he thought you’d like and it wasn’t like he’s wrong. the bowls of food on the table are all your favorites and you don’t even know where to start.

he really doesn’t spend much on things, but he loves going on little getaways with you every once in a while. sleeping on the comfiest beds (besides his or yours) and eating room service. something about it just brings a peaceful kind of silence for him.

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[dcxdpdabbles]

need more mr flavor im thorsty

"You want to buy my soda?" Danny asks again as the man in a suit across from him smiles sickly sweet. They are crammed in the left-corner booth of Anthony's Pasta, with a stack of paperwork on the table.

Danny had just been getting ready to open a shop when this man strolled in wearing the same waxy grin Vlad wore whenever he spoke to his Dad. Danny had been on his guard as the man introduced himself, and while his smile and mannerisms were pleasant, Danny could tell by his eyes that he could not trust the other.

There was no emotion in them.

"That's correct, Mr. Flavor. You see, your brand is starting to stir quite a ruckus. But it's unfortunately, on such a small scale, the trend's popularity will lead to your brand dying out. We at Zesti want to help you reach a bigger audience before that happens. I personally think you have so much potential and I wouldn't want to see it go to waste." The man, Oscar, tells him. He leans back, open body language to try to put Danny at ease.

Danny frowns "My soda is a trend?"

"A passing one unless we don't make the smart choices now. Zesti can help with that," Oscar hinted. He pushes the contract he brought along with him towards Danny. "We'll handle the marketing, distribution, and you will make sixty percent of all final sales. All you need to provide is the tasty beverage."

Danny quickly glances over the contract. At first glance, it seems to be in his favor. But it's dragged out in a package of twenty pages where the wording slowly takes away from his own benefits.

They would handle marketing, but the funds would come from his sixty percent of profits—not all, but a good twenty percent. This left him with forty percent of sales.

Then, Zesti would cover the distribution outside of Gotham. Within Gotham, they would use his money again. That left Danny with only twenty percent of the sales since the other twenty would be used for Gotham distribution.

Since Zesti was going to help him start up, they would ask for a ten percent deposit for the first five years. That way, the sodas could help build a customer base to fund the other two costs.

By page eighteen, Danny would only be making ten percent of the promised income. He thought it was unethical business practices, but the conditions and wording they added to the contract made it legally possible.

Danny just had to sign, and he would agree to the horrid conditions. Now, he didn't really care about the soda. It wasn't like he invented it; he merely brought it over from another world, but it was the fact that they were trying to trick him that upset him.

If he could spot this in a quick read-through, what would he find if he had someone professional look over the contract? Danny bets there would be wording that made him irreverent and legally made Zesti the owner of his work.

They also sent a company representative to discuss legal details in a restaurant. Danny doesn't know the laws of this place (He thinks a lot of Gotham's issues with the Rouges could be solved if they were to include the Death Penalty, but that's just him) He feels a minor shouldn't be making legal decisions without some kind of lawyer.

He knows Oscar is clicking his pen to pressure him to sign as he reads. Jazz would do it whenever she wanted him to sign on for whatever community service she needed.

It was laughable to think that this man was attempting to use the same business psychology that his sister had trained him to notice. Zesti must believe he was an easy target.

"It says here that I would give Zesti complete creative freedom over my soda. How would that stop you from changing a thing about the recipe and then claiming I have no right to the new recipe?" he asks, flipping to page twelve and watching Oscar's oily smile never slip.

"That's just about the bottling and design of the brand. The leaping boy is nice, but we want to clean it up and give it more attention-grabbing details." Oscars assures. He failed to address Danny's concern, which told him everything he needed to hear.

"I'm not interested in selling. Thank you for the offer, though," he tells Oscar, pushing back the contract.

The other man laughs as if Danny has said something amusing. There is a bit of condensation in the undertones of his laughter as if he were speaking to a toddler and finding their confusion entertaining. "I'm not sure you understand, Mr. Flavor. This is an amazing opportunity that others would kill for."

Danny shrugs. "Then offer it to them."

Oscar sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Mr. Flavor, I don't think you understand. This could be what makes you a millionaire, and it's your only chance to make that dream a reality."

"What makes you think being rich is my dream? What if my dream is to become a ghost?"

That finally made the other man lose his smile for only a second before Oscar leaned forward. "Please think carefully. This is the best for you and your brand. Gotham makes people like you disappear from the public eye when a new trend comes by."

"Disappear?" As in intangible? As in ghost? As in Phantom, what part of himself has he been searching for?

Oscar seems to think Danny's wide eyes were because he was frightened instead of excited. Oscar leans back with a smirk, his eyes still hellishly cold and emotionless. It is strange to now always glance into a person's eyes to learn of their true intentions.

No matter how well a ghost hides among humans, they can never disguise their otherworldliness if Danny watches their eyes. He read somewhere that the eyes were the doors to the soul, and after being Phantom, knowing his eyes actually flash with his emotions, he knows it's true.

Oscar may appear human, but whatever humanity there was in him is long gone.

"It would be safer to sign, young man." He says again, this time in a mocking tone.

Danny laughs. "If I was worried about my safety, I wouldn't be jumping off buildings, would I? Have a good day Oscar."

He stands up, leaving the contract on the table, ignoring the stuttering man. Danny has other things to worry about like the restaurant is open for an hour and a line forming at his foldable table.

It wasn't that his soda was that personally important to him, but it was his main source of income. Phantom was still well out of reach despite the amount of life-threatening activities he was getting up to.

Danny even tried to bother the more violent ghosts of the area by strutting into their space while carrying a stupid little tea cup set. He figured they would react to a perceived attack on their pride—instead, the ghosts were so touched that he thought of them.

He tried to get hit by five more cars. One notable incident had him flying into a light pole. He had mistaken the feeling of finally getting his flight back until the ache in his back started.

Danny had even thrown himself into the Gotham River after being told by multiple people that it was filled with chemicals from illegal dumping from some local faculties.

He was starting to think he would never get his ghost side back until a mugger stabbed him in the stomach. Danny had been counting his bills while walking away from a lovely ghost couple in an alley by the old movie theater when the man had jumped out of the shadows, stabbed him, and ran off with his cash.

Danny had fallen to the ground, aware of Martha's scream and Thomas' swear as he choked on his blood. The ghosts were bound to the alley, but they had walked to the edge of it to watch him and felt horrible that they could do nothing for him.

Thomas had looked up at the sky, screaming, while also trying to push against the barrier that keeps anchored ghosts to their death space. "Bruce! Bruce! Please come here! Bruce! He's dying! He's just a kid! Bruce!"

Not sure who Bruce was or how he could help didn't mean anything to Danny when he felt a sort of burst of power from deep inside his chest that suppressed the pain.

The ghost couple had been horrified when Danny's blood had turned green and his hysterical laugh as his wound closed the second he ripped out the blade.

Phantom had healed him, which meant Danny just had to find a way to get Phantom to come back from whatever lock he was behind.

"Are you okay, Danny?" Heather asks him once he walks past the waitress. She glances at the table where Oscar sits, a wide customer smile still firmly on her friendly, open face, but her eyes are guarded. "He said anything strange to you?"

"Nah, he just wanted to buy my soda before Gotham made me "disappear" and die from lack of trend," Danny laughs, swinging open his little cooler. He ignores how she stiffens, and the first customer in line throws a wild, horrified look in his direction.

He lines up his flavors with a bit of hum, ignoring the tension growing in the restaurant. Oscar makes a show of leaving as if Danny will call out to stop him before he slams the door on his way out. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when he vanishes, but Danny doesn't mind.

He continues on with his day. Let Oscar try the fear tactics- what is he going to do? Kill him? Ha.

Danny misses the long conversation Heather has with Anthony, who later asks Danny if he wants him to inform Red Hood of the threat. Danny laughs it away, packs up his things, and stores the table and cooler in Anthony's space closet.

Despite the warnings of the concerned staff- Danny had grown quite close with everyone there but not beyond occasional coworkers- he left for his motel. Danny attempted to get hit by a bus on the way home and nearly did had it not been for a driver's fast reflects.

The bus driver had been distracted by his phone- which is why Danny had targeted him- but he had waved away his horrified apologies. As Danny entered Crime Alley, he figured being loud and rumbustious like his Dad would hopefully get him shot.

Gotham had a limited amount of patience for loud people. He picked a silly gum commercial jingle popular in his home dimension and skipped down the sidewalks, yelling the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Danny didn't even reach the end of the street before a van rolled up next to him. He had enough time to look at it curiously as the van door was flung open, and a group of masked men jumped out. They yanked him inside, throwing a gag over his mouth and slamming him onto the floor.

The wheels scream as the van speeds away, leaving Danny at the mercy of his kidnappers. He tries to wiggle up, but a hard thump against the back of his head- likely from the butt of one of their guns- causes him to crumble down.

"This isn't his usual mark." One commented, looking down at Danny with a cold indifference that he could make out from his eyeholes. "They're usually brown-haired, aren't they?"

"Who cares?" Another answer is, "Just as long as we get paid, who cares what they look like?"

Danny stares at him, wondering if anyone in the van knew this person cared very deeply. Their eyes showed concern, guilt, and the right amount of protective intent, and he felt he wasn't in danger.

He had regrets about what he was doing, to the point of betraying everyone here, or he was an undercover cop. Either option ruined his plan of being shot, though, so Danny wiggled about, ignoring the more hits it got him before he was able to have the gag fall down.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asks the group of four.

"No." One laughs. "But by the time the boss finishes with you, you will wish you were dead like all the others."

"Oh, so it's a waitlist kind of thing?" Danny asks, "Is the list by order of arrival, or did the others make appointments?"

There is a moment of stunned silence. Danny swings his head, looking between everyone, waiting for an answer, but when he receives nothing, he sighs, leaning back into a more comfortable position. They didn't tie him up or anything, so he easily crosses his legs under him and cracks his neck. "If we could kill me first, that would be ideal."

"You want to die?" The guilty one asks.

"Correction, I want to be a ghost."

"Damn, the kid is crazy." The last one- the driver- laughs. "No wonder the boss wanted him."

"By boss, you mean Oscar, don't you." Danny shakes his head. "No, wait, don't answer that. I already know it's him. He has the eyes for it. He's the reason the light-brown hair people are missing, huh? Cyrus mentioned it the last time we talked. Bet you he kidnapped that lady in the antique shop. He stared at us for a long time; Susan had to point him out; Susan is the ghost outside the shop. She taught me how to make the most delicious fudge from the rain of Gotham's downdraught youth- which reminds me of the nickname they gave Baja Blast."

No one speaks after his long-winded rant before Danny leans forward, locking gazes with the guilty one. "Have you ever had your Baja blasted?"

"Um, no?"

"You need to man."

"I can't listen to this shit anymore. Knock him out, but watch the face. The boss likes his merchandise clean."

Danny scoffs, twisting his head to snark at the one sitting in the passenger seat. "Just say, Oscar. We both know it's him."

He feels a hard thump on the back of his head, and the words turn dark. He prays that when he wakes up, he'll have snow-white hair and glowing green eyes.

[ninibeingdelulu]

You really like them a lot, don't you ?

synopsis-> You just love your boyfriend’s arms

a/n-> new design, y'all like it ? CLICK ME

The soft patter of rain against the windows filled the cozy apartment as you snuggled closer into Leon's warm embrace on the couch.

His toned arm was draped over your shoulders, the sleeve of his snug t-shirt pushed up just enough to reveal those thick, protruding veins that never failed to set your heart aflutter.

You traced your fingertips lightly over the raised paths, admiring how they rippled underneath his pale skin with each flex of his powerful muscles.

Leon let out a contented hum, clearly amused by your fascination as he pulled you nearer.

"You're at it again, love." he chuckled deeply, the rumble vibrating against your cheek where it rested on his chest.

"When are you gonna get enough of these old things?" he added.

"Never." You murmured without a shred of shame, continuing to reverently follow the roadmap of veins along the underside of his forearm down to his large, capable hand.

Just mapping every ridgeline and groove with your exploratory caresses and committing them to memory all over again.

Leon was all sinewy strength contained in an appealingly rugged package - the epitome of everything you found irresistibly attractive in a man.

He shivered visibly when you traced the thick cords leading into the sturdy bones of his knuckles, seeming to shudder from the featherlight sensations dancing over such calloused skin.

With a sly grin, you began kneading into the tough musculature with your thumbs, relishing every twitch and flutter you could coax out of your buff boyfriend.

"Damn, you really do have a thing for my arms, huh?"

Leon's voice had dropped into a lower, huskier register tinted with growing arousal the more you lavished them with worship.

"Should've known keeping those guns on display was a dangerous game to play around you..."

You raised your gaze to find his stormy azure eyes already drinking you in with a molten, smoldering intensity that made heat bloom low in your belly.

His plump lips were quirked into that trademark lopsided smirk - the one that never failed to liquify your bones into pliant putty under the weight of his mere stare alone.

"Can you blame me?" you purred, purposefully flexing his wrist upwards and mouthing at the thick, flexed veins standing in stark relief against tawny skin and crisp blonde hair.

"With arms like these to enjoy whenever I want...who needs a tv show as entertaining as you are to look at, baby?"

The low gravelly groan that rumbled free was your only warning before Leon captured your lips in a searing, demanding kiss.

His free hand anchored itself in your hair to angle you deeper into his passionate onslaught while your nimble fingers continued their devoted ministrations along every rope-thick tendon and bulging swell they could find.

All thoughts of the show you'd been watching instantly fled your mind when the insistent press of Leon's arousal strained against your hip.

Leaving your mind deliriously empty of anything except worshipping his body like the muscular wonderland it was...

[shittysawtraps]

Hello, food packaging designer

In front of you are five food products in "re-sealable" packaging you've designed. Your task is to open each one, and then close it securely, without damaging neither the packaging nor the food item inside. For each good that is damaged, fails to securely re-seal, and each minute over the time limit you use, I'm breaking one of your fingers. You have a generous five minutes - one per package. Good luck.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Subaru SVX PPG Pace Car, 1991. The SVX was designed by Giorgetto Giugiaro at Italdesign and was intended to take Subaru into the luxury/performance market.  The PPG Pace car was prepared by Roush with FHI struts and springs for a tighter, lower handling package. The 240hp 3.3 litre flat 6 engine remained unmodified. It was used as a promotional tool for Subaru, as well as a pace car. While most pace cars were retired after one season, the SVX proved to be such a worthy example and a favourite, and was used for several seasons. Ultimately the SVX failed to gain a foothold in the luxury market and was not replaced when it was discontinued in 1996

[bbanghiitomi]

MAGIC

pairing: photographer!kminji x model!designer!fem!reader

trope: enemies to lover! forced proximity! grump and sunshine! opposites attract! matchmaking!

synopsis: kim minji, an aspiring international photographer tries to convince a growing designer to feature in her pictorial for an international magazine. minji offers her a bet to make her a bride but in the process failed to keep her promise and her own principle.

"i hate - hate that idiot!" y/n threw the photo album of her client's recent photoshoot for their wedding as soon as she sees an awkward picture taken of her by non other than kim minji herself. y/n gritted her teeth in anger as her friend looked at her and laughed nervously. y/n stood up and was then followed by her friend around her house. "o-oh y/n! come on, calm down!" hanni told her friend as she stormed outside.

y/n looked at her friend and stomped. "calm down!? that prick has been doing this to me for almost so long!" y/n heard hanni sigh. "i mean, there must be something else we can do other than suing her." hanni spoke, following y/n as the girl turned to hanni with a frown. "tell me exactly what," y/n looked at hanni before she groaned and shook her head as she gripped her hair. "i hate her! i'll tell my mom about her stupid ass!"

hanni ran up to her and pulled her hands, looking at her friend with a smile. "you know what your mom would say right?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at her friend. y/n sighed as she rolled her eyes. "that minji is funny and nice?" hanni nodded. "exactly! you know they're besties and all..." hanni laughed as she sat on the couch, she looked at her friend as y/n stomped her feet. "and besides, everyone makes sure to get you two as a package, event planner and the cameraman." hanni's remarked made y/n more even frustrated that she's basically stuck with that jerk until the day she dies; well unless someone takes her away from minji.

which at this point, seems impossible.

minji huffed as she picked up the pictures she took after the wedding of y/n's client, frustration wells inside her as she tried to convince her cousin to let her pictures be shown to the magazine yunjin is working at. "how come you haven't accepted none of the pictures i gave you? isn't your magazine about life? there? pictures from wedding ceremonies." minji sighed as she spoke, yunjin walked towards minji inside the house danielle and minji shared together.

"these pictures are great minji, that's what makes you better than most photographers nowadays." yunjin picked up one photo from the pile. "like this, it's great." she placed it back down again.

"but the thing is, we've featured a wedding ceremony from last year. if we do again people might thing it's repetitive." yunjin explained, minji shook her head as she sighed.

danielle made her way downstairs with a bunch of newly printed pictures too, she took one step and slipped. "dani!" minji shouted as she looked up at the girl who fell on her butt on the staircase. "are you okay?" yunjin asked, danielle laughed sheepishly. "yeah, it kind of hurts." she muttered.

yunjin helped pick up the fallen pictures on the floor, she picked up one particular frame of y/n, an awkward picture of her in the wedding of her own client. "who is this? she looks familiar." yunjin asked.

minji looked at her cousin and spoke. "kang y/n, she's the designer of the wedding i worked at." she answered, yunjin smiled brightly as she showed minji the picture. "you know, i can get you in the magazine if you get me in contact with her. this girl is rising from her funky designs and interesting works." yunjin stated, minji sighed as she nodded.

minji shook her head as she chuckled. "funky? you mean weird?" she laughed, yunjin looked at minji as she shrugged. "that's not what i meant, i saw some of her works, didn't she work for her sister's debut party?" yunjin spoke, minji stood and looked at her cousin. "...yeah."

yujin smiled and blushed, scratching the back of her head. "you know... maybe you can get a feature in your magazine, just as long as it's about her." she said, minji hesitated for a bit before she spoke.

"if i do, i'll get a photoshoot with her and feature it on your magazine, correct?" minji raised her eyebrows and yunjin smiled. "of course." she said.

y/n brought her book down, sighing after hours of working on a gown design for another wedding. how many designs has she made for other people's wedding? y/n couldn't even count it, it's ironic how most of her works involved couples, but she's never been in a relationship in her whole life.

at the age of 20, y/n seems to struggle being able to find the one for her. y/n believes in love, the magic of it, she saw it on her parents, how her mother loved her father; she promised herself she'll experience that kind of love but it seems quite hard to achieve now.

while pondering about love and the complexity of it, y/n sees minji's face from outside her shop, she furrowed her brows at the sight of her face. minji entered inside the shop with a huge smile and y/n did not forget to scowl at minji. "what are you doing here?" she asked, standing up and crossing her arms. minji laughed and offered a tray of freshly made mac n' cheese. "here, i just wanted to visit." minji smiled, y/n scowled at her as she watched minji place the tray on her table.

"spit it out, you need something right?" she said, minji laughed sheepishly as she scratched the back of her head. "ah, actually... i need your help." she awkwardly flashed y/n a strained smile.

"no." y/n answered. danielle entered the office and took the mac n' cheese to the kitchen of the shop while the two were busy bickering.

"i haven't even told you the details yet," minji sighed as she spoke, slumping her shoulders. "no need, i won't say yes anyway." y/n said, the air inside the shop turned intense as minji rolled her eyes and followed y/n who walked further the shop and inside her office. "y/n i'm serious, for me this is a once in a lifetime offer." minji said, y/n looked at minji and raised an eyebrow at her. "well for me it isn't." she simply said as she entered inside the office.

minji watched as y/n walked behind her desk before she spoke. "i'll find you a date, that's what you need right? a date, a boyfriend or girlfriend. if i find the perfect match, you'll let me take you to the pictorial." minji said, y/n looked at her in disbelief at such a crazy proposal. y/n gritted her teeth as she squinted her eyes at minji.

"don't piss me off minji. i don't need your help." she said, minji whined as she pouted. "come on! consider this as help to me and for you!" minji begged as she followed y/n around, y/n looked behind as she walked around her desk, noticing minji tailing her behind. y/n groaned. "oh stop it! why would i even think of helping you?" she yelled, rolling her eyes.

hanni entered the office as she watched the two walking around the office. "uh, guys?" she asked, y/n stomped as she faced minji with a glare. "you, stop this nonsense already." y/n walked outside her office with minji following her behind. "i won't stop till you say yes." minji persisted as they exited the store, with minji gaining perseverance to follow y/n.

the crowd outside was like the usual, civilians did what they did while minji and y/n continued their chase.

as they walked around the street, people looked at them, some were curious and others were bothered by the bickering duo. "no!" y/n yelled. "help! help!" minji shouted, y/n greeted her teeth as she looked at minji. "shut up!" she yelled as people passed the street with bustling vehicles.

minji sighed and slumped her shoulders. "consider this as your help to me, after this i'll leave you alone." as she spoke, there was silence only between them that followed. y/n stopped with her tracks as she sighed, rolling her eyes. she turned to minji with a frown. "how am i supposed to care and believe that you'll stop making my life a living hell?" she spoke, minji sighed as she scratched her nape.

"because i need this opportunity to reach the international field... and i know i've been a huge asshole to you but listen, i am not lying when i tell you this will be the last time..." minji looked at minji as the crowd slowly disappears, it's just the two of them now.

"fine. after i find a lover, you get that pictorial and then leave." y/n declared, minji looked away as she sighed in defeat, nodding meekly. "yeah, sure." she muttered.

minji held her phone against her ears as she tried to reach y/n with a phone call, she waited as the other line continued to ring. "where the hell is she?" she muttered, today is supposed to be the day that minji introduces the first candidate as y/n's lover; future lover to be exact.

y/n answered, she grumbled as she held the phone between her shoulder and chin. "yeah? what's up minji?" she asked, minji scoffed as she entered inside a stationery shop. "what do you mean what's up? your first date is scheduled later and we're supposed to meet each other today, right?" she asked, clarifying the agreement they made. y/n sighed as she wrote down the lists of what her client wanted on their daughter's birthday.

"oh i forgot about that, can we postpone in today? later i'll be coming to the date, i promise." she muttered, smiling at her client.

minji looked at her phone and whispered "what?" under her breath, before bringing her phone close to her ear again. "listen, if you want to find a lover, manage your time; it's important. learn how to manage your time to accommodate your date, it's unfair." she scolded y/n only to receive a scoff. "i don't want to hear your nonsense, besides, you're not my date, and i know what to do." y/n answered, minji took a deep breath as she shook her head and sighed.

as soon as the clock strikes 8pm, minji tapped her shoes looking around outside the restaurant, waiting for you. danielle looked at your date inside the venue. "ah, can you wait for a little? you know y/n is a very busy woman." she laughed sheepishly, the date nodded and smiled at danielle. "it's alright." he said as danielle excused herself and walked over to minji.

the street lamps looked alive outside, the light on top of minji continued to blink as she grumbled. "don't you know where she is?" danielle asked, minji sighed and shook her head. "i wish i knew." she muttered.

she leaned back on the wall, groaning in annoyance. "why does she have to take so long?" minji muttered, danielle sighed. "i told you this would be a bad idea." she told minji who only shook her head.

as she was about to reply, minji saw y/n walking inside the restaurant, and before she could walk up to her, danielle pulled minji's wrist. "minji, let her be. she got this." she said, minji shifted her eyes at danielle and nodded reluctantly.

the next day, minji fixed her shirt as she stared at herself on the mirror, danielle walked down the stairs of their shared apartment. "you going out again?" she asked, minji looked at danielle though the reflection of the mirror and nodded before turning around to her. "yes, i need to ask how the date went."

danielle shrugged and walked over to minji. "are you sure? i think we should really just give this up." she said, minji looked at her in disbelief. "what? this is like a one shot to success... if i don't get this then i don't have another opportunity again." she sighed and shook her head.

danielle nodded. "but i think, forcing y/n to go on multiple dates is just hard. we do it in such a short interval too... of course she won't find the one she truly likes." minji grumbled and rolled her eyes. "it's cause she has such a high standard." minji muttered walking over to their living room where danielle followed her.

"minji, you can't blame her. you've seen her mother right? she grew up in such a loving home, of course she wants to be with someone she'll love." minji slumped down the couch as she stared at the tv. "i just don't get it." minji muttered.

danielle stared at her friend and sighed. "i know, i know. i understand why, also we're running out of time too..." danielle is growing worried about how much time minji is giving for the dates, it's almost like she couldn't prioritize their business. "it's cause no one wants to date her." minji grumbled under her breath.

"well, would you?" danielle asked. minji looked at danielle as she thought of an answer before pouting and shaking her head. "of course not, i don't have time for that." she answered causing danielle to laugh. "it's cause she's so uptight, right? always busy, and a little crazy... but i think it's cause you're afraid of committing." danielle chuckled. "all of the other people who refused to date her too, because they know y/n is serious." danielle added as minji denied with a shake of her head.

the doors of their apartment opened to yunjin entering inside, she excused herself as she closed the door. minji stood up and walked over to her. "yunjin! you're back." she walked over to her cousin and her cousin smiled back at her. "so how is it?' yunjin asked, minji froze on the spot as she chuckled. "ow yeah, i still haven't gotten her to say yes." she buried her hands on her pockets as she answered.

yunjin shook her head and sighed. "what will we do? the deadline's this week." she said, minji grumbled as danielle watched behind her. "i don't know too." minji sighed and walked around scratching the back of her head. "what's so hard about asking her though?" yunjin asked, following minji with her eyes.

"ah, i made a promise with her but it's taking too long..." minji turned her back to both yunjin and danielle as they shared a look and danielle smiled meekly at yunjin. "what's the problem? can't we ask her together?" yunjin proposed, minji turned to her and looked at her cousin. "you will?" she asked.

minji was hesitant, she knew her cousin had a liking for y/n and it was obvious, she never told yunjin about her deal with y/n and now she regret not saying so. there was no reason for her to be afraid about what might develop, but why was she unsure?

danielle spoke even before minji did. "of course why not? y/n might be smitten over you and say yes!" yunjin smiled and chuckled, a clear blush present on her face.

"you think so?" she asked, minji swallowed and nodded. "probably..." she muttered.

"what do you want to talk about now you monkey!?" y/n stomped inside the living room of her house as minji followed, she's tired of her bullshit, and so is minji. after a argument regarding y/n's lack of interest with her dates and minji's lack of consideration, it led them inside here.

"listen here! i'm tired of your shit! can't you just listen to me for once?" minji shouted as y/n turned to her with a glare. "enough with this deal! i can't stand having to force myself go on dates with men and women you choose out of a bunch of idiots!" y/n yelled, minji took a deep breath as she pushed y/n on the couch. "what the hell!?" she yelled.

minji pointed at her as y/n stood up. "shut up!" she pushed y/n on the couch. "shut up! i said shut up!" she yelled with full force as y/n looked up at her and closed her mouth. "you're such a spoiled brat!" minji yelled, y/n looked up at her as she leaned on the couch. "what did you just say?" she asked in disbelief. minji swung her arm as she grumbled. "i said you're a spoiled brat! almost 30 dates later and still nothing! and you wonder why no one wants to be with you!?" minji yelled, y/n sniffled as she looked up at minji.

"aren't you doing this for your career's sake? i only said yes so you'd leave me alone you jerk!" minji turned around and cursed her her breath. "today's the deadline! i'm not getting anything!" she yelled, y/n looked at her and scoffed. "as if that's my fault." she rolled her eyes.

"how are we supposed to do something for ourselves? how am i supposed to help you? you hate me and don't listen! you're so crazy and you want to do things your way! it takes two to tango you know!?" minji rubbed her forehead. y/n sobbed as she wiped her tears. "i know, i'm unlovable." minji scoffed.

"i never said that, you just don't know how to behave." minji muttered, she walked over to the doorway and leaned on the border. "you need to listen, we can work things out..." she added, y/n stood up and walked over beside minji. "i'm behaved, i'll listen to you now." she muttered, minji looked at her and stared at her face.

it's ridiculous, she knew how much y/n wanted to feel loved, how ready she is. whenever she looked at y/n, it feels weird.

minji turned around to look at y/n, her round eyes baring a kind of vulnerability in them at that moment, it felt like she was betting on something she wouldn't likely win, and throwing away something that meant a lot.

"it's not like you're unlovable, it's just that you're stubborn." minji pushed herself off the door frame, looking at y/n. "plus, i just don't get it." she muttered, y/n stared at minji and tilted her head. "what do you mean you don't get it?" she asked the tall girl. minji scoffed, scratching the back of her head.

"you know, why you feel so pressured to fall in love. we're both wrong, we can't force things and except something to grow in a short amount of time." minji sighed as she crossed her arms, shifting her eyes to the floor. "you have it all, you're smart, pretty, artistic, kind, you even have the ideal family." minji said, chuckling.

y/n looked at minji as her lips tugged in a small smile. "but every guy you've approached didn't like me, right?" minji scoffed. "they're just stupid." minji said as she looked at y/n. "none of them wants to take things seriously like you do..."

y/n shrugged as she stood beside minji, the raven-haired one looked at y/n, there was a long pause between them until y/n spoke.

"you? you've never thought of being in a serious relationship?"

minji chuckled. "hell no," she scoffed playfully. "not my thing." y/n sent her a glare. "so you're not different huh?"

minji smiled at y/n, her eyebrows relaxing. "i don't want to settle down, those guys and me are different - i have valid reasons." she spoke. "unlike them, i have goals. i don't fool around with strangers. i don't give them time, i want to be successful and that's the only thing i want." minji shook her head as she chuckled.

y/n looked at her, a small, fond smile plastered upon her face. "i wonder why, it didn't really make sense to me." she muttered, minji looked at her as she shrugged. "i just feel like it's gonna take away my freedom," she paused, looking away. "every couple i know, who married each other - guess what? divorced. if not divorced, depressed, forcing themselves to stay together, and for what? their kids? marrying someone is like, saying goodbye to the great things and saying hello to your biggest fears ever." she laughed under her breath.

y/n watched as minji blinked. "i always dreamt of marrying someone and having a relationship like my parents had." y/n muttered. "i mean, i haven't lost hope yet." she added. minji looked at y/n, immediately shifting her gaze away when she stared for too long.

"my parents? separated. mom's away with a new boyfriend, dad is with his new family." minji spoke. y/n looked at her face, there's a long pause again as they indulged themselves to the tranquil of the gentle evening.

minji looked at y/n, they stared at each other as minji smiled. "maybe, destiny will send you someone." minji said.

"yunjin, my friend. she's a creative of a magazine, you know the asian lifestyle magazine. it's pretty popular." minji said, patting yunjin's shoulder. y/n smiled, taking a deep breath as she stretched her hand out. "yunjin, this is y/n. she's a designer, she owns that shop that plans events and designs them." yunjin and minji had agreed to keep the deal they promised, they promised not to tell y/n about it. yunjin gave y/n a smile, reaching for her hand. "nice to meet you." yunjin said, y/n kept her smile. "same, here."

y/n's energetic aunts call for yunjin, inviting her for a quick lunch. although they have always thought that minji will eventually be with their niece, they hadn't expected yunjin to come along.

minji looked at y/n as the latter watched yunjin with her aunts, she shifted her eyes to where they were. "they're cool with her." minji muttered, y/n chuckled, looking over to minji. "you're still their favorite though." minji looked at y/n and laughed. "of course, even your mom does."

y/n and minji stared at each other before minji immediately broke the eye contact as soon as yunjin called for y/n. "what?" y/n asked, she laughed and ran over to her aunts and yunjin.

y/n's mom stood behind minji, beside danielle who looked at y/n's mom. "what do i do if i want something and like i really want it bad?" danielle asked. the older woman spoke. "then i do something to have it,"

danielle sighed. "what if i don't know if i want it? and i haven't realize that i want it? then someone else also wants it?" she asked, minji turned to look at them. "then that means you're stupid." y/n's mom answered, before making an eye contact with minji who looked away. "right, that makes me stupid." she said.

"you're running out of time." the older and wiser woman spoke, as if delivering the message to minji. "what?" the raven-haired girl asked. "i meant, you're supposed to deliver photos to your house, right?" minji stood frozen, she looked behind as danielle ran away.

"hey! you! come back!" minji shouted before running to catch danielle.

that was minji's mistake, the magazine offer was right in her hands, but it felt unfulfilling. she stood by the gate of y/n's house waiting for her. the past few weeks felt like torture, y/n was straying farther every second she spends with yunjin, it was her mistake.

the latest news about them is that, they're really getting very close, y/n mentioned once that if she and yunjin actually agreed on settling things together, they might fly to the states. only a few weeks left too... minji chucked out a small piece of rock with her shoes, standing outside at night waiting for y/n to arrive, from yunjin's car.

as minji sees yunjin's car from afar, she stayed on the same corner, waiting for y/n.

minji watched as y/n stepped out of the car, minji's lips bends over to a small frown as she noticed y/n stepping out, alone. yunjin usually opened the door for her or at least would walk her towards her place, y/n rushed to the gate of her house almost ignoring minji's existence.

"y/n, what's wrong?" she asked, y/n looked up at minji. there were stains of tears on her face, her eyes swollen as she looked at minji and felt like breaking down in tears again. "what's wrong?" y/n asked in disbelief, she laughed sarcastically as she furrowed her brows. "are you seriously asking me that?"

minji blinked, putting her hands on her hips as she shook her head. "i don't... no, i don't understand what you mean." she said, minji looked around as she shrugged. "wait, can we just be clear for a moment? did something bad happen? why are you crying?"

y/n looked at minji and clenched her fist, she threw a hit on minji's shoulder, causing the raven-haired girl to hiss. "you!" y/n pointed at minji. "you promised that if you ever find me a date, i'll appear in your pictorial and you'll leave me alone..." y/n paused, aggressively pointing at her. "and i agreed to that, right?"

minji nodded. "you did."

y/n glared at her. "tell me, why you never told me that yunjin and you had a deal." minji sighed as she looked away. y/n pushed minji with both hands. "you two fooled me?! you didn't even tell me that she's your cousin and you're trying to get a feature in her magazine by using me?"

y/n stormed inside her house, slamming the door open as hanni and haerin heard the commotion downstairs and walked to see what was happening in the living room from the stairs.

"y/n, yunjin likes you a lot! we just had an agreement, i didn't think it would be that serious!" minji entered, standing behind y/n. y/n turned around to look at minji, eyes tearing up. "of course you wouldn't think so, you made me believe that it was genuine. i thought the deal was over? i thought you were over the deadline. i thought you actually wanted me to be with someone who you genuinely see fit with me."

minji's shoulders slumped, she did mention the deadline.

y/n sobbed. "you introduced me to yunjin because it was the most convenient choice..." minji took a few steps back as the whole room grew silent.

"but i thought you'd settle with her?" minji looked away, swinging her arms. "if you love her then why immediately throw everything away?" she asked. y/n turned her back to minji, sighing.

minji placed her hands on her sides. "you know what? i'm sorry for hiding the truth. but i swear, i was telling the truth when i said it was indeed the deadline that yunjin gave me, we talked again and she offered that if i set you two up she'll give me another chance. i'm sorry okay? it's all my fault."

y/n shook her head, wiping her tears. "don't ask me anything about yunjin, this isn't about her."

minji huffed, her thick eyebrows furrowed as she puffed her cheeks. "look, it's a deal between us. i'm sure it's not over yet, right? i'll get rid of that magazine..." minji's voice softened as she finished her words.

"are you two still together?" she asked.

y/n shook her head looking at minji. "it's over. i wouldn't want to stay, it wasn't for me."

"that fast?" minji asked, a sense of dread, feeling guilty and sad over her cousin washed over her and maybe a sense of hope, it wasn't over yet at least for her.

y/n glared at minji. "i don't want to talk about it." minji shrugged. "then what do you want to talk about?" she asked, y/n took a deep breath.

"us, about us." she said. minji blinked her eyes, looking down.

"just when i was slowly warming up to you? you suddenly let me down like that?" y/n asked, walking over to minji. "you made me feel like for a moment, i mattered and i was loved. i thought you understand me?" minji listened, rubbing her cheek.

"i do, i was just selfish. i thought it was a good idea, it was a win for me, you, yunjin. i thought it was fair." minji scratched the back of her head as she spoke sheepishly.

y/n shook her head. "it's not about what i gain, it's not about whoever that person is. to me, i care about the sentiments and the promises. minji, i thought it meant something. that night?"

hanni looked at haerin with wide eyes as they listened from the stairs.

"i know... i was genuine, that night yes... however, i was just tempted at the idea of the opportunity in front of me." minji muttered.

"i know that, didn't you tell me that? i thought you sharing those feelings of yours meant that we were getting closer, that it's something deep." y/n expressed her feelings with words that conveyed how frustrated she was, she didn't understand the gravity of her feelings for minji, how much minji meant to her.

"was i just another bridge to that success? didn't you want to at least share that with me too?" y/n asked.

minji shook her head, pacing around the living room. "i wanted you to be happy, and when i said i'd find you a lover i meant that. did yunjin not love you?" minji turned to y/n. "i'm not lying when i said i genuinely wanted it to be fair for us..."

y/n and minji stared at each other, thousands of unsaid feelings rumbling inside their heart.

"fair? i never wanted to lead yunjin like that... it felt nice for a while, but when you kept talking about how much it would be a waste to not give her a chance... have you ever considered if i wanted to give her a chance?" as y/n spoke, minji looked down.

it was out of spite, she guessed... it was hard to decide, she had her own priorities and she made promises, maybe if she had done it earlier before she grew to have feelings for y/n, it would've been easier to look back. minji forced yunjin towards y/n out of fear she might fall until it's too late, she wanted to give her a genuine lover, it seemed like an act out of selfishness...

minji understood how hurt y/n might have been when she saw it like that.

"i didn't know... did you like her?" minji asked, her tone a bit awkward. y/n looked at her. "i did." y/n muttered.

"but i never said i loved her," y/n paused sighing. "i know, i agreed to settle in states with her, i wanted to make my aunts proud because they were so happy with yunjin... but it's just not what i want." y/n looked away.

minji stared at y/n, her round eyes watching the sadness and longing in her eyes. "as the days passed by, i grew even more hesitant, i felt bad... yunjin is a great person, maybe tonight destiny gave me a sign to look back." minji nodded.

"i should've asked you first..." minji placed her hand on her chest as she tried to stop the rapid beating of her heart only to receive a glare from y/n. minji chuckled sheepishly as she looked at y/n. "i was waiting for you outside, i couldn't hold it back anymore..." minji muttered.

y/n looked at her and shrugged. "what did you want to talk about?" minji sighed. "i was quite afraid that you'll really leave and stay at the states with yunjin... i already got her offer, but it didn't feel right so i wanted to see you." minji looked away, taking deep breaths. "i know you think i was not genuine, about the things we shared... but i promise you that i was just afraid, that's why i couldn't bare telling you that i could settle down with someone... with you." minji continued. "i know it seemed like i forced you to be with her, it's only because i didn't want to disappoint you."

y/n looked at minji, pushing back strands of her hair behind her ear. "i don't know... i just don't understand why i couldn't love her back." she muttered.

none of them realized the growing bond between them, beyond their playful banters, minji grew onto y/n. what they shared mattered to y/n, there's something so genuine about how long it took them to warm up to each other.

minji smiled, laughing. "about that..." minji trailed, scratching her chin. "i think i'm starting to love you." she muttered.

y/n looked at her, surprised. haerin immediately shushed hanni up as the girl gasped.

"like, i was mad that you couldn't find the right person. during that time where we were looking for your dates, we grew closer... i didn't realized i was dreaming of you every night, like i said, i was just afraid i'd sabotage myself out of it." minji said. "maybe until, i found myself laughing and smiling whenever you cross my mind... i didn't know what it meant till i just snapped out of it."

y/n smiled, looking away. "mhm," she giggled. "you think i forgot about your commitment issues?"

minji smiled as she laughed, taking a closer step towards y/n. "of course, about that... will you get mad if i told you that... i will marry you?" hanni and haerin watched from the stairs as y/n gave minji a look of skepticism.

"what are you on about?" she asked. minji looked down, she scratched the back of her head. "i don't want you to slip away from me again. you know what i mean?" minji smiled fondly at her, digging her hand on her pocket to pull out a necklace.

"i didn't bring a ring, i never thought i'd have the chance to say this." she muttered.

"why would you marry me?" y/n asked, looking at minji who was holding the necklace in hand. "because why not? i know this sounds so out of pocket, we've known each other for a long time... i've known you since forever. why would i not marry you when i spent almost half of my life annoying you?" minji answered, she gripped the necklace while she spoke.

y/n laughed sarcastically. "yeah? you always pissed me off and you want to marry me?" she asked.

"i stayed because i'm happy when i'm with you." minji muttered, she looked down in resignation. "i'm sorry..."

"if you love me then you shouldn't be sorry." y/n grumbled, minji looked at her and smiled. "i do love you." she muttered. "and that's why i'm gonna marry you if only you would say yes..."

y/n stared at minji, trying not to burst into tears as she looked at minji and glared at her, she pouted her lips looking at the necklace in minji's hand.

"after everything?" she scoffed, keeping the pout on her lips as minji raised her eyebrows at her, already memorized her like a book.

it's always like these kinds of moments between them that made her really wish she knew earlier, it had always been a thing in their family that now she's twenty, she can't wait another five years until the "curse" in their family hits her. y/n knew how she genuinely believed it when her aunts, who have been single and never married, told her about the family curse, she'd been desperate to find the one ever since.

minji's so called "freedom" of being single had always been something she treasured, seeing relationships as settle backs from achieving her goals; ironic how both of their situations led them to realize things from each other.

y/n looked at minji once again, they stared at each other before y/n rushed to embrace her and wrap her arms around minji who laughed and brought her lips close to y/n's ear to whisper. "i love you." before wrapping her own arms around y/n's waist.

hanni cheered as she screamed, causing haerin to roll her eyes playfully and laughed as they witnessed the scene beneath them. it was just like magic, something predictable for the audience but at the same time it was unexpected for the pair.

[lividstar]

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤSLY FOX, DUMB BUNNY

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤChapter One

៚ wc: 37k

៚ fluff, heavy angst, wooyoung x secret agent!reader, slowburn, ???s to lovers, mutual pining, designated codenames for plot purposes

៚ warnings: heavy violence, usage of weapons, mentions of murder, dark themes in general

៚ playlist !

៚ Leading a life filled with secrets was never bound to be easy. From the moment you stepped into the world of espionage, you knew by then that there would be no chance to rewind the minutes once you decided to stand firm with your decision—you knew it came at a huge cost of needing to detach yourself from those you held connections with in order to ensure they wouldn’t accidentally be dragged into the dangers your entire existence in itself consisted of, but you had been taught better than to back down. And it wasn’t exactly like it was a hard task to complete, anyway, as you never had any problems with still being all by yourself even in an age where billions of people occupied the world in the first place. Unfortunately, life comes in a package deal with a surge of twists, and in your case, Jung Wooyoung, the presence that accompanies you almost everyday during your job as a librarian within the “normal” half of your life, was the twist in question. Who would’ve failed to guess you weren’t the only person in the universe who had major secrets to keep? Both you and Wooyoung himself, apparently.

a/n: i’m still on a break but i figured i’d publish this since it’s been sitting on my drafts for weeks lol (your codename is a shortened version of “sylvilagus genus,” a.k.a the scientific term for a cottontail rabbit) this will have a part 2!

Mastering the art of multitasking can be achieved in a vast sea of ways that all differ from one another. One could say watching a movie while finishing homework could count as a valid form of juggling two tasks with one hand. Multitasking could also come in the form of getting ready for a late night out while arguing with your partner through the phone. Some would even argue that opening different computer tabs at once should also be up in the list. Simply put, there’s no fixed context to it—it’s subjective, and you have all the freedom to interpret it in a way that helps you sleep.

In your case, however, mastering the art of multitasking was a journey certainly not as easy as the combinations of activities mentioned above.

Your journey into the world of espionage began in the most unlikely of places: a dusty, old bookshop in a forgotten corner of the city. It was there, amidst the stacks of ancient tomes and forgotten manuscripts, that you first met the man who would change your life forever. He was a retired agent, masquerading as the shop’s owner, and he saw something in you that no one else had—a keen mind, a sharp eye for detail, and an insatiable curiosity. He became your mentor, teaching you the secrets of his trade. Under his guidance, you learned the art of surveillance, the intricacies of disguise, and the delicate skill of deciphering codes. It was a rigorous training regimen, filled with sleepless nights and countless challenges, but you thrived on it. Your determination and resilience set you apart, and before long, you were recruited into the organization.

Balancing your dual life was no easy feat. By day, you immersed yourself in the quiet, orderly world of the library, where your meticulous nature and problem-solving skills earned you the respect of your colleagues and patrons. You thrived in the tranquility of the stacks, finding solace in the knowledge contained within the pages of the books you so carefully curated.

By night, however, you navigated a world of shadows and deception. The training you had undergone was relentless. Physical conditioning, combat training, advanced technology—every aspect of your life was geared towards making you the perfect operative. You were taught to be adaptable, to think on your feet, and to always be three steps ahead of your adversaries.

Your rise through the ranks was swift. Your keen intellect and unerring instincts made you an invaluable asset to the organization. You had a natural talent for uncovering hidden truths and solving puzzles that left others baffled. Your missions took you to the far corners of the globe, from the loud streets of Tokyo to the ancient ruins of Rome, each assignment more challenging than the last.

But with every success came a deeper entanglement in the web of espionage. The impact on your personal life was profound. Relationships became strained as you struggled to maintain your cover. The constant danger and secrecy took a toll on you, leaving you isolated and wary of those around you. Yet, despite the sacrifices, you remained committed to your cause, driven by a sense of duty and a desire to protect the world’s treasures from falling into the wrong hands.

The library became both your sanctuary and your camouflage. You mastered the art of compartmentalizing your life, slipping seamlessly between your two identities. Your colleagues marveled at your efficiency and dedication, unaware of the adrenaline-fueled nights you spent in pursuit of justice.

Each day, you donned the mask of a librarian, but beneath that calm exterior lay a formidable operative, always ready for the next mission. The juxtaposition of your two lives was stark, yet you found a strange harmony in the duality. The quiet moments in the library allowed you to recharge and refocus, while the thrill of espionage kept your skills sharp and your mind agile.

As you sat at your desk, a cup of tea steaming beside you and a stack of books waiting to be shelved, you couldn’t help but reflect on the path that had brought you here. From the dusty bookshop to the heart of a covert spy organization, your journey has been anything but ordinary. Just then, while you’re busy typing away on your computer, the door to the library swings open, the gentle chime signaling the arrival of a customer. Looking up from your screen, a warm smile immediately finds its way to your face when you recognize the visitor.

Jung Wooyoung.

From the start, Wooyoung had always loved frequenting the library. The elderly librarian whose place you took before she retired had often spoken of him. She was a sweet old woman, and according to her, Wooyoung had been visiting the library ever since he was a little boy. Over the years, she had grown fond of him, so much so that even as she packed her things to leave, she told you to take care of him and always ensure he left the library with a smile on his face. It was endearing, in a way. She had also mentioned that Wooyoung was a very sweet boy, filled with optimism and never seen without a smile. You’d been skeptical of this before you started working as the librarian, but upon meeting him, you quickly realized she was right.

Wooyoung was genuinely sweet. The first time he entered the library under your watch, he was visibly shocked to see you at the registrar instead of the familiar old librarian who had watched him grow up. When he approached the counter to return the books he had borrowed the previous week, you could see the unspoken question in his eyes, the hesitation to ask about her, afraid of offending you somehow. Sensing his unease, you took the initiative to explain. “She had to go out of town to stay with her daughter because this library doesn’t provide enough money for her to pay rent,” you had said in a neutral yet soft tone, remembering how his eyes had clouded with sadness.

Feeling a strange need to cheer him up, you had added, “Before she left, she told me many stories about you. She said you were a really sweet boy, and that once I start working here, I should always make sure you leave the library with a smile on your face. She seemed to have been very fond of you.” You could still picture the way his eyes sparkled with surprise and delight as he gasped, “Really?” You had simply nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile. Over time, you grew fond of his presence as well. Your days seemed a little incomplete when he didn’t visit the library. There was something comforting about his regular appearances, a sense of normalcy in your otherwise dual life.

“Hey, Wooyoung. It’s been a while,” you greeted him with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee.

Wooyoung walked towards the registrar, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty busy these days.”

Curiosity piqued, you wondered what had kept him so occupied, but you chose not to pry, figuring it was probably a matter that demands privacy. “It’s nice to have you back.”

“Really? I was beginning to think you were growing tired of seeing my face every day,” he joked lightly, eliciting a muffled, short laugh from you.

“I beg to differ. If anything, a shift at work doesn’t quite make it to the shelf of good days unless you pay the library a visit,” you said, diverting your attention from the computer to the books he had placed on the counter. “The History of Art?”

“Thought I’d check out something new,” he shrugged, causing the loose collar of his knitted sweater to slip off his shoulder a little.

“Always exploring, aren’t you?” you remarked, scanning the books into the system. “Did anything in particular catch your interest in art history?”

He grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You could say I’m looking for inspiration.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Inspiration for what?” Wooyoung leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s a secret.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, keep your secrets. Just make sure to return the books on time.”

“I always do,” he replied, flashing you a playful wink.

As Wooyoung made his way to his usual spot by the window, you couldn’t help but watch him for a moment longer. There was something about him that drew you in, a charisma that was hard to resist. And yet, there was also an air of mystery around him, something that made you curious and kept you guessing.

Another endearing trait of Wooyoung was that despite his sweet demeanor, he had a teasing side that surfaced on rare occasions—like right now. It was one of those fascinating nuances that kept you intrigued by him. There were many layers to Wooyoung’s personality, and each one seemed more captivating than the last. Sometimes, you found yourself wondering if there were even more depths to him that you had yet to discover. You weren’t exactly close friends with him, after all. Sure, the two of you enjoyed spending a few minutes engaging in conversations, but they were mostly centered around the books he borrowed and returned. Your interactions were limited to the confines of the library. Beyond its walls, you knew little about him. You didn’t have his number, didn’t know his favorite coffee shop, or even what he did on weekends. Were you acquaintances? One could say that. Were you friends? That was a more complicated question.

The ambiguity of your relationship often left you pondering. On one hand, it felt like there was a budding friendship forming, built on shared moments of literary discussion and mutual respect. On the other hand, there was a clear boundary that neither of you had crossed, a line that kept your lives distinctly separate. Perhaps it was better this way. Your life was already a chaotic blend of librarian by day and spy by night. Adding Wooyoung into the mix didn’t seem wise. Because of that, you often had to remind yourself that you weren’t just a mere librarian. Your nights were filled with missions and dangers that he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Bringing Wooyoung into your world would only complicate things further, potentially putting his life on the line. It was a risk you weren’t willing to take.

Sometimes, as you watched him immerse himself in a new book or share a light-hearted joke, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to know him outside of the library. To share a coffee, a laugh, maybe even a secret or two. But then reality would set in, reminding you of the double life you led and the responsibilities that came with it. Perhaps you two were meant to stay like this, connected within the safe, quiet haven of the library but living entirely separate lives outside its walls. It was a delicate balance, one that allowed you to enjoy his company without the complications that deeper involvement would surely bring.

In the quiet moments, as you reshelved books or sipped your coffee while watching him from a distance, you found a strange comfort in the simplicity of your interactions. They were uncomplicated, free from the burdens of your other life. And maybe that was enough. For now, you were content with the way things were—connected in the library, yet worlds apart outside of it.

While you’re busy working, your invisible in-ear device—designed solely for your organization to contact you and deliver news without blowing your cover—beeps. A voice mail from one of the higher-ups begins to play. “Agent Sylvil, this is Director Han. There’s a meeting scheduled for tonight at 2100 hours. We need you to head to the headquarters as soon as possible. There have been some developments that require your immediate attention. Do not be late.”

The stern and authoritative voice of Director Han successfully drags you out of your thoughts. The voicemail serves as a very direct and firm reminder of why exactly you can’t let Wooyoung into your world. You let out a sigh, the weight of your duties pressing down on you, and look up from your computer. There, just a few tables and aisles away, sits Wooyoung. To your surprise, you find him already looking at you. His expression is unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place. Before you can muster a smile, he quickly averts his gaze, focusing intently on the book laid out in front of him on the desk.

You check the time. Three hours before your shift ends and three hours before you have to go to the headquarters. The clock seems to tick louder, each second a reminder of your impending duties. You reach for your mug, only to be surprised by its unexpected lightness. You hadn’t even noticed you had already drunk all of your coffee, too consumed by your swirling thoughts. Sighing, you place the empty mug down and rub your temples. The simplicity of your interactions with Wooyoung had a comforting allure, a stark contrast to the complexity of your covert life. But moments like this voicemail snap you back to reality, emphasizing the clear line that must be maintained between your librarian persona and your identity as a spy.

You glance at Wooyoung one last time. He’s engrossed in his book, completely unaware of the clandestine world you navigate outside the library. Part of you envies his ignorance, the peaceful simplicity of a life not bound by secrets and danger. As the minutes tick by, you try to refocus on your work. Yet, the knowledge of the meeting and what it could entail lingers at the back of your mind, an insistent reminder of the life you lead when the library doors close. You can’t afford distractions, and certainly not ones that come with a charming smile and a newfound penchant for art history.

Time passes before you even realize it. Wooyoung had left just a couple of minutes ago, and now it was time to close the library. Thankfully, there were no longer any patrons in the place, making it easier for you to wrap things up. You methodically gather your belongings, lock the doors, and roll down the metal shutter to secure the entrance.

Once everything is in order, you make your way to the headquarters, located deep in a deserted alleyway that no one would suspect. As you approach the unassuming brick wall, you press a hidden button concealed within a loose brick. The wall slides open silently, revealing a sleek, high-tech entrance. You step inside, greeted by a sterile corridor illuminated by dim, bluish lights. As you walk, sensors scan your biometric data, confirming your identity. The walls shimmer momentarily before displaying a welcome message on a holographic screen. You continue down the hallway until you reach a large metal door. It opens automatically as you approach, revealing an elevator.

Entering the elevator, you press your hand against a glass panel. A soft voice confirms, “Identity verified. Welcome, Agent Sylvil.” The elevator descends rapidly, and you feel a slight shift in gravity before it comes to a smooth stop. The door then slides open. Inside, the headquarters hums with activity. Agents bustle about, attending to their tasks with a precision borne of rigorous training. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and the faint hum of advanced machinery. You navigate through the labyrinthine hallways to the meeting room, arriving just as the clock ticks to 2100 hours. You sigh in relief; at least you are right on time.

The meeting room is stark and minimalist, dominated by a large, interactive screen on one wall. The table is already set with a holographic projector and various data pads. You take a seat, maintaining a neutral expression as the Director, the highest-ranking officer in your organization, greets you.

“Agent Sylvil,” she begins, “thank you for coming on such short notice.” You take a seat, maintaining a neutral expression as she starts to brief you on a new rising threat hidden in the shadows. “Our security patrol has reported the appearance of a new thief on the scene.”

You shift slightly in your seat, intrigued but careful to remain composed. “So far, we’ve managed to gather only a few pieces of information,” Director Han says, her tone grim. “This thief is a young man, around your age, and has been given the codename ‘Crimson Fox’ as a patrol member had described him to us as a stealthy, cunning being. Despite our best efforts, we’ve been unable to track him or gather any substantial intel, which is highly unusual for our operations.”

Your curiosity is piqued now. “And what makes him so different from the others we’ve dealt with?” you ask, leaning forward.

Director Han taps the air, and a screen projects in front of you, displaying the image of a priceless painting by an obscure Renaissance artist named “The Midnight Watch.”

“What about this?” you inquired, needing further context as to why she was showing you this painting in particular.

“Based on the analysis made by Director Kang, the Crimson Fox is most likely eyeing this artifact as his target,” she continues, “and because of this, we’re assigning you the mission to capture the Crimson Fox and prevent him from getting his hands on this artifact at all costs.”

You study the projected screen, reading a particular statement that says this painting is highly guarded. You then click on the arrow button on the right to read the other pages containing further information. “It says here that this painting does not hold any significant form of value,” you point out, turning to Director Han. “Shouldn’t this mission be passed down to an agent of a lower rank?”

“Do not question your duties,” she interjects, coming off a little too defensive than necessary, making your eyebrows slightly furrow in confusion. Noticing the expression on your face, she clears her throat, composing herself.

“Well, we cannot pass this down to a less experienced agent because the Crimson Fox is not like any of the thieves you’ve encountered before. His methods are untraceable,” she admits. “He leaves no clues behind. Our tech team has been working around the clock to find any digital footprints, but so far, they’ve come up empty-handed. His skills are... unprecedented.”

You nod slowly, processing the information. “Hence why you believe I’m the best person for this mission?” you ask, needing to hear it from her directly.

Director Han’s gaze is intense as she looks at you. “Precisely. If you complete this mission successfully, you will be promoted to a higher-up position. If you fail, the consequences won’t fall solely on you—but rather on the entire organization. A professional criminal on the loose is unacceptable.”

She pauses for a moment, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. “We believe you are the only one capable of catching him. Your track record speaks for itself, and your unique skill set makes you the ideal candidate.”

You take a deep breath. “I understand,” you say firmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him in.”

Director Han nods approvingly. “Good. We’ve gathered all the intel we could on the Crimson Fox, although it’s not much. You’ll find the files in your personal database. Study them thoroughly. We need you to be ready for anything.” She taps a few buttons on the console, and the screen shifts to display a detailed map of the Crimson Fox’s recent sightings. “These are the sites of his recent activities. Notice the pattern?”

You squint at the map, recognizing the strategic positioning of each move of his. “He’s traveling in a circle, gradually tightening the radius around... here,” you point to a central location.

“Precisely,” the Director confirms. “That’s why we need to act fast before he gets his hands on The Midnight Watch.”

You rise from your seat, nodding at Director Han with a firm gaze. “Consider it done.”

When you leave the meeting room, you tap the high-tech wristwatch you wear, which then automatically transforms your attire from the pencil skirt and white dress shirt you wore for work at the library into your high-tech suit. The suit itself is a marvel of modern engineering, designed specifically for covert operations. Made from a lightweight, flexible material known as nanotex, it adapts to your body’s movements, providing both comfort and protection. The outer layer is reinforced with a graphene mesh that can deflect small-caliber bullets and absorb impacts, while the inner layer is equipped with temperature-regulating technology to keep you comfortable in any environment.

Embedded within the suit are a series of micro-circuits that allow for advanced functionalities. A holographic interface on your left forearm can project a variety of tools, from a digital map to hacking devices. The gloves are equipped with micro-suction technology, enabling you to scale vertical surfaces with ease. Your boots contain silent thrusters for controlled leaps and soft landings, ensuring your movements remain undetected. The suit’s most impressive feature, however, is its adaptive camouflage, which can mimic the colors and textures of your surroundings, rendering you nearly invisible in low-light conditions.

You head back to the elevator, this time to leave the headquarters, and when you emerge back on the surface, you’re met by the cold, chilly evening air. You glance up at the moon, taking a moment to center yourself before slipping on the mask that conceals your identity. The mask is crafted from a similar nanotex material as the suit and is fitted with an advanced HUD (heads-up display) that provides real-time data on your surroundings. It also features voice modulation to disguise your voice, and a built-in rebreather allows for up to an hour of air supply in case of emergency. The mask’s exterior is matte black, designed to absorb light and avoid detection, with a sleek, streamlined shape that conforms to your facial structure.

You shoot a grappling device, known as a grapnel gun, into the air. It’s equipped with a high-tensile cable and a powerful winch, allowing you to ascend quickly and quietly to the top of a tall building. The device anchors itself into the wall, and with a quick flick of your wrist, you are pulled up, your body rising effortlessly into the night sky. Stealthily, you jump and move in swift, agile motions across the rooftops, blending into the cityscape as you head towards the museum that houses The Midnight Watch.

Upon reaching the museum, you find an entrance through an open window on the roof. You move with careful precision, avoiding the beams of light from the security cameras and the paths of patrolling guards. Your suit’s camouflage feature helps you blend into the shadows, making you nearly invisible. Just as the data earlier described, the museum is heavily guarded. The question of why it’s so heavily protected lingers in your mind, adding to the mystery.

Finding a vantage point on the roof, you settle into the shadows, your form melding seamlessly with the darkness. You scan the area, eyes sharp for any sign of movement. Just then, you catch a glimpse of another figure moving swiftly on the ground, approaching the museum from the opposite side. The fluidity of their movements, the confident strides—it can only be one person. Just as you predicted.

The Crimson Fox.

You watch him effortlessly maneuver through the red laser security beams, his movements so fluid and precise that it almost seems like a choreographed dance. It’s not every day you encounter a thief as skilled as he is—it’s almost as if he moves just like you, with the same blend of agility and precision. Carefully, you shift to a different position, your eyes never leaving him as he edges closer to the painting. Timing it perfectly as he flips in the air, you press a button on your suit, launching a high-tech tracking dart. The dart, sleek and nearly invisible, is designed to embed itself in the target and transmit their location back to your suit’s HUD in real time.

Much to your surprise, he catches it mid-air with his fingers, an impressive feat that makes your eyes widen momentarily. When he lands, just before he can turn his head to pinpoint where the dart came from, you swiftly and silently drop down from your perch, avoiding the lasers with practiced ease. You move in circles, attempting to distract him. He mirrors your movements, staying just a millisecond behind you. The dance of shadows and swift movements continues, each of you testing the other’s limits. You leap into the air, aiming to tackle him, but he’s quick, instantly jumping to another spot, leaving you to land where he had just been.

“You’re pretty good, huh?” he says, his voice deep and sultry. “Too bad you’re not good enough.”

He throws a decoy object into the air, your eyes widening in surprise. You run to the wall, using it as a springboard to propel yourself into the air, catching the object just before it hits a laser. When you turn, you see the Crimson Fox already on the other side of the room, making his way to the museum’s exit hall with the painting in hand. He flashes you a playful wink through his mask before making a run for it. You let out a soft groan of frustration, quickly maneuvering through the lasers to match his pace. Your movements are precise, calculated, but so are his. The chase is on.

Your suit’s augmented reality system projects a map of the museum, highlighting potential exits and security points. You see him head for the nearest exit and you take a shortcut through a series of narrow corridors, hoping to cut him off. As you race through the labyrinthine hallways, your mind races, analyzing his possible routes and strategies.

Bursting out into the main hall, you spot him just a few meters ahead, his figure sleek and confident. You pick up speed, your boots’ silent thrusters giving you an extra burst. Just as he reaches for the door, you leap forward, tackling him to the ground. The painting slips from his grasp, sliding across the marble floor. He rolls with the impact, attempting to pin you, but you’re faster. You twist out of his hold, springing to your feet and blocking his path to the painting. For a moment, the two of you stand there, eyes locked in a silent challenge. “You’re not getting away from me,” you state, your voice firm.

His lips curve into a smirk beneath his mask. “We’ll see about that.”

In a flurry of motion, the fight resumes. He’s fast, but so are you. Each strike and counter-strike is a blur, a testament to both your skills. He lunges forward, aiming a punch at your midsection, but you sidestep just in time, bringing your elbow down toward his back. He twists away, grinning beneath his mask.

“Is that all you’ve got, Agent?” he taunts, his voice laced with mockery.

You remain silent, your expression calm and composed. You know better than to rise to his bait. Instead, you focus on your breathing, your movements, waiting for the perfect moment. He circles you, his eyes gleaming with amusement and challenge.

“Aww, come on, don’t be so cold,” he continues, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I thought we were having fun.”

He throws a high kick toward your head, but you duck under it, countering with a swift jab to his ribs. He grunts, stepping back but quickly recovering. He swipes at your legs with a low kick, attempting to unbalance you. You jump, spinning mid-air to deliver a kick to his chest. He blocks it, but the force pushes him back a step.

“Not bad,” he admits, still smirking. “You’ll have to do better than that, though.”

You narrow your eyes, deciding to up the ante. You feint a punch to his face, and when he moves to block, you pivot, delivering a knee to his stomach. He doubles over slightly, but his reflexes are sharp. He grabs your leg, twisting you off balance. You roll with the motion, using the momentum to bring your other leg around in a sweeping kick that catches him off guard. He stumbles, and you seize the opportunity, launching a rapid series of punches. He blocks most of them, but you manage to land a solid hit to his jaw. He staggers, but then a glint of something mischievous flashes in his eyes.

“You’re pretty impressive,” he breathes, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. “But let’s see how you’ll turn this in your favor.”

With that, he pulls out a small, round device from his belt and throws it to the ground. A thick cloud of smoke erupts, enveloping you both. Your vision blurs, the acrid scent stinging your eyes and nose. You cough, trying to clear your senses as you hear his footsteps moving through the haze.

“You think a little smoke will stop me?” you call out, your voice steady despite the irritation in your throat.

“Oh, I don’t expect it to stop you,” his voice echoes back, sly and teasing. “Just slow you down.”

You focus, listening intently. Through the smoke, you catch a faint outline of his figure. You dart forward, aiming for where you think he’ll be. Your fist meets air, but then you feel a presence behind you. You spin around, just in time to block a strike aimed at your back. The two of you exchange blows in the smoke, each trying to gain the upper hand. “Getting tired?” he mocks, his breath hot against your ear as he tries to grapple you. “Hardly,” you reply, your tone icy and controlled.

You twist out of his grasp, elbowing him in the ribs and then landing a punch to his side. He grunts, but you can tell he’s still smirking under that mask. You can almost feel his amusement, his enjoyment of the challenge you present.

As the smoke begins to dissipate, you both emerge from the cloud, circling each other once more. You see a flicker of calculation in his eyes, and you know he’s planning his next move. You brace yourself, ready for whatever trick he has up his sleeve. He lunges again, but this time you’re prepared. You catch his arm, twisting it behind his back and kicking his legs out from under him. He falls to the ground, but he rolls quickly, springing back to his feet with an agility that impresses you despite yourself.

“Seems your little organization knew what they were doing when they decided to send you to catch me,” he says, genuinely this time, his voice breathless but still edged with that mocking tone. “A pity that you won’t be able to succeed, though.”

He reaches for another device, but you’re quicker. You knock it out of his hand, sending it skittering across the floor. He curses under his breath, and for a moment, his playful demeanor drops, replaced by something more serious, more dangerous. The two of you lock eyes, and you can see the challenge in his gaze, the unspoken promise that this isn’t over. He makes a feint to the left, and you move to block, but he spins to the right, his hand darting out to grab the painting. Just as he snatches it, you react, sending a high-tech bullet from your suit, aiming to disable him. But he catches it mid-air, his reflexes astonishing.

“See ya.”

He gives you a quick, mocking salute before disappearing into the shadows, leaving you standing there, hands balled into fists as you seethe with anger.

Just then, you hear footsteps from a fair distance. Quick on your feet, you scale the walls and slip through a shortcut exit just before the security guards catch up. You leap off from the mansion, using your grapnel to swing between buildings. The cityscape blurs around you as you deftly maneuver, finally settling on a rooftop to update the organization.

You tap your in-ear monitor, and it beeps twice, signaling it's ready to record the voice mail. “Agent Sylvil reporting. The Crimson Fox has secured the Midnight Watch and managed to evade capture. His skills are exceptional. I recommend arranging a meeting with the director board to discuss further strategies. Director Han’s assessment was accurate; this mission requires precise and advanced handling.”

Finishing the recording, you send the message. Then, you sit on the rooftop, reflecting on the night’s events. It’s your first encounter with the Crimson Fox, but given his swift escape, you know it definitely won’t be the last. His movements were fluid, his tactics ingenious, and his demeanor… he was infuriatingly confident. As much as his arrogance grated on your nerves, you can’t deny the spark of excitement it ignited. It’s rare to find an adversary who truly challenges you, and the Crimson Fox did just that. His mocking words and playful manner suggested he barely saw you as a threat, which both angered and intrigued you.

You replay the fight in your mind, analyzing each move, each counter. His agility, his quick thinking, his ability to catch your high-tech bullet mid-air—he was indeed a formidable opponent. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline of the fight, it all reminded you why you chose this life. For all its dangers and secrets, it was moments like these that made it worth it. The cold evening air settles around you, the city below buzzing with life unaware of the silent battles fought above. You take a deep breath, centering yourself. The next encounter with the Crimson Fox will be different. Now that you’ve experienced his capabilities firsthand, you’re more determined than ever to capture him.

The moon casts a silver glow on the rooftop as you stand, your silhouette blending with the night. You glance at the cityscape, your mind already planning the next steps. The mission has just begun, and you’re ready for the challenge. With a final look at the city, you engage your grapnel and swing into the night on your way back to the headquarters, your thoughts focused on the elusive thief and the thrill of the hunt.

Soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of the director board. The room is dimly lit, with a long mahogany table at the center. Holographic screens line the walls, displaying various data points and live feeds from different missions around the globe. You take a deep breath, readying yourself for the detailed debriefing. “Good evening,” you begin, your voice calm and composed. “Thank you for convening on such short notice and understanding the urgency of the matter at hand.”

Director Han nods, her eyes fixed on you. “Agent Sylvil, please proceed with your report.”

You activate the holographic projector in the center of the table, which springs to life with a 3D representation of the museum. “As per the mission parameters, I infiltrated the museum housing The Midnight Watch. The Crimson Fox, as predicted, made an appearance.”

The directors listen with utmost attention, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. “What were his methods?” Director Kang asks, his brow furrowed.

“Impressive,” you admit. “He bypassed the security lasers with an ease that suggests extensive training. His movements were calculated, almost as if he anticipated every countermeasure in place.” You replay a section of the surveillance footage, highlighting the Crimson Fox’s agility and precision as he evades the laser beams.

Director Liu interjects, “What can you tell us about his physical capabilities?”

“Exceptional reflexes and strength,” you reply. “During our confrontation, he caught a high-tech bullet I fired at him mid-air, and he moved with a speed that matched my own. We engaged in close combat, where his skills were evident.”

You take a deep breath, ready to recount the encounter with precision. “The fight was intense, a true test of both our abilities. It began with me tackling him down on the ground, but he was quick on his feet to slip out of my grasp.”

The directors lean in, listening intently. “He anticipated my next move, sidestepping just in time to avoid a follow-up strike. His agility is remarkable. As I pivoted to face him, he used a spinning kick aimed at my head, but I ducked and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the ground, but he recovered almost instantly, rolling away and springing back to his feet.”

You pause, replaying the vivid memories in your mind. “We exchanged a series of blows—punches, kicks, blocks, you name it. Each move was met with a counter. His fighting style is unconventional, incorporating elements of various martial arts, which made it difficult to predict. He doesn’t adhere to a single discipline, which kept me on my toes.”

Director Han nods, gesturing for you to continue. “What about his defensive maneuvers?” she pushes further while spinning a pen in her hand, trying to ground the feeling of being on edge consuming her.

“He’s incredibly adaptive,” you explain. “When I attempted a grappling technique, aiming to subdue him, he twisted his body with an almost serpentine flexibility, breaking free from my hold. He then countered with a palm strike to my sternum, knocking me back a few steps. His strikes were precise, targeting vulnerable points with pinpoint accuracy.”

Director Kang interjects, “And how did you manage to gain the upper hand?”

“I capitalized on his momentary lapse in focus,” you reply. “After a particularly aggressive exchange, he hesitated for a fraction of a second—perhaps assessing his next move. I seized that moment to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to his side, sending him staggering. He stumbled, clearly winded, and that’s when I thought I had him.”

You pause, the memory still fresh. “But he’s resourceful. Before I could press my advantage, he reached into his belt and pulled out a small device—a smoke bomb. He threw it to the ground, and within seconds, a thick cloud of smoke enveloped us. I tried to locate him, but the visibility was almost zero.”

The directors furrow their brows as you continue. “The fight continued within the smoke. I could barely see him, but I could hear his movements. He used the smoke to his advantage, striking from unexpected angles. I had to rely on my other senses, listening for the slightest sound, feeling the air shift with his movements.”

You lean forward, emphasizing the intensity of the moment. “He came at me from the side, delivering a quick succession of punches. I managed to block most of them, but one caught my shoulder, pushing me back. I retaliated with a low sweep, hoping to trip him, but he jumped over my leg and countered with a kick aimed at my head.”

Director Liu looks concerned. “And you were fighting blind?”

“Essentially, yes,” you confirm. “But so was he, to some extent. It became a test of reflexes and instincts. I landed a solid hit to his midsection, forcing him to stumble back, but he quickly recovered. He moved with an eerie precision, almost as if he could see through the smoke.”

“At one point, I managed to land another solid strike, knocking him off balance. He was momentarily disoriented, and I moved in to finish it. But he was one step ahead of me, and so he escaped by disappearing into the shadows before I could initiate my next move,” you conclude.

Director Kang speaks up, “His use of the smoke bomb indicates he was prepared for a prolonged fight. This suggests he knew he might encounter resistance and planned accordingly.”

“Indeed,” you agree. “His preparation and adaptability make him a formidable opponent. He’s not just skilled in combat but also in tactical evasion. This was not a random act of theft—he’s calculated and strategic in his approach.”

Director Han taps her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “What about his demeanor? Any psychological insights?”

You pause, recalling the encounter. “Mocking and confident. He seems to enjoy the thrill of the chase, using sarcasm and taunts to unnerve his opponents. He referred to our skills as ‘not good enough’ and even threw a decoy object to distract me while he made his escape.”

Director Kang leans back in his chair, contemplating. “So, he’s not just skilled but also psychologically manipulative. This makes him a more dangerous adversary.”

“Agreed,” you nod. “He managed to secure The Midnight Watch and evade capture. His confidence suggests he has faced numerous challenges and emerged victorious.”

Director Liu turns to you, her expression serious. “Agent Sylvil, how do you propose we proceed?”

You take a deep breath. “Given his capabilities, we need a multi-faceted approach. Increased surveillance on potential targets, advanced countermeasures tailored to his techniques, and psychological profiling to predict his next move. Additionally, I recommend setting traps designed specifically to counter his known strategies.”

The directors nod, absorbing your suggestions. Director Han speaks up, “We’ll allocate additional resources to this mission. It’s clear that the Crimson Fox is not an ordinary thief.”

Director Kang adds, “We should also consider the possibility of a mole within our ranks. His knowledge of the museum’s security was too precise to be a coincidence.”

The meeting continues, with each director contributing their insights and strategies. They discuss deploying additional agents, enhancing technological defenses, and setting up surveillance in key locations. The holographic screens flicker with data as plans are formulated.

After an extensive discussion, Director Han turns to you. “Agent Sylvil, this mission is now your top priority. We trust your expertise and judgment to bring the Crimson Fox to justice.”

You straighten your posture, a sense of determination filling you. “Understood. I will not let him slip through our fingers again.”

With that, the meeting adjourns. The directors disperse, leaving you to finalize the details of the new strategies. You take a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of the mission settling on your shoulders. As you leave the meeting room, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before deciding to head to the tech experts’ department, mind already racing with plans and the need for advanced equipment to catch the elusive Crimson Fox. Once you arrive at a secure door, you swipe your ID card, and the door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing the hub of innovation where the brightest minds in the organization work tirelessly.

Inside, the atmosphere is one of focused intensity. Technicians and engineers huddle over holographic interfaces, 3D printers whirr as they produce prototype components, and large screens display streams of data from ongoing missions. You spot Dr. Yoo, the head of the tech department, a sharp-eyed woman with a mind as quick as her hands. “Agent Sylvil,” Dr. Yoo greets you with a nod, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of the urgency you must feel. “What brings you here?”

“Dr. Yoo,” you begin, “I need your team’s help. The Crimson Fox is unlike any adversary we’ve faced. His skills are exceptional, and our current surveillance capabilities aren’t enough. I need enhancements in surveillance tech, innovative traps, and some upgrades to my suit and weaponry.”

Dr. Yoo’s eyes gleam with interest. “Ah, yes. Director Han had informed me of your mission beforehand. Surveillance enhancements, you say? We can certainly help with that.” She leads you to a workstation where several screens display live feeds from various parts of the city. “We’ve been developing a new type of drone—silent, virtually invisible to the naked eye, and equipped with AI-driven tracking algorithms. These drones can patrol a set perimeter, identify unusual patterns, and follow targets without being detected.”

She types a few commands, and a small, sleek drone materializes on a platform beside her. “We call it the ‘Ghost Falcon.’ It can relay real-time data back to your wrist device, providing you with constant updates on the target’s location and movements.”

“Next, for trapping mechanisms,” Dr. Yoo continues, walking over to another section of the lab, “we've been working on deployable traps that can be used in urban environments. These include smart tripwires that can be set up quickly and remotely activated, and adhesive gel bombs that can immobilize a target upon contact.”

She gestures to a table where various gadgets are laid out. “These are our latest models. The tripwires are nearly invisible and can send an alert to your wrist device when triggered. The adhesive gel bombs can be thrown or launched from a distance, endangering anyone within its range.”

“Now, let’s talk about your suit.” Dr. Yoo pulls up a holographic model of your current suit, spinning it in the air with a swipe. “I propose we upgrade your suit with enhanced plating—lightweight but incredibly strong, along with new functions.”

She points to the wrist section of the hologram. “We’ll also integrate advanced tech into your gloves. These can now emit an electromagnetic pulse to disable electronic devices temporarily, which could come in handy if the Crimson Fox uses tech against you.”

“And for weaponry,” Dr. Yoo says, moving to a locked cabinet, “we have some new additions. Here’s a high-frequency stun baton, designed to incapacitate without permanent damage. It has an extendable reach, allowing you to engage from a safe distance.”

She unlocks the cabinet, revealing a sleek, compact crossbow. “This is a micro-crossbow, firing tranquilizer darts with pinpoint accuracy. It’s silent and effective, perfect for stealth operations.”

You straighten yourself, feeling a renewed sense of readiness. “Thank you, Dr. Yoo. These upgrades will make a significant difference.”

Dr. Yoo nods, her expression serious. “We’re all counting on you, Agent Sylvil. Catching the Crimson Fox is crucial.”

After finalizing your discussions with the tech experts, you make your way to the elevator. The high-tech suit clings to your form, feeling like a second skin. As you descend, you press a sequence of buttons on your wristwatch. The suit begins to morph, retracting seamlessly into the wristwatch. The material shifts and transforms, layer by layer, until it becomes the familiar fabric of your pencil skirt and white dress shirt. By the time the elevator doors open to the surface, you appear as the diligent librarian once more, ready to blend into the mundane world outside. The cold evening air greets you, a stark contrast to the high-tech environment you just left. You draw a deep breath, allowing the exhaustion to surface as you make your way home.

The walk home feels interminable. Each step is heavy, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you. Your muscles protest, a dull ache from the intense physical exertion of your encounter with the Crimson Fox. Your mind races with thoughts of strategies and the upgrades to your equipment. Streetlights cast long shadows, and the city’s hum is a distant background noise as you finally reach your apartment building. The familiar sight brings a small sense of relief, a sanctuary from the day’s demands.

As soon as you step inside your apartment, the weight of the day seems to lift slightly. You drop your bag from your shoulder, the thud it makes as it hits the floor symbolizing the shedding of your burdens. You pick it back up and hang it on the rack by the door, a habit that brings a sense of order to the chaos of your life. Slipping off your heels, you place them neatly on the shoe rack, taking a moment to appreciate the simple comfort of being barefoot.

You move through your apartment, each step bringing you closer to the sanctuary of your room. The familiar surroundings offer a sense of comfort. Your room is a haven, a place where you can let down your guard. You take off your glasses, placing them carefully on your bedside table. The act of changing into comfortable clothes feels like removing a layer of tension. In the bathroom, you splash cool water on your face, the sensation refreshing and grounding. Finally, you collapse onto your bed, sinking into the mattress with a deep sigh, the weight of the day slipping away.

Lying on your bed, you stare at the ceiling, your mind replaying the events of the day in vivid detail. The meeting with the directors, each face etched with concern and determination, lingers at the forefront of your thoughts. The weight of their expectations had been palpable, each word and directive underscoring the gravity of the mission. Director Han’s gaze and the gravity in her tone emphasized the importance of capturing the Crimson Fox. As you recalled your encounter, the room had been silent, each director hanging on your every word. The fight had been more than a mere physical confrontation; it was a battle of wits, a dance of strategy and skill.

The discussions with the tech department replay in your mind as well. Their enthusiasm and expertise were evident as they explained the new modifications and enhancements they would integrate into your suit. Each upgrade was meticulously designed, aimed at giving you the edge needed to outmaneuver the Crimson Fox. The advanced surveillance systems, the innovative traps, and the weapon enhancements—all crafted to ensure your success. You could still hear the excitement in their voices, their confidence in their technology bolstering your resolve. They believed in you, and that belief was a powerful motivator.

But most of all, the encounter with the Crimson Fox dominates your thoughts. Every detail is etched into your memory: the way he moved, the confidence in his stride, the playful yet calculating glint in his eyes. His skills were astonishing, each move calculated and precise, as if he had been doing this for years. Yet he was a new thief on the scene, his methods untraceable, his origins unknown. His confidence, his playful demeanor—it was unnerving and intriguing. He had treated the confrontation like a game, his taunts laced with mockery and challenge. It was almost as if he knew he was untouchable, as if he thrived on the thrill of the chase.

You find yourself replaying the fight in your mind, analyzing each move, each tactic. His agility, his quick reflexes, the way he anticipated your actions—it all points to extensive training and experience. But where did he come from? How did he develop such skills? The mystery of his identity gnaws at you, a puzzle that refuses to be solved. You can still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the intensity of the fight, the close calls, and the moment when he slipped through your grasp.

Who was he? The question echoes in your mind, refusing to be silenced. Capturing him is no longer just about completing your mission or earning a promotion. It’s about understanding him, uncovering the mystery behind the mask. Each taunt, each move he made seemed to be a clue, a piece of a larger puzzle. You realize that this chase is only the beginning of a much larger game, a game that you are determined to win. His motives remain unclear. Why target “The Midnight Watch”? The painting, while appearing to be valuable, seemed an unusual choice for such a high-profile thief.

His confidence, his playful demeanor—there was something almost familiar about it, a nagging sensation at the back of your mind. It was as if you had encountered this kind of adversary before, someone who enjoyed the thrill of the game as much as the spoils. Yet, despite his confidence and skill, he had shown respect in his own way, acknowledging your abilities, even if through taunts and challenges. It was a strange dynamic, one that you couldn’t quite place. Was he testing you? Pushing you to see how far you could go?

You turn over, closing your eyes after setting an alarm for work tomorrow. Plans and strategies swirl in your mind, interwoven with the enigmatic figure of the Crimson Fox. His skills, his words, his smirk—they all replay in your mind as you drift off to sleep.

—

The blaring sound of your alarm rouses you from sleep, and you groan softly as sunlight filters through the curtains, striking your face. You sit up slowly, yawning and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Glancing at your phone, you see that you still have an hour before the library opens. Determined to start your day right, you stretch and stand, moving to fix your bed, smoothing out the sheets and fluffing the pillows until everything is neatly in place.

Heading to the bathroom, you begin your morning routine. First, you splash cold water on your face, waking yourself up fully. Then, you wash your face with a gentle cleanser, massaging it into your skin before rinsing it off with warm water. After patting your face dry with a soft towel, you apply a refreshing toner, followed by a light moisturizer to keep your skin hydrated. You then hop into the shower, letting the warm water relax your muscles as you lather shampoo into your hair, rinse, and follow with a conditioner. After washing your body with a fragrant body wash, you rinse off and step out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel.

Once you finish drying off, you brush your teeth thoroughly, ensuring they are clean and fresh. You run a comb through your hair, detangling any knots, and then blow-dry it until it falls into a smooth, manageable style. Returning to your bedroom, you open your closet and run your hand along the rack, considering your options for the day.

You settle on a chic yet professional outfit that perfectly balances style and sophistication. You choose a tailored, knee-length pencil skirt in a deep navy blue, which hugs your figure while maintaining a professional appearance. Paired with it, you opt for a crisp white blouse with subtle ruffle detailing along the neckline and cuffs, adding a touch of femininity and elegance. Over the blouse, you wear a fitted blazer in a matching navy blue, cinched at the waist with a slim belt. The outfit is completed with a pair of sleek black heels, adding a bit of height and polish to your look. Underneath the sleeve of your blazer, you securely fasten your high-tech wristwatch, ensuring it's discreetly hidden but easily accessible.

You sit down at your vanity, turning on the lighted mirror to begin fixing yourself up. Once you’re satisfied with your facial look, you move on to your hair, deciding on a sophisticated yet simple style. After a final check in the mirror, you stand and give yourself one last glance in the full-length mirror, ensuring everything is in place.

Grabbing your bag, you head to the entrance, slipping into your black heels and making sure they are comfortable. You hang your bag over your shoulder and step out, locking the door behind you. The cool morning air greets you as you begin your usual walk to the library. The streets are still quiet, the hustle and bustle of the day yet to begin.

You arrive at the library, pulling up the metal shutter and inserting your keys into the door, the familiar click bringing a small measure of comfort as you step inside. The familiar scent of books and the quiet ambiance welcome you, and you take a deep breath, feeling a sense of calmness as you prepare for the day ahead. You turn on the lights, arrange the new arrivals on the display, and make sure everything is in order before opening the doors to the public. Once you’re finished, you head to the door to flip the sign from “Closed” to “Open,” walking back to the registrar afterwards. You then sit down, ready to immerse yourself in the tasks at hand.

A steady stream of patrons then eventually begin to fill the space, each one on a mission to either borrow new books or return their previous selections. The sound of footsteps, hushed conversations, and the rustling of pages creates a symphony of activity that fills the otherwise quiet room. You find yourself at the center of it all, seated behind the front desk, diligently managing the influx of customers.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard as you enter return dates and update records in the computer system. The scanner beeps rhythmically as you process each book, ensuring every title is properly logged back into the library’s inventory. Every now and then, a patron asks for recommendations or assistance finding a particular book, and you offer them a warm smile and helpful advice. The hours seem to blend together in a blur of transactions and interactions.

The morning passes quickly, the library bustling with activity. You barely have time to notice the growing stack of returned books piling up beside your desk. Just as you reach for another book to scan, a familiar voice breaks through the din, pulling you from your focused trance.

“Hey there.”

You tear your eyes away from the computer screen and manage a small smile upon recognizing the speaker. “Oh, hey, Wooyoung.” His presence is a welcome distraction, and you notice the book he places on the counter—“The History of Art,” the same one he borrowed before.

“Finished reading it already? You’re pretty fast,” you muse, engaging in small talk as you take the book and begin the process of returning it to the system. You scan the barcode, ensuring the book is properly checked back in and available for other patrons.

“Yep. Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Wooyoung replies, leaning casually against the counter, pulling down the sleeves of his hoodie slightly—why does he always choose to wear such items of clothing despite the blazing weather?

You chuckle softly. “This book must have been really useful for you, huh?” You glance at the computer screen as the system confirms the book’s return, then move to type in some additional notes.

For a moment, there’s a comfortable silence between you, filled only by the clicking of your keyboard. You can feel Wooyoung’s gaze on you, and although it’s not directly in your line of sight, his attention is palpable. Keeping your eyes on the computer, you address the unspoken question. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat, seeming slightly flustered. “I just... you look pretty tired?”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise at his comment, and you tilt your head curiously. “Do I?” You open the desk drawer and pull out a small hand mirror, angling it to inspect your reflection. Indeed, there are faint dark circles under your eyes, subtle but noticeable upon closer inspection. “Huh.”

Wooyoung shifts slightly, his concern genuine despite his earlier teasing tone. “Yeah, just a bit. Rough night?”

You nod slightly, placing the mirror back in the drawer. “You could say that. Just some work stuff keeping me up.”

He offers a sympathetic smile. “Well, don’t push yourself too hard. You need rest too, you know.”

You smile back, appreciating his concern. “Thanks, Wooyoung. I’ll try to take it easy.”

As the conversation lulls, you finish updating the system with the returned book and place it on the cart to be reshelved later. Wooyoung lingers for a moment longer, seemingly hesitant to leave.

“So, are you borrowing anything new today?” you ask, shifting the topic back to the library’s purpose.

He seems to snap out of his thoughts and grins. “Actually, yes. I was thinking of diving into something different this time. Any recommendations?”

You stand, gesturing for him to follow you. “Sure, let’s see what we can find.” As you walk through the aisles, you turn to Wooyoung, genuinely curious about his reading preferences. He’s busy looking around, so when he fails to notice you stopping in your tracks, his chest bumps into your shoulder blades, and he hisses lightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Your eyebrows shoot up in concern, and just as you’re about to hold your hand forward to touch his chest, you quickly retract it, realizing you might make him uncomfortable. It seems as if you’re both on the same page, as he immediately took a step back.

“Don’t mind it,” he waves you off. “Were you gonna ask me something?” he inquires, hoping to steer away from what just happened. Thankfully, you had the same intention as well, so you go along with his flow.

“I was gonna ask if there’s any topic or genre you’re particularly interested in lately?” You tilt your head as you wait for his answer, eager to find the perfect recommendations for him.

Wooyoung scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Actually, I’ve been fascinated by the history of rare and valuable artifacts recently. Especially those from ancient civilizations.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. It’s a rather specific and intriguing interest. “Oh, great choice. I’ve got a few recommendations for that.” You smile, leading him toward the section dedicated to ancient artifacts and their histories.

You proceed to guide Wooyoung through the aisle dedicated to ancient artifacts, pulling out a book titled “Lost Treasures of the Ancient World” and handing it to him. “This one covers a variety of artifacts from different civilizations, including their historical significance and the stories behind their discoveries,” you explain, flipping through the pages to show him illustrations of ancient relics.

Wooyoung’s eyes light up with interest as he examines the pages. “Wow, look at this!” he whisper-shouts, pointing to a detailed map of archaeological sites. “I didn’t realize there were so many different ancient civilizations with their own treasures.”

You nod, smiling. “This book also discusses how these treasures were unearthed and the challenges faced by archaeologists.”

“That must be an adventure in itself,” Wooyoung remarks with a grin. “Imagine digging up an ancient tomb and finding treasures untouched for thousands of years.”

You proceed to pull out another book from the shelves, titled “The Secrets of Ancient Egypt: From Pharaohs to Treasure Hunters.” You lend him the book, explaining its coverage soon after. “This delves into the world of Egyptian artifacts, their mystical significance, and the pharaohs who were entombed with them.”

Wooyoung’s gaze is fixed on a page depicting hieroglyphics. “Egyptian mythology sure is fascinating,” he muses, tracing the symbols with his finger. “It’s like a window into a world where gods and mortals coexisted.”

You smile, enjoying his enthusiasm. “I can’t say I don’t agree. The mysteries of the pyramids and the rituals surrounding mummification are endlessly captivating.”

As you reach for “The Tools of the Ancients: Craftsmanship and Innovation,” you explain, “This book explores the tools and techniques used by ancient civilizations to create these masterpieces.” You show him illustrations of ancient tools and artifacts, discussing their ingenious designs.

Wooyoung’s curiosity is piqued. “You know, things like this always makes me wonder how they achieved such precision without modern technology,” he muses, examining the diagrams closely. “Their craftsmanship was truly ahead of its time.”

As you discuss each book, you can’t help but notice how animated Wooyoung becomes. His genuine curiosity and passion for ancient history are evident in his questions and comments, and you find yourself enjoying the conversation as much as he does.

“Have you always been interested in ancient artifacts?” You turn to him, genuinely curious about his newfound passion.

He smiles, setting down the last book. “Not always,” he admits with a chuckle. “But recently, I’ve found myself drawn to the stories behind these artifacts. They’re like puzzle pieces that unlock secrets from the past.”

You nod in agreement. “It’s incredible how each artifact has its own story to tell, connecting us to our ancestors and their way of life. It’s like uncovering hidden secrets from a forgotten world.”

The moment lingers, a shared understanding passing between you as you find yourself staring into his eyes perhaps a little longer than you’re supposed to. But then you blink, breaking the spell, and turn back to the books. “Well, I think you’re all set with these,” you say warmly, gesturing to the stack he’s accumulated. “I hope you find them as fascinating as I do.”

“I’m sure I will,” he replies sincerely. “Thanks again for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you say, smiling warmly. “Let me know if you need anything else,” you tell him, and he gives you a nod before heading towards the checkout desk with his books, soon then leaving the library.

Returning to the registrar desk, you settle back into your routine. You begin by sorting through the stack of returned books, scanning each one into the computer system to update their status. You take a moment to check the condition of each book, making sure none of them need repairs or special attention before placing them on the cart for reshelving. Next, you turn your attention to the online catalog, processing requests from patrons who have reserved books. You locate the requested items on the shelves behind the desk, scan them out, and prepare them for pickup. Each step requires careful attention to detail, ensuring that every book is accounted for and properly logged in the system.

While you’re engrossed in your work, your invisible in-ear monitor suddenly beeps softly, indicating a new voicemail. Dr. Yoo’s voice then comes through clearly, though only you can hear it. “Agent Sylvil, the tech team has successfully infiltrated the security cameras around the city. We’re now gathering all available footage of the Crimson Fox. I’ll update you with any significant findings as soon as we have them. Stay alert and be ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

When the message finishes, you find yourself lost in thought, momentarily blanking out while keeping your eyes on your computer’s screen. The usual hum of the library fades into the background as you process Dr. Yoo’s update. You look outside the door, met with the sight of the city, and begin wondering if the security camera footage will be of any help. The Crimson Fox’s elusive nature and your recent encounter with him make you skeptical. Given how vigilant he was, it's safe to assume he’s smart enough to avoid being caught on security cameras. But still, you hope for the best-case scenario while also calculating the worst.

You let out a quiet sigh. The city is a vast web of streets and buildings, each with its own secrets. If the tech team can pinpoint his movements, it could provide the breakthrough you need. But the Crimson Fox is no ordinary thief; his agility and skills make him a formidable opponent. He’s proven to be a master of evasion, and underestimating him would be a mistake.

You then redirect your attention to your duties. You start by organizing the returned books, scanning each one into the system. The rhythmic beep of the scanner helps ground you in the present. Each book, once scanned, is carefully examined for any damage before being placed on a cart for reshelving.

Your mind continues to race with thoughts of the Crimson Fox as you process the books. You can’t help but wonder about his next move. What artifact will he target next? What’s his endgame? These questions swirl in your mind, adding a layer of intrigue to your day. As you print out a list of overdue books, your thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of a young student at the desk. He looks nervous, clutching a piece of paper. “Excuse me, can you help me find this book for my project?” he asks, nervously fiddling with the paper in his hands.

“Of course,” you reply with a warm smile, taking the paper from him. “Let’s see what you need.” The request momentarily distracts you from your thoughts about the Crimson Fox, and you guide the student to the appropriate section, helping him locate the reference book he needs.

Returning to the desk, you draft reminder emails for patrons with overdue books. Each email is crafted with care, politely reminding them to return their borrowed items and offering assistance if they need to renew their loans. You take a moment to analyze the circulation statistics, noting which genres are most popular this month and which sections might need restocking.

You take a brief moment to stretch and sip some water. As you glance around the library, you feel a sense of pride in maintaining this peaceful, orderly environment. However, the tech team's success in accessing the city’s security cameras keeps your thoughts anchored to your mission. The possibility of tracking the Crimson Fox through the footage gives you hope, despite the challenges.

Refreshed from your quick break, you dive back into your duties. You stand up from your chair, leaving the counter and taking the cart with you as you begin reshelving the books. You start with the fiction section, carefully placing each book back in its designated spot, making sure the spines are perfectly aligned. You run your fingers along the shelves, ensuring no books are out of order. Moving on to non-fiction, you double-check the Dewey Decimal System numbers, adjusting any misplaced titles. Each book finds its home, from biographies to history volumes.

You take your time with the children’s section, making sure the colorful picture books are easily accessible for little hands. You arrange them neatly, occasionally straightening the whimsical displays. The library feels like an extension of yourself, every detail meticulously managed. Once you finished, you head back to the registrar, resuming your work. The steady rhythm of scanning and processing books returns. Patrons come and go, each interaction brief but pleasant. You answer questions, provide recommendations, and handle transactions with practiced ease.

The day passes by like a blur, and now it’s time for you to close the library. You shut down your computer, standing up and leaving the counter. Thankfully, there are no longer any people around, so you are free to clean and close up the library without worrying about offending anyone by announcing closing hours. You start tidying up the tables, collecting stray books and magazines left behind. You wipe down surfaces, ensuring everything is spotless. Chairs are pushed back under tables, and scattered newspapers are neatly stacked. You walk through the aisles one last time, straightening books and making sure everything is in order.

When you’re done, you head back to the reception desk, taking your bag and pulling out the keys. You step outside, locking the door and pulling down the metal shutter, securing the library for the night. With the library closed, you head to the headquarters, needing to talk to Dr. Yoo for updates regarding the city’s surveillance cameras and any footage of the Crimson Fox. The walk to the headquarters is brisk, your mind focused on the mission ahead.

Once you arrive, you go straight to the tech lab. Dr. Yoo notices your presence immediately and makes her way to you. “Agent Sylvil,” she greets you with a nod.

“Dr. Yoo,” you respond. “Any updates on the surveillance cameras?”

“Follow me,” she says, leading you to the surveillance monitoring room. The walls are lined with multiple screens, each displaying footage from various cameras across the city.

She points to one of the screens. “Unfortunately, he was only caught on this camera, and it was just for a millisecond.” You lean in closer, studying the footage. The image is fleeting, barely a blur of movement. “Impressive,” you murmur, noting how he managed to evade capture on almost every camera.

Dr. Yoo nods. “We did, however, identify a pattern. The footage indicates he’s frequenting an area known for housing valuable artifacts. We’re cross-referencing his movements with known high-value targets in the vicinity.”

You consider this information, thinking back to his skill and precision during your last encounter. “Good work,” you say. “Let’s focus on that area. Enhance surveillance and see if we can predict his next move.”

Dr. Yoo agrees, already making notes. “We’ll get on it right away. I’ll keep you updated with any new developments.”

As you head home, your mind keeps circling back to the surveillance footage. Dr. Yoo had advised patience, emphasizing the importance of gathering more intel before making a move. But the idea of waiting gnaws at you. The thrill of a direct confrontation, the challenge of outsmarting the Crimson Fox, calls to you with an irresistible pull.

Walking down the path to where you live, you make a snap decision. Doing a full 180, you tap your wristwatch, feeling the familiar hum as your attire shifts into your high-tech suit. Your pencil skirt and blouse are replaced by sleek, reinforced material designed for agility and protection. Without hesitation, you break into a run, heading towards the location where the Crimson Fox was last seen. Your gut tells you that he’s there, and you trust your instincts.

Arriving at the vicinity, you find the area shrouded in darkness. The moon provides the only light, casting an eerie glow on the deserted streets. The blackout could be a coincidence, but you know better. The Crimson Fox is meticulous. This power outage is likely part of his plan to operate undetected.

You proceed cautiously, every sense on high alert. Suddenly, you detect a slight motion behind you. Your training kicks in, and you react swiftly. Spinning around, you catch sight of him just as he reaches out to strike. You grab his hand, using his momentum to flip him over and slam him onto the ground. Your knees pin his arms, your hands securing his neck.

A strained laugh escapes him. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. Missed me?” His voice is mocking, yet there’s a hint of admiration beneath the bravado.

“Does it ever dawn to you how infuriating you are?” you reply, tightening your grip on his neck. “And to answer your question, not particularly—but I do intend to make sure I’m the last thing you’ll remember before you get knocked out.”

His eyes gleam with amusement even as he struggles to breathe. “Confident, aren’t you? Let’s see if you can back it up.”

He reaches for a rock nearby, aiming to strike your head. You react instantly, intercepting his hand and preventing the blow. Using the distraction, he shifts his weight, pushing you off balance. You roll to the side, springing to your feet with practiced ease. He’s up as well, a sly smile on his lips as he brushes himself off.

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that,” he says, circling you warily.

“And you’re annoyingly persistent,” you retort, matching his movements.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s a gift.”

The tension between you is palpable, each of you waiting for the other to make a move. He lunges first, aiming a high kick at your head. You duck and counter with a swift punch to his ribs. He twists away, his foot lashing out to sweep your legs. You jump, landing a kick to his shoulder that sends him staggering back.

“Is that all you can give me, Agent?” he taunts, recovering quickly.

“It wouldn’t be, had you been given a dead or alive bounty hanging over your head,” you reply, your tone ice-cold. You launch into a series of rapid strikes, each one aimed with precision. He blocks most, but you manage to land a few solid hits.

“I think you just don’t want to hurt me,” he whispers in your ear from behind, attempting to strangle you, but you’re quicker than the speed of light to duck down and sweep him off his feet.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’d gladly leave nothing of you but your blood on the floor if you weren’t so important.” You take a step back, an eye twitching over that stupid confident look in his eyes you could see through his mask. The two of you continue to move in a deadly dance, each anticipating the other’s moves with uncanny accuracy.

“You know, you’re making this more fun than I expected,” he admits, dodging a particularly vicious punch.

“Do you ever stop talking? I’m not here for your entertainment,” you snap, delivering a powerful kick that he barely deflects.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, grinning. The fight intensifies, each of you pushing your limits. The Crimson Fox’s strikes are swift and calculated, but you match his every move with precision and strength. In the midst of the clash, he chuckles, his breath coming in short bursts.

“I wasn’t expecting you to strike so soon, honestly,” he admits, dodging a high kick aimed at his head. “Aren’t agents like you supposed to prioritize patience and analysis over rash actions?”

You block his punch and counter with a swift jab to his ribs, your expression stoic. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He laughs, sidestepping your next attack. “A bit touchy, aren’t we? Don’t you think that attitude is a bit unethical for a top secret agent—”

You cut him off with a solid punch to his jaw, the force of the blow snapping his head to the side, and you hear the sound of blood dripping down the ground. You don’t give him a moment to recover, immediately gripping the collar of his suit to bring him close to you. “Project your stereotypes onto me one more time and I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be flossing with your intestines.”

He shakes his head, a wry smile forming on his lips as he straightens up and pushes you off of him. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

You don’t respond, focusing instead on your next move. He feints to the left, and you’re ready, delivering a kick that he barely dodges. He’s finding you more than just a worthy adversary; he’s genuinely intrigued.

“Most people would be intimidated by now,” he remarks, catching your leg and twisting, trying to throw you off balance.

You roll with the motion, using it to your advantage as you flip back to your feet. “Most people aren’t me.”

He chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah?”

The two of you continue your fierce exchange, the night air filled with the sounds of your combat. He’s fast, but you’re faster, your movements fluid and precise. Despite his mocking demeanor, you can see the respect growing in his eyes. The fight between you and the Crimson Fox continues with an intensity that fills the darkened area. You push yourself to dominate, leveraging every skill you’ve honed over the years. He matches you move for move, but you sense a shift—he’s beginning to tire, and you’re gaining the upper hand.

You catch him off guard by grabbing his wrist and twisting it before forcing him to the ground, his amusement only fueling your resolve. With practiced precision, you pin him down, his hands restrained beneath your knee. As you draw a dagger from your suit's concealed pocket, you pull his head back by his hair, and he tilts his head behind with all his strength to look into your eyes.

“You think you’ve got me pinned, don’t you?” he grunts, his voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and frustration. “But this game isn’t over until I say it is.”

“You’re not calling the shots here. I am,” you reply, your voice a steely whisper. The sight of blood seeping from beneath his mask and dripping onto the ground doesn’t faze you.

“You’re just as relentless as they say, aren’t you? Always chasing, never stopping to think,” he continues, trying to get under your skin.

“Save your breath,” you say, pressing down harder. “You’ll need it for when you’re behind bars.”

Just then, the power returns, flooding the area with light. The sudden brightness reveals the surroundings, and you both feel the shift. The Crimson Fox tenses beneath you, his surprise evident. It’s clear he didn’t see this coming, either. Realizing the cameras could be operational and your cover could be blown, you act quickly. You release him and leap to your feet, and he does the same.

“This isn’t over,” you state, your voice low and stoic, eyes filled with a fiery gaze.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sure hope it isn’t.” With that, he melds into the shadows, disappearing down a different route.

You waste no time in escaping the now well-lit area, aware of the surveillance cameras and the implications of being seen. These cameras are not just ordinary security measures; they are infiltrated by your organization, and it wouldn’t be a bad thing in different circumstances, but the catch is that you’re not supposed to be going off to do your duties without informing the director board beforehand. If they catch wind of this unsanctioned operation, there would be serious repercussions.

As you make your way back, your thoughts churn. The Crimson Fox might be right—this was a rash decision. You acted on instinct, driven by the desire to catch him before he could commit another theft. But it’s definitely not a regrettable one. You learned a lot from this encounter: his fighting style, his resilience, and most importantly, that even he can be taken by surprise.

—

You wake up at dawn, the room still shrouded in darkness. A persistent beeping pulls you from sleep. Groggily, you reach for your phone, thinking you set your work alarm too early. It takes a moment before you realize the sound is not coming from your phone but from your wristwatch. You tap it, and a holographic screen flickers to life, displaying Director Han. Her expression is anything but pleasant. She looks mad, even.

“Agent,” she says curtly, “report to headquarters immediately. There are important matters we need to discuss.” Your stomach drops.

They know about last night.

You get up from your bed, a mix of dread and defiance coursing through you. You acted without orders, but you gained valuable information and prevented a theft. Surely, that counts for something.

With a sigh, you begin your morning routine far earlier than intended. You wash your face, take a shower, brush your teeth, and change into your professional attire. For today, you chose to wear a crimson red dress shirt along with a knee-length black pencil skirt, pairing it with black stockings and heels of the same color. Once you’re fully prepared, you make your way to headquarters, the early morning chill biting at your skin.

Upon arrival, a fellow agent greets you, informing you that the director board is waiting in the meeting room. The director board? You expected only Director Han. This is bigger than you thought.

You enter the room, and the atmosphere is tense. The directors look unhappy, their eyes fixed on you. Clearing your throat, you decide to cut straight to the point. “What’s the matter?”

Director Kang taps a button at the center of the table, projecting a holographic screen that shows a millisecond of footage—of you, running away, caught by the surveillance camera where you fought the Crimson Fox.

“What’s this?” Director Kang asks, though his tone implies he already knows the answer.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Director Liu joins in, her voice cold. “Do you not understand the gravity of your actions? What you did was a blatant violation of protocol. I believe you aren’t aware of the gravity of your actions.”

You suppress a groan. Seriously?

“Then enlighten me, Director,” you deadpan, maintaining a stoic facade despite your sarcasm.

Director Kang leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Our handbook clearly states in Section 4, Paragraph 12, that ‘agents must obtain explicit authorization from a superior before engaging in field operations.’ You acted independently, without orders.”

Director Liu chimes in, “This isn’t just a minor infraction. It’s a severe breach of our protocol. You compromised the integrity of our operations.”

Director Han adds, “Following the chain of command ensures that all actions are coordinated and that risks are minimized. By going rogue, you jeopardized not just the mission, but also your safety and the safety of others.”

You know respect is vital in your line of work, but you also know you need to stand up for yourself when faced with unjust criticism. Keeping your tone professional yet harsh, you defend your actions. “Forgive me if I appear hostile,” you state, trying to keep your voice even, “but I don’t see the problem at all. If I hadn’t acted, the Crimson Fox would have another artifact within his grasp right now.”

Director Han’s eyes narrow. “It’s not about the result, Agent. It’s about the process. You broke the rules, and that cannot be tolerated.”

“I followed my instincts because time was of the essence. The Crimson Fox is a highly skilled thief. Every second counts when dealing with him. Waiting for orders could have cost us the artifact.”

Director Liu shakes her head. “This isn’t about instincts. It’s about discipline and order. We have protocols for a reason.”

“And you have agents for a reason. What did those protocols achieve last night, exactly?” you retort. “A near loss of a valuable artifact. My actions, though unorthodox, were effective. I stopped him. I gained information. Is that not what we’re here to do?”

Director Kang leans forward, his expression stern. “This is not a debate, Agent. You acted outside your authority, and that’s unacceptable.”

You meet his gaze without flinching. “What’s unacceptable is prioritizing rules over results. We’re here to protect and to prevent crime. I did exactly that. If that means bending the rules to catch a thief, then so be it.” The room falls silent, tension hanging thick in the air. You can see their frustration, but you also see a hint of grudging respect. They may not admit it, but they know you have a point.

Director Han finally speaks, her tone measured. “We understand your perspective, but there will be consequences for your actions. We cannot have agents acting on their own accord.”

You nod, accepting the inevitable. “Understood, Director. But I stand by what I did. And given the chance, I’d do it again.”

Leaving the meeting room, you feel a mix of relief and lingering defiance. Maybe the Crimson Fox was right—this was a rash decision. But it’s definitely not a regrettable one. You acted on instinct, you took a risk, and it paid off. You prevented a theft and gained insight into your elusive adversary. Still, you can’t help but be clouded with frustration over their words. Why were they so defensive about wanting you to act only when they tell you to, and not on your own accord? The whole situation felt stifling, and it gnawed at you. Starting off your day on a bad note was definitely not the way to go; you didn’t want to carry more stress with you.

Deciding to clear your head, you leave the headquarters and head to the library. There are still a few hours left before you have to open it, but you figured you’d find a way to ease yourself there. The familiar scent of books and the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the place always had a calming effect on you. Once you reach the library and head inside, you place your bag on the desk of your registrar and head through the aisles to see if there were any books you could read to pass the time. The rows of neatly shelved books stand as a comforting reminder of the worlds and stories they hold within.

You settle on a fantasy book titled “Pirate King,” its cover adorned with a design that promises you an escape from reality. Heading back to the registrar, you sit down and begin reading. The words transport you to a different world, a place where your current frustrations seem distant and insignificant.

Eight pages in, your earlier wake-up call catches up to you, and you feel sleepiness creeping back. After all, you weren’t supposed to start your day so early. The “meeting” felt like a colossal waste of time, and the exhaustion tugs at your eyelids. Deciding to close the book, you then place it gently on the desk. You retrieve your phone from your bag and set an alarm for 8 am.

Once it’s done, you lay your head down on the table, resting on your arms. The hard surface of the desk is surprisingly comforting as you let the warmth of your own body lull you into a sense of security.

As sleep begins to consume you, the last thoughts in your mind are of the day’s tasks ahead. But for now, in this small moment of peace, you allow yourself to drift off, letting go of the morning’s stress and the frustration that came with it before the day truly begins.

The alarm beeps two hours later, and you wake up instantly, reaching for the hand mirror in the drawer to check your appearance. Satisfied that you still look presentable, you get up and walk to the door, flipping the “Closed” sign to “Open” before returning to the registrar. You begin your work, and although you feel a bit lighter, the frustration from the morning lingers.

You don’t realize how consumed you are by your thoughts until the door chime signals your first customer. Quickly, you wipe the frustration from your face, replacing it with a warm smile. “Good morning, how can I help you today?”

The patron asks for help finding a specific book, and you guide them to the correct aisle, making small talk along the way. Once they’re settled, you return to your desk and dive back into your tasks, trying to use work as a distraction. Cataloging returns, reshelving books, assisting more patrons—it all helps keep your mind off the morning’s events, but the underlying frustration still simmers.

Hours pass, and it’s now near evening. The library’s peaceful atmosphere helps somewhat, but the lingering tension remains. As you sort through a stack of books to be shelved, your thoughts drift to Wooyoung. His energy and playful demeanor always have a way of lifting your spirits, so you wonder why he hasn’t shown up today, of all days when you could really use one of his random questions or amusing anecdotes.

You pause, staring at the book in your hand without really seeing it. Wooyoung’s absence feels more pronounced today, amplifying the frustration you've been trying to suppress. His visits, though often unexpected, have become a part of your routine that you look forward to. His knack for starting light-hearted conversations could have been the perfect remedy for your current mood. With a sigh, you shelve the book and move on to the next one, trying to shake off the melancholy thoughts.

Before closing the library during the after-hours of your job and heading out, you decide to bring the fantasy book you started earlier, Pirate King, with you. Though you only managed to read eight pages before sleep consumed you entirely, the story had already hooked you, and you were eager to continue. A good book was precisely what you needed to escape the stress that had been weighing you down.

Instead of heading straight home, you decide to visit a nearby river—a place you’ve been meaning to explore for a while. Work and missions always seemed to get in the way, but today, with no missions assigned (likely part of the directors’ “punishment” for your unauthorized actions last night), you finally have the opportunity.

Upon reaching the river, you find a serene spot with a bench overlooking the water. The gentle sounds of the flowing river and the rustling leaves create a calming atmosphere. You sit down, placing your bag beside you, and pull out Pirate King. As you open the book and start reading, the world around you fades, and you let yourself get lost in the story of Captain Arahn and his crew’s daring quest for the “Endless Aurora.” The stress from earlier begins to melt away with each turn of the page. The vivid descriptions of pirate adventures and the protagonist’s daring exploits transport you to another world, providing a much-needed escape from the frustrations of reality. The tranquility of the river combined with the captivating narrative of Pirate King helps you unwind. You savor the moments of peace, knowing that they are rare in your line of work.

While you’re getting engrossed in a specific part of the story where the Captain Ahran’s crew, the Black Phoenix, encounters the mysterious Sea Witch who holds a key to the “Endless Aurora,” a familiar voice speaks up from behind the bench.

“Pirate King, huh?”

Before you even turn your head, a small smile forms on your face—you know exactly who it is.

“Hey, Wooyoung,” you greet him, moving your bag to the other side of the bench and patting the now free spot beside you. He’s more than happy to oblige, his face lighting up with that characteristic, endearing enthusiasm. You close the book and place it on your lap, turning your attention to him. However, you immediately notice a bandage stapled over the side of his mouth. He catches your expression and waves you off nonchalantly before you could bring it up.

“Oh, this? Just a little accident while helping my uncle with some construction work. Nothing to worry about, really,” he says with a grin that suggests he’s more proud of the minor injury than concerned.

You don’t pry further. “So, you know Pirate King?” you ask instead, and he enthusiastically nods his head.

“Yeah! That one’s actually one of the very first books I read when I first started visiting the library, back when you weren’t working there yet,” he explains, a fond expression on his face.

You pick up the book from your lap, examining it—it does look pretty worn. “It’s one of the old books, huh? Makes sense.” You hum, placing it back on your lap. “Do you have a thing for fantasy books?” you tilt your head, waiting for his answer. He smiles and nods, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He then reveals that he actually read that book here when he was just a kid and that since then, he’s always imagined what his life would be like if he were a fantasy character.

“What did you want to be back then?” you push further, genuinely curious.

He leans back, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Just like the characters, I’ve always wanted to be a pirate, going on adventures, sailing the seas, hunting for treasures,” he shares with enthusiasm.

You chuckle, imagining a young Wooyoung running around, pretending to be a pirate. “What was your ‘fantasy name’?” you ask.

His eyes gleam with excitement as he responds. “Captain Stormbreaker! I imagined myself as this legendary pirate, feared and respected across all the seas. My ship was called the Tempest’s Fury, and my crew was the best there ever was. We’d find hidden treasures, outsmart rival pirates, and face mythical sea monsters.”

You laugh, enjoying the vivid picture he paints. “Captain Stormbreaker, huh? That sounds pretty impressive. Did you have a backstory for him?”

Wooyoung nods eagerly. “Of course! Captain Stormbreaker was an orphan raised by a secret society of sailors who taught him everything about the sea and combat. He swore to protect the oceans from those who sought to exploit them and to uncover the secrets of the world’s greatest treasures. Every adventure was a step closer to finding his true destiny.”

You smile, feeling your stress melt away as you listen to his animated storytelling. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a wide grin. “It was my favorite daydream growing up. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll find a way to make it a reality, even if it’s just in spirit.”

You nod, touched by his infectious enthusiasm. “Well, Captain Stormbreaker, I’m honored to be in your presence. Maybe one day, you’ll have to take me on one of your adventures.”

He laughs, a twinkle in his eye. “Deal. And who knows, maybe you have a hidden pirate persona too?”

You chuckle, the idea intriguing you. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

He pursues the idea, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Now that we’re at it, have you ever thought of having a pirate persona or a fantasy persona in general?”

You smile, touched by his boundless imagination. He seems like such a free spirit, and there’s a sense of freedom within him that you can’t help but admire. “I’ve never really thought of it,” you say with a shrug, playing along. “But now that you mention it, I’m quite curious—what persona would you construct for me, if given the chance?”

Wooyoung’s face lights up with excitement. “Oh, that’s easy! You’d be the enigmatic ‘Captain Shadowstrike’—a master strategist and fearless leader, known for your sharp wit and unparalleled combat skills. Your ship would be called the Nightfall, a sleek, fast vessel designed for stealth and precision.”

You laugh softly, the name and description fitting surprisingly well. “Captain Shadowstrike, huh? I like the sound of that. Tell me more.” You tuck a couple strands of your hair behind your ear when the evening breeze hits your face, waiting for his answer.

He puts his index finger on his chin, fully immersed in his tale. “Captain Shadowstrike was once part of a royal navy but turned rogue after discovering corruption within the ranks. You’d use your insider knowledge to stay one step ahead of both the law and rival pirates. Your crew would be a mix of skilled outcasts, each with their own unique talents, fiercely loyal to you.”

“And what would be my mission?” You lean forward, placing your palm flat down on the cold surface of the wooden bench, genuinely curious now.

“To uncover the lost city of Seloria,” Wooyoung says without hesitation. “Legend has it that Seloria holds treasures beyond imagination and secrets that could change the world. But it’s also guarded by ancient traps and mythical creatures, making it the ultimate challenge for any pirate.”

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by the depth of his story. “Sounds like quite an adventure. And what about you? Would Captain Stormbreaker and Captain Shadowstrike be allies or rivals?”

He grins, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “Definitely allies. We’d join forces to take on the biggest challenges and split the treasures. Imagine the legends that would be told about our exploits!”

You nod, feeling a sense of a new depth within your connection with Wooyoung brimming. “Well, Captain Stormbreaker, it looks like we make a formidable team.”

Wooyoung’s smile is infectious. “Two pirates teaming up to cause havoc catered to their own liking, call that Bonnie and Clyde in a different universe.”

He then shifts the conversation once both your laughters die down, a question that’s been on his mind for the past few minutes now surfacing. “What brings you here, anyway?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

You let out a soft sigh, looking towards the river, where the moon’s dim light shone in its reflection. “Today didn’t exactly go well.” You shrug, pursing your lips.

A look of concern flashes in his eyes, but he tries to lighten the mood. “Probably a good idea I didn’t stop by the library today then. I might’ve made your day worse with my endless nagging.”

Although you know he’s joking, you shake your head and look him in the eyes. “I was waiting for you to show up, actually.”

He blinks, momentarily taken aback. “Really? You were?”

You nod, feeling a bit vulnerable but honest. “Yeah. Your energy is contagious. It would have been nice to have a distraction from everything that happened.”

Wooyoung’s expression softens, and he leans back on the bench, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I’m glad I ran into you here, then. If I can help distract you from a bad day, that’s the least I can do.”

You smile at his sincerity. “You always seem to lift my spirits, Wooyoung—and oftentimes, you’re blissfully unaware of it. It’s one of your many talents.”

He grins, his usual playful demeanor returning. “Well, if cheering you up means talking about pirate adventures and imagining ourselves as legendary captains, then I’m more than happy to oblige.” You both laugh, and the conversation flows naturally, easing the tension of the day.

You look at the book in your lap again and ask, “Do you have any favorite character from Pirate King in particular?”

Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking to the book and then back to you. “I do, but I might drop a few spoiler bombs here and there. Are you sure you want to hear about it?” He asks, looking a bit sheepish.

You wave him off with a smile. “I don’t mind at all. I’d be more than happy to listen to you. Go ahead.”

Relieved, Wooyoung’s eyes light up, and he shifts excitedly on the bench. “Well, my favorite is definitely Captain Arahn! He’s the best character in the entire series for me,” he says, enthusiasm bubbling over. “I mean, first off, he’s the youngest captain to ever sail the seas, and he’s got this whole rebellious yet noble vibe going on. He’s incredibly smart and always a step ahead of his enemies, which is just so cool. There was this part where he outsmarted the entire Navy fleet with just a handful of his crew, and it was so epic!”

He continues, gesturing animatedly. “And his backstory! It’s so tragic yet inspiring. Losing his family at a young age and then rising from nothing to become the most feared and respected pirate captain—it’s just so compelling. Plus, his relationship with his crew is amazing. He’s not just their leader; he’s their friend and confidant. The way he treats everyone with respect and values their opinions, it’s no wonder they’re so loyal to him.”

You can’t help but smile as Wooyoung geeks out, his passion infectious. “And don’t get me started on his combat skills! He’s not just a brilliant strategist but also a formidable fighter. He had a duel with an Admiral named Valen, and it was one of the most intense scenes ever. His dual-wielding technique is so unique, and the way he incorporates acrobatics into his fighting style is just... wow.”

Wooyoung pauses for breath, his eyes sparkling. “And then there’s his softer side, the way he cares for the less fortunate and always fights for justice, even though he’s labeled an outlaw. That one scene where he saves the village from the corrupt governor really shows his true character. He’s the perfect mix of tough and tender, which makes him so relatable and admirable.”

You find yourself in a trance, a fond expression on your face as you listen to him with full attention. Wooyoung’s words flow endlessly, painting a vivid picture of Captain Arahn and why he resonates so deeply with him. His excitement is palpable, and you can see how much this character means to him.

“And the symbolism!” Wooyoung continues, his voice lowering a bit as he leans closer. “Captain Arahn’s ship, The Phoenix, represents rebirth and resilience. Every time it seems like they’re done for, they rise from the ashes stronger than before. It’s such a powerful metaphor for his life and his journey. And those moments of introspection he has while staring out at the sea, questioning his decisions and pondering his future—those are some of my favorite parts. They add so much depth to his character.”

He finally stops, a little out of breath, and looks at you with a wide smile. “Sorry, I get carried away when I talk about Pirate King. It’s just such an incredible story.”

You shake your head, your smile warm and genuine. “No, no. There’s nothing to apologize for. I love hearing you talk about it. Your passion is infectious, and it’s clear how much Captain Arahn means to you. It’s nice.”

Wooyoung beams, looking pleased and slightly bashful. “Thanks. I’m glad I could share it with you.”

As the night progresses, you find yourself lost in conversation with Wooyoung, his infectious energy gradually lifting the weight off your shoulders. It isn’t until he pauses, a wide smile on his face as you laugh, that you realize how much better you feel.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask, reaching for the small mirror in your bag. Before you can open it, Wooyoung gently grabs your wrist, shaking his head.

“No, it’s just... happiness looks good on you.”

His words catch you off guard, sending a warm, unexpected surge through your veins somewhere deep in the confines of your soul. Speechless, you don’t trust your words enough to speak for you, so respond with a genuine smile, which he mirrors with delight. Maybe Pirate King will become your go-to read from now on—not just for the tough days, but for the good ones, too.

—

You find yourself seated in the austere meeting room once again, facing the stern visages of the director board. They’ve called an urgent meeting to discuss the latest developments regarding the Crimson Fox. Apparently, they’ve managed to gather some critical intel: his next target is known. The artifact in question is an ancient, seemingly mundane item—an old, weathered compass without any apparent monetary value. Yet, the directors treat it as if it's the most crucial object in existence.

As Director Kang finishes outlining the basic details, confusion stirs within you. Two questions loom large: Why would the Crimson Fox target such an unremarkable artifact? And why does the director board seem far more driven to stop him this time compared to other, more valuable heists?

Unable to contain your curiosity, you speak up. “Do we have any information on why the Crimson Fox has chosen this particular artifact as his next target?”

Director Han meets your gaze but offers no satisfying answer. “We don’t have any specific details on his motives,” she says curtly, avoiding your eyes.

You frown, sensing there’s more to this than they’re letting on. “And why is this artifact so important to us? It seems to be treated with an unusual amount of importance compared to previous discussions about highly valuable items.”

The room falls silent, tension palpable in the air. Director Kang clears his throat and begins his explanation. “This compass,” he starts, holding up an image of the artifact on the holographic display, “is no ordinary navigational tool. It dates back to the early 15th century and is believed to have belonged to Admiral Zheng He, the famous Chinese explorer. While its monetary value might seem insignificant compared to other artifacts we’ve dealt with, its historical and strategic importance cannot be overstated.”

He taps the display, and a series of documents and old maps appear. “The compass was reputedly used during Zheng He’s voyages across the Indian Ocean and as far as the east coast of Africa. More importantly, it's said to be imbued with magnetic properties unlike any modern compass. These unique properties have puzzled historians and scientists alike, as they hint at a potentially advanced understanding of geomagnetism long before it was formally studied.”

He continues, “The compass itself doesn’t just represent historical significance; it’s believed to contain a map—hidden within its construction—that leads to one of Zheng He’s lost treasure fleets. If this map is real and falls into the wrong hands, it could lead to untold wealth and power. The geopolitical ramifications alone are enormous, and we're running out of time.”

Director Liu interjects, her tone serious. “We have reason to believe that the Crimson Fox has discovered this secret. His previous heists—seemingly random—were actually part of a pattern leading him to this very compass. He’s pieced together enough of the puzzle to make this his next target.”

Their explanations raise more questions than it answers, but you decide to press on. “But why the urgency? You’re saying time is running out—what exactly do you mean by that?”

Director Kang’s gaze sharpens, his tone growing more insistent. “The Crimson Fox is planning to strike tonight. We’ve intercepted enough chatter to know his timeline. This is why we need to act quickly. The organization will provide you with backup for this mission.”

You blink, taken aback. “Backup? Why now, of all times? Why do you think I need assistance?”

Director Han interjects with a vague, non-committal answer. “It’s to ensure your safety. The stakes are higher with this artifact, and we can’t afford to let him succeed.”

Their responses only deepen your skepticism, but you sense that pushing for more information would be futile. Leaning back in your seat, you decide to give them the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. “Alright, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Director Kang leans forward, his fingers steepled. “We have a detailed strategy in place. You will be the lead operative, with Agents Kim and Park as your immediate support. The warehouse where the compass is held has been fortified, and we’ve coordinated with local law enforcement to set up a perimeter. Your task is to intercept and apprehend the Crimson Fox before he can escape with the artifact.”

Director Liu adds, “We’ve also placed discreet surveillance around the area. Our tech team will be monitoring the feeds and providing real-time updates. We need you to stay sharp and rely on your instincts. This is a critical mission, and failure is not an option.”

You nod, absorbing the information. The pressure is palpable, but you steel yourself for the task ahead. “Understood. I’ll be ready.”

The directors give their final instructions, and you leave the meeting room, your mind still clouded with frustration and doubt. Why is this compass so important? What aren’t they telling you? As you head out of the headquarters, you decide to put these questions aside for now. There’s a mission to prepare for, and you need to be at your best.

Looking at how important this compass seems to be for the director board, you spend the next few hours in the headquarters’ high-tech training room, ensuring you’ll be at your best later. The room is equipped with state-of-the-art equipment designed to push agents to their limits.

You start with a series of warm-up exercises, focusing on flexibility and agility. Dynamic stretches ease the tension in your muscles, followed by a few rounds of shadowboxing to get your blood pumping. Moving on to the obstacle course, you navigate through various challenges designed to test your speed, coordination, and problem-solving skills. Each segment mimics potential real-world scenarios: crawling under laser grids, scaling walls, and maneuvering through a maze filled with holographic enemies that simulate combat situations. Next, you head to the combat simulator. The room transforms, projecting a virtual environment around you. You engage in hand-to-hand combat with AI opponents, each programmed with different fighting styles. Sweat drips down your forehead as you dodge, block, and strike, honing your reflexes and precision.

After the intense session, you shift to the firing range. You pick up a variety of weapons, from standard issue pistols to more specialized firearms, practicing your aim and control. Each target is a representation of a potential threat, some stationary and others moving unpredictably. You focus on accuracy and speed, each shot echoing through the room. Finally, you conclude with a cooldown routine. Gentle stretches and controlled breathing help your body recover, ensuring you’re in peak condition for the mission ahead. Satisfied with your preparations, you decide to call it a day and head to the headquarters’ lounge to take a breather.

In the lounge, you throw your head back, hanging it off the couch while closing your eyes. Just then, you feel the spot beside you sink down, and your eyes shoot open, only to see a fellow agent of yours sitting down while drinking a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Yeosang,” you straighten up in your seat, greeting him. The said man looks up from his newspaper, putting the coffee down on the lounge table as he turns to you, greeting you with a small smile on his face.

Kang Yeosang was the only fellow agent of yours you were close with—your bond forming one night two years ago when you had to be his personal assistant when he was new to ins and outs of being a secret agent. Long ago, you kept a promise to yourself not to let yourself warm up to any agents in this organization because you never know when you’ll lose them, and you don’t have it in you to suffer with grief countless times. But as soon as you felt an energy of warmth and naivety radiating from Yeosang as if he was someone who would not find a problem with letting people walk all over him as long as it benefited them—somehow, you made it a personal mission to keep him under your watch and teach him to be as strong as possible. You know how cruel this workspace and this world in general is, and you don’t want him to be harmed by that.

“Heard they were sending backup with you for your mission later,” he muses, and you immediately groan softly in response.

“Don’t remind me. It would’ve been better if you were one of the agents they assigned to accompany me—or if they hadn’t decided to send backup my way at all,” you slump your shoulders. It’s not that you don’t want to work with others, but you have a tendency of being hard-headed and reckless when you’re on the scene, and you know you’ll hardly be able to protect anyone that comes along with you for the danger you attract. It’s not that you hate your fellow agents—you just don’t want to drag them into the different level of danger you’re standing in compared to them.

“I still don’t get why they refuse to assign us to missions together.” He sighs, leaning back on the couch. “You tell me,” you deadpan, shrugging.

“How’s the cat-and-mouse game with the Crimson Fox going, anyway?” he turns to you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

You then tell him all about it. Ever since you were able to train him to his finest shape, the director board transferred him to a different department, so you haven’t been able to hang out as much. Agents were also strictly forbidden to spend time together outside of their jobs—which you think is a very weird rule—so you always make sure to make the most out of moments like this with Yeosang.

“It’s been... complicated,” you admit. “The Crimson Fox is slippery, always a step ahead. But it appears we finally have a solid lead on his next target,” you cut your words off momentarily to lean closer, whispering in his ear, “the board’s acting a little shady about it, though.”

Yeosang listens intently as you describe the old compass and the board’s intense focus on it. “That does sound strange,” he agrees. “Why would they be so concerned about a seemingly worthless artifact?”

You shake your head. “That’s the mystery. There’s something about this compass they’re not telling me. It feels like there’s a bigger picture I’m missing.”

Yeosang frowns, deep in thought. “Be careful out there. If they’re sending backup, it means they’re expecting something significant.”

You nod, appreciating his concern. “I will. Thanks, Yeosang. I’ll try to keep you updated, even if it’s just through official channels.”

Just then, the speakers installed throughout the headquarters ring, and Director Han’s voice booms through them. “Agent Sylvil. Your presence is needed in the meeting room immediately.”

Sighing, you turn to Yeosang, lips pursed. “Well, I guess it’s time.”

He pats your shoulder, giving you an encouraging smile. “Take care out there. You’ve got this.” You ruffle his hair in response, standing up and heading straight to the meeting room. As you enter, you find many of your fellow agents already gathered, armed and ready. A dozen of them, each one looking determined and focused.

Director Han steps forward and begins to speak, her voice firm and authoritative. “Agents, tonight’s mission is critical. The Crimson Fox’s target is the ancient compass, and we cannot allow him to acquire it. Here’s the plan: We will deploy in two teams. Team Utopia, led by Agent Kim, will secure the perimeter and establish surveillance points. Team Aurora, led by Agent Park, will be the primary assault force and will engage the Crimson Fox directly if necessary.”

She pauses, looking around the room to ensure everyone is following. “Our mode of transport for this mission will be motorcycles. This will allow for quick maneuverability and a fast response time. Each team will have a designated route to the target location. Stay in constant communication and be prepared for anything.”

Director Han then turns to you. “Agent, your role is crucial. You’ll be providing overwatch and will have the autonomy to move as you see fit. We trust your judgment to intervene at the right moment. Remember, the goal is to secure the artifact and, if possible, capture the Crimson Fox. Any questions?”

No one speaks up, the air thick with anticipation. “Alright then. Gear up and move out.”

You and the other agents head to the garage, where sleek black motorcycles await. You mount your bike, choosing to stay behind the others to keep an eye on them. The engines roar to life, and soon, you’re speeding through the city streets, the wind whipping past you. The ride is swift, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you approach the target location. Upon arrival, you quietly separate yourself from the other agents without them noticing, slipping into the shadows to position yourself strategically.

The moonlight casts eerie shadows over the old, abandoned warehouse where the ancient compass is hidden. The 12 agents form a perimeter, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of the Crimson Fox. The night is still, the only sound being the distant hum of the city.

Suddenly, a figure drops from the rafters with feline grace, landing silently in the middle of the room. The Crimson Fox straightens up, his lips curling into a mocking smile. His eyes glint with amusement as he takes in the sight of the armed agents surrounding him.

“Oh, wow,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “An entire squad just for little old me? I’m flattered.” He pauses, his gaze flicking around the room. “But where’s my favorite nemesis? Why didn’t they send her alone instead? Surely that would be more worth my time.”

The agents glance around, noticing your absence. Their in-ear monitors beep, and your voice comes through. “I’ll be in the shadows to strike when he least expects it. Keep your guard up at all times—this is no ordinary thief you’re facing.”

The Crimson Fox notices the change in their demeanor, even without seeing the monitors. A wicked smile spreads across his face. “So she’s here, huh? Good. This should be interesting.”

The agents tighten their grips on their weapons, readying themselves for the confrontation. You remain hidden, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The tension in the air is palpable, the night shrouded in a veil of impending conflict. Agent Kim, leading Team Utopia, steps forward. “Give up. There’s no way out of this.”

The Crimson Fox laughs, a low, menacing sound. “Oh, I think I’ll manage.” With a sudden burst of speed, he darts forward, his movements a blur. He disarms Agent Park with a swift kick, sending his weapon skittering across the floor.

“Aurora, tighten formation.” you command, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Utopia, flank him from the sides.” The agents move quickly, trying to encircle the Crimson Fox, but he is relentless. He spins, his fists and feet striking out with deadly precision. One agent goes down, then another, each one taken out with frightening efficiency.

“Is this the best you can do?” he taunts, delivering a spinning back kick to Agent Park’s midsection, sending him sprawling. “Don’t disappoint me now.”

“Aurora, regroup near the crates,” you order, directing them to a safer position. "Utopia, he’s heading your way.”

“Got it!” Agent Kim responds, signaling his team to reposition. They move swiftly, trying to outmaneuver the Crimson Fox. The fight is chaotic, the agents struggling to keep up with the Crimson Fox’s lightning-fast attacks. He seems to be everywhere at once, his movements a blur of dark red and black. He taunts them mercilessly, his voice a constant stream of mocking comments.

“Come on, you can do better than this!” he jeers, dodging a punch and retaliating with a swift elbow to the jaw. “Where’s your spirit, your drive? Did you leave it at home?”

You watch the scene unfold, your mind racing. “Agent Kim, he’s heading for the northwest corner. Cut him off.”

“On it!” Agent Kim replies, his team sprinting to intercept the Crimson Fox. The agents close in, their determination unwavering despite the odds. The Crimson Fox, however, remains one step ahead. He leaps onto a stack of crates, using the high ground to his advantage. From his elevated position, he delivers a powerful kick, sending another agent flying.

“Are you watching this?” he calls out to you, his voice dripping with derision. “Is this really the best your precious organization can offer?”

Your hands tighten into fists. “Utopia, distract him from the front. Aurora, prepare to flank.” The agents execute your orders, Aurora engaging the Crimson Fox head-on while Utopia moves to surround him. The fight intensifies, punches and kicks flying in every direction. The Crimson Fox parries each attack with ease, his movements fluid and precise.

“Nice try,” he sneers, catching Agent Park's arm and twisting it painfully. “But you’ll need more than that to catch me.”

Agent Park lunges forward, attempting to tackle the Crimson Fox, but he sidesteps smoothly, delivering a knee to his stomach. “Too slow!” he laughs, throwing him aside.

“Utopia, hit him from the left,” you instruct, your eyes never leaving the Crimson Fox. The agents comply, but the Crimson Fox anticipates their move. He ducks low, sweeping his leg out and knocking two agents off their feet. “Predictable,” he mutters, his gaze flicking upwards. “Come on, Agent. I know you’re out there.”

You grit your teeth, knowing you have to stay hidden for now. “Aurora, push him towards the back wall. Utopia, be ready to cut him off.” The agents press forward, forcing the Crimson Fox to retreat towards the back of the warehouse. He glances around, a calculating look in his eyes. “Interesting strategy,” he muses, blocking a punch from Agent Kim and countering with a sharp elbow to the ribs. “But it won’t work.”

Agent Kim regains his footing, charging at the Crimson Fox. “We’ve got you now!”

The Crimson Fox smirks, catching his arm and flipping him over his shoulder with effortless strength. “Do you, though?” He looks directly into the shadows where you're hidden. "I know you're waiting for the right moment, Agent. But how many more of your friends will fall before you act?"

Your heart races, knowing he’s trying to provoke you. “Hold your positions,” you instruct the agents. “He’s trying to bait us.”

Agent Kim narrows his eyes, his breathing heavy but determined. “We won’t let you win, Crimson Fox.”

The Crimson Fox chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, I already have.” He moves with blinding speed, taking down another agent with a swift combination of strikes. “And you know it.”

The fight continues, the agents growing weary but refusing to back down. The Crimson Fox remains relentless, his taunts never ceasing. “You should have stayed home,” he sneers, delivering a powerful kick to Agent Park’s chest. “This was a losing battle from the start.”

You watch, frustration boiling within you. “Aurora, fall back to the east side. Utopia, cover them.” The agents regroup, their resolve unwavering despite their injuries. They reposition, trying to find an opening, but the Crimson Fox’s defenses are impenetrable.

“Why do you fight for them?” he questions, his voice a mocking whisper as he catches Agent Kim's fist and twists it painfully. “Do you really believe in their cause?”

Agent Kim grits his teeth, refusing to yield. “We fight for justice.”

The Crimson Fox laughs, a cold, hollow sound. “Justice? How quaint.” He releases Kim with a shove, turning his attention to the others. “You are all pawns in a game you have yet to know of.”

You take a deep breath, your eyes locked onto the Crimson Fox, who is circling the agents like a predator. His confidence is palpable, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveys the scene. “What’s the plan, Agent? Are you going to save them at the last minute?”

You remain silent, watching from your vantage point on the ceiling, waiting for the perfect opportunity. The Crimson Fox’s eyes narrow, sensing the tension in the air. “Well? I'm waiting.”

The agents spring into action at your signal, converging on the Crimson Fox from all sides. He meets them head-on, his movements a blur of calculated strikes and swift dodges. Agent Park’s lunges first, aiming for a disabling blow, but the Crimson Fox sidesteps effortlessly, delivering a crushing elbow to his ribs. He crumples to the ground, gasping for breath.

“These are the agents that are supposed to take me down?” the Crimson Fox taunts, his voice dripping with disdain.

Agent Kim tries to catch him off guard with a low sweep, but the Crimson Fox leaps over her leg, landing a brutal kick to his shoulder that sends him sprawling. He doesn’t give him a chance to recover, following up with a series of rapid punches that leave him dazed and bleeding.

“Stay together,” you command through the comms, your voice tense. “Don’t let him isolate you.”

The agents regroup, their faces set with determination despite their injuries. They attempt a coordinated attack, moving in unison to trap the Crimson Fox, but he’s always one step ahead. He disarms Agent Park with a quick twist of his wrist, then slams him into a nearby wall with a force that leaves cracks in the concrete.

“Pathetic,” the Crimson Fox sneers, glancing around at the fallen agents. “You should have brought more.”

Agent Park, struggling to his feet, charges again. The Crimson Fox catches his fist mid-swing, twisting his arm behind his back and slamming him to the ground. He doesn’t get up this time.

“When’s your leader planning on coming out?" the Crimson Fox calls out, his voice echoing through the warehouse. “Or does she want to just stay in the shadows and let you all crumble?”

You watch helplessly as Agent after Agent falls. The Crimson Fox’s taunts grow more vicious, each victory fueling his arrogance. “This is almost too easy. Do you really think you can stop me?”

Agent Kim manages to land a glancing blow to his jaw, but the Crimson Fox’s retaliatory strike is swift and punishing. He grabs him by the collar and throws him into a stack of crates, the impact knocking him unconscious.

“Aurora, pull back—” you instruct, but it's too late. The Crimson Fox is relentless, cutting down the agents with brutal efficiency. His movements are a deadly dance, each strike perfectly timed and devastatingly effective.

“Come on, Agent,” he mocks, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. “Are you just going to let them die?”

Agent Park makes one last desperate attempt, but the Crimson Fox sidesteps, delivering a bone-crushing kick to his knee. He collapses with a cry of pain, clutching his leg.

The warehouse falls silent except for the labored breathing of the wounded. The Crimson Fox stands amid the fallen agents, his chest heaving from exertion but his confidence unshaken. “Is that it?”

You feel a surge of anger and frustration. The agents lie scattered around the warehouse, unconscious and severely wounded. The Crimson Fox’s eyes scan the room, searching for you.

“I know you’re here,” he says, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

You wait for the perfect moment, then launch yourself from your hiding spot on the ceiling, tackling him from behind. Your kick sends him nearly falling to the ground, but he manages to steady himself just in time.

“Finally decided to join the party, did you?” he taunts, turning to face you, a gleam of surprise and annoyance in his eyes.

You don’t respond, keeping your focus solely on him. The weight of the fallen agents presses on you, fueling your determination. “This ends now,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The Crimson Fox laughs, a cold, mocking sound. “I don’t think so.”

The fight begins in earnest. You lunge at the Crimson Fox, your movements precise and calculated. You strike first, landing a solid hit on his jaw. He stumbles back, surprised by your speed and strength.

“Can’t you do any better?” you taunt, pressing your advantage.

The Crimson Fox regains his footing, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “You think you’re special because you knocked me back a bit?” he sneers. “Your friends didn’t fare so well.”

Ignoring his taunts, you unleash a flurry of punches and kicks, each one driving him further back. For a moment, you feel a surge of confidence—you have the upper hand. But as the fight drags on, his words start to seep into your mind.

“Look at them,” he says, gesturing to the fallen agents. “All of them thought they could beat me. They thought you would save them.”

You grit your teeth, trying to block out his words, but the pained expressions on the faces of your fellow agents remain in your line of sight. Each glance at their unconscious bodies weakens your resolve.

“You’re so dedicated to your job,” the Crimson Fox continues, dodging your next strike with ease. “So dedicated you sacrificed their lives to get it done. You’re making it more obvious that you want to catch me not because you have to, but because that’s the only thing that’ll reassure you that you’re still good enough.”

“Shut up,” you growl, trying to regain your focus. But the words sting, hitting closer to home than you'd like to admit.

“You let them fight me without your aid, thinking they could handle it. Look at where they are now—broken and bleeding because of your arrogance.”

His relentless taunting chips away at your concentration. The memory of your fallen comrades’ faith in you and your failure to protect them plays over and over in your mind. Your attacks become sloppy, your defense weakens. He starts to gain the upper hand, his strikes landing with increasing accuracy and power.

“You think you can handle this on your own? Pathetic. They were counting on you, and you failed them.”

“Open that mouth of yours one more and I’ll make sure you’ll have no voice to speak for you by the end of the night,” you say through ragged breaths, but the doubt in your voice is unmistakable. He doesn’t listen to you, choosing to continue driving you on edge. “You were their last hope, and you let them down.” He laughs, his voice a poisonous whisper.

“You let them die.”

The last shred of your focus crumbles. You swing at him, desperate to silence his mocking voice, but he dodges easily, moving behind you in a flash. You feel a sharp, sudden pain at the back of your neck as he hits a nerve. Your vision blurs, darkness creeping in at the edges. “No,” you whisper, but it’s too late. The world goes black, and you collapse to the ground, unconscious.

When you wake up a short while later, the first thing you notice is the cold, hard chair pressing against your back. The tight ropes wrapped around your torso dig into your skin, restricting your movement. You struggle, the chair creaking beneath you, but the bindings hold firm. Your mouth is gagged with a bandana, muffling any sound you try to make. Frustration and anger bubble up inside you as you recall the events leading to your capture. Your mind races, replaying the moment the Crimson Fox struck you down. You should have been better. You should have saved your team.

Out of the shadows, the Crimson Fox emerges, his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. He walks toward you with a casual, almost leisurely pace, his eyes never leaving yours. Despite the mask still covering the rest of your face, he can see the fury and humiliation in your eyes.

“Look who’s awake,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “Comfortable?”

You try to stay calm and composed, but the sight of him makes your blood boil. You strain against the ropes, the chair creaking louder, but it’s no use. The gag stifles your attempts to speak, turning your words into frustrated, muffled sounds, making the Crimson Fox laugh. He crouches in front of you, close enough that you can see the amusement in his eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look.” He rolls his eyes. “You brought this upon yourself.”

You glare at him, your eyes burning with defiance. He scoffs, clearly entertained by your futile struggle. “You thought you could catch me, didn’t you?” he says, shaking his head. “Such arrogance. Did you really think you were good enough for that?” He stands up, pacing around you. “You know, I was expecting more from you. I’ve heard so much about your skills and your dedication. But now that I’m seeing you like this... I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

You try to shout something, but the gag turns your words into unintelligible noise. The Crimson Fox laughs, clearly enjoying your helplessness. “Hmm? What’s that? Trying to say something?” He leans in closer, his voice a whisper. “You look so vulnerable right now. So weak. It's almost... endearing.”

He steps back, tilting his head as he looks at you. “Tell me something,” he says, his tone more thoughtful now. “Have you ever doubted your cause? Ever wondered if the side you’re fighting for is truly the right one?”

You frown, trying to understand his angle. He chuckles softly. “Ah, I see it in your eyes. That flicker of doubt. You’ve always been so dedicated to your job, so sure of your purpose. But have you ever stopped to question it?”

He starts speaking in riddles, his words twisting and turning. “Not everything is as it seems. Sometimes, the lines between right and wrong blur. Heroes and villains, they’re often two sides of the same coin. Haven’t you ever considered that?”

Your eyes narrow, and he smirks. “You think you’re fighting for justice, for the greater good. But what if the very people you work for are hiding the truth from you? What if you’re just a piece of a bigger puzzle?”

He crouches down again, closer this time. “You see, they’re not as noble as you think. They have secrets, dark ones. And you’re blindly following their orders, thinking you’re making a difference. But are you?”

His words worm their way into your mind, sowing seeds of doubt. “You’re dedicated, I’ll give you that. But dedication without question, without understanding, is just another form of blindness.”

“Think about it. Reflect on your cause,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of mockery and genuine challenge. He leans forward, hooking a finger under the bandana wrapped around your mouth, and pulls it down. “Because sometimes, the world is not always as it seems.”

As the gag falls away, he’s back to taunting you. “So, Agent, feeling a bit more talkative now?” You meet his gaze with a fiery glare, blood from a split lip pooling in your mouth. Without breaking eye contact, you spit the blood onto his face. He’s taken aback for a moment, wiping it off with a disgusted sneer. But then he scoffs, a dark laugh bubbling up from his chest.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” he says, clearly amused. “I admire your spirit. It’s a shame it’s so misdirected.”

“You think tying me up proves anything?” you retort, eyes burning with anger. “It just shows how terrified you are of facing me head-on.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter. “Terrified? No, no. I’m just smart. Smarter than your entire organization, it seems.”

“You hide behind tricks and deception,” you snap. “Real strength doesn’t need such cowardice.”

He wipes the remaining blood from his face, looking at you with a mix of admiration and disdain. “Real strength? Like the strength your agents showed? Oh, wait, they’re all unconscious.”

You grit your teeth, the sight of your fallen comrades still fresh in your mind. “You won’t get away with this. You think this is over?” you challenge, keeping your voice firm despite your resolve crumbling. “This is just the beginning. I will hunt you down, no matter where you hide.”

He smirks, clearly entertained by your defiance. “Big words for someone in your position. Now that you can use that mouth of yours, tell me, why are you so dedicated to catching me? What is it you’re really fighting for? You’ve always claimed you’re fighting for… justice,” he mocks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And yet, your ‘justice’ left your comrades bleeding and broken.”

“They knew the risks,” you reply, refusing to let him see any doubt. “We all did. And we’re willing to pay the price to stop you.”

"Such dedication," he muses, almost to himself. “Haven’t you ever wondered if you’re fighting for the right side?”

You narrow your eyes, refusing to let his words shake you. “Save your philosophical musings for someone who cares. I know what’s right, and it’s not you.”

“We’ll see,” he says, standing up straight and looking down at you. “We’ll see how long that conviction lasts.”

He leans in closer, his voice a low whisper. “Remember, Agent, the truth is often hidden in plain sight. Keep your eyes open.”

He leaps out of the window by the roof of the warehouse, a mocking farewell echoing back to you. As soon as he’s out of sight, you struggle against the ropes binding you. Although he left you untouched while you were unconscious, he had been smart enough to ensure you were restricted from using your suit’s full capabilities. Every movement sends sharp aches through your body, the ropes digging into your skin.

Just then, you notice a small red button blinking in the corner of the room. Squinting, you recognize it as a surveillance camera. Had it been shut down the entire time? The fact that it’s only working now, after the Crimson Fox left, could only mean one thing—he saw this coming. He knew what was going to happen and had prepared meticulously. As you continue to struggle, your in-ear monitor beeps, signaling an incoming call. Director Han’s voice comes through, urgent and tense.

“Agent, the Crimson Fox knew of our plan beforehand. He managed to shut down all cameras so we couldn’t supervise you and your team.”

You grit your teeth, frustration bubbling up. “Director Han, I need immediate assistance at the warehouse. My fellow agents are severely wounded.”

“Yes, I can see you from the camera in the separate room you’re in,” Director Han responds. “We’re mobilizing a team now. Hang tight.”

“Prioritize the agents first,” you urge, your voice firm despite the pain. “They need medical attention immediately. I can manage, but they can't.”

The call ends, leaving you in silence once more. Your mind races, guilt gnawing at you. The sight of your comrades lying unconscious, wounded by the Crimson Fox, flashes through your mind. You should have done more. You should have been faster, smarter.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, each second marked by the pulse of the red light on the camera. Finally, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching, hurried and heavy. The door bursts open, and medical personnel rush in, followed by a team of agents. Before they even get to ask about your condition, you cut them off, urgency in your voice. “What’s the status of the other agents?”

“They’re injured but stable. The medics are with them now,” one of the agents informs you.

“Good. Hurry up and cut these ropes. They need help more than I do,” you command, your tone brooking no argument. As soon as you’re free from the ropes’ grasp, you try to stand up quickly but a sharp pain shoots through your body, making you hiss. The agents rush to assist, attempting to place your arm over their shoulders for support, but you wave them off. “Go back to the others and prioritize their care,” you insist.

The agents exchange uncertain glances, clearly concerned. You usually avoid using your position as the highest-level secret agent to assert authority, but this is different. “That’s an order,” you state firmly. “Now go.”

Reluctantly, they comply, hurrying back to where the other agents are. Left alone in the room, you take a moment to steady yourself, looking up at the window where the Crimson Fox made his escape. A sigh escapes your lips, and you begin to move, each step sending waves of pain through your body. Your hand clutches your torso, pressing against the spot where the Crimson Fox had landed a particularly hard punch. You cough, a pool of blood splattering the floor, and groan in pain. But you know your fellow agents have gone through worse. They’re more hurt than you are. Summoning every ounce of strength, you follow after the medics who had just left. When you reach the area of the warehouse where the Crimson Fox had easily knocked out your team, the sight that greets you fills you with guilt. Agents are being aided or carried away on stretchers, their injuries severe. Medics work swiftly, tending to wounds and stabilizing the unconscious. You stand there, watching the scene unfold, guilt gnawing at you.

Were you really good enough? Were you really good enough if you let this happen? The question lingers in your mind, the faces of your fallen comrades haunting you. Each pained expression, each wound, is a testament to the stakes of your mission and the high price of failure. You feel a weight settling over you, heavier than any physical injury. The responsibility, the burden of leadership, and the doubt of your own abilities press down on you, almost suffocating. You’re supposed to be their shield, their leader. And you had failed.

Back at headquarters, you’re the only agent still conscious after the fight, the sole presence in the meeting room with the directors. The silence feels deafening as you stare into the void, numbness enveloping you. You attempt to distract yourself from the harrowing events, but it’s futile. Director Liu’s sharp call of your name snaps you out of your thoughts, and you clear your throat, mumbling an apology. She then begins the debriefing. “When you and the other agents were being escorted back to headquarters, the investigative team went to the warehouse to locate the artifact. The location was provided to them by the director board. Surprisingly, it was still there.”

You’re supposed to feel relieved, to have the weight lifted off your shoulders, but instead, a sense of doubt and suspicion creeps in. Why didn’t the Crimson Fox steal it? Was stealing it even his intention in the first place? And how did the director board know the exact location of the artifact inside the warehouse? Their voices of celebration are hollow in your ears. You speak up, your tone devoid of enthusiasm, lacking its usual professionalism.

“Was it worth it?”

The directors turn to you, confusion etched on their faces. “What do you mean?” Director Kang asks.

“Was it worth sacrificing the lives of our agents for an artifact?” Your words hang in the air, heavy with accusation. You’re not only targeting them but also yourself—your recklessness, your selfishness.

Director Kang chuckles awkwardly, attempting to lighten the mood. “This is exactly what agents are for. They take risks for justice, for the greater good.”

“They didn’t want to nearly die, though, did they?” you retort, your eyes fixed on the table. Not because you’re afraid of meeting their gaze, but because you don’t want to see your reflection in their eyes—the reflection of a fool, of failure. “You know the risks imposed by the Crimson Fox, I know them—but those agents you sent? They didn’t. They didn’t risk their lives for justice; you put their lives on the line without letting them know what they were getting into beforehand. You said it yourself—I’m the only person capable of handling this mission. And yet you sent them anyway.”

Director Han brushes you off, her tone dismissive. “I don’t quite understand why you’re being so emotional. This is unlikely coming from you, Agent. If you’re so concerned about them, then why didn’t you do your best to protect them? They wouldn’t have been wounded if you just taught yourself to be less selfish and reckless, no? Quit the emotional turmoil. The compass is now in our hands, and that’s the only thing that matters. You’re dismissed.”

The finality in her words stings. You rise from your seat, feeling the weight of their gazes on your back as you turn to leave the room. The doubts and guilt gnaw at you, refusing to let go. You know that while the compass may be secured, the cost was too high. Director Liu calls out your name before adding, “Given the circumstances, it’s highly unlikely that the Crimson Fox will strike again anytime soon. For now, the mission will be put on hold.”

You nod, absorbing their words. But the relief they seem to feel only deepens your inner turmoil. Dismissed, you walk out of the meeting room, your steps heavy with guilt. As you walk through the halls of the headquarters, you pass by the infirmary. Through the transparent doors, you see all of your fellow agents who were with you on the mission, lying on hospital beds, their injuries a stark reminder of the night’s failure. A tear slips down your cheek as you tear your gaze away and continue walking.

This was exactly your biggest fear. You didn’t mind being sent on dangerous missions, didn’t mind losing a limb for what it was worth, didn’t mind dying by the hands of a criminal—but inflicting harm on your colleagues because of your rash decisions was something that would always haunt you. They were hurt, not just because of the Crimson Fox, but because of you.

You weren’t a fool to trust them, but you were a fool to not foresee the consequences of your orders. Agents send concerned looks your way as you pass through the hall, but you use every fiber in your body to try to ignore them. Passing by the lounge, you catch sight of Yeosang. Just as he’s about to approach you, you quicken your steps to the elevator leading out of the headquarters.

Each step on your way home feels dreadful. Once you finally arrive home, you can’t even muster the strength to go to your bedroom. The moment you close your house’s door, you press your back against it, sliding down as sobs wrack your body. You cry endlessly, not even allowing yourself a moment to breathe. The guilt, the doubt, the haunting images of your fallen comrades—all of it overwhelms you, leaving you feeling more vulnerable than ever before.

Were you truly good enough for this? Was tonight really as much of a success as the directors were making it out to be? Was not having to be on the scene for about a week really something to celebrate? Sure, they shouldn’t have sent those agents to begin with, but you should’ve thought more rationally, too. The words the Crimson Fox spat rang endlessly in your mind.

“You think you’re fighting for justice, for the greater good. But what if the people you work for are hiding the truth from you? What if you’re just a pawn in their game? You see, they’re not as noble as you think. They have secrets, dark ones. And you’re blindly following their orders, thinking you’re making a difference. But are you?”

As you sit there, the implications of his words gnaw at you. What if the directors were hiding something? Their dismissive attitude towards your injured colleagues, their relentless pursuit of the seemingly insignificant artifact, and their lack of transparency—all of it began to form a troubling picture. The directors didn’t seem to care about your fellow agents that were wounded. They only cared about the artifact and the mission. The thought unsettled you, planting a seed of doubt in your mind about the true nature of the organization you were so dedicated to.

And then you remember what he said that hit you the most.

“You know, I was expecting more from you. I’ve heard so much about your skills, your dedication. But now that I see you like this... I’m disappointed.”

Disappointed.

Were you really worth holding your title if you couldn’t even catch a thief your level? Were you really as good as you were made out to be, or had you just never found your match all along—until now?

You begin to question everything. The confidence you once had in your abilities feels shattered. The Crimson Fox had not only outsmarted you but had also tainted you with a sense of doubt about the very organization you served. You wonder if you’ve been blind to the darker aspects of the agency, too focused on your missions to see the bigger picture. You sit there, questioning your place in all of this. Were you really making a difference, or were you, like he had said, just another pawn in a game you didn't fully understand?

—

The next few days were nothing short of dread for you. The library, once your sanctuary and source of normalcy in your chaotic life, now felt like a chore. Each book you shelved, each patron you assisted, only reminded you of the emptiness gnawing at your core. You tried to convince yourself that you were unaware of the reason, but deep down, you knew it all too well.

Wooyoung hadn’t visited the library since the night of the mission to stop the Crimson Fox from getting his hands on the compass—the night that started this numbness. His absence left a void, a missing puzzle piece in your life. You had always found solace in his presence, a beacon guiding you back to the right path when your mind was a storm. But now, in your time of need, he was nowhere to be found. Even now, as you assisted a patron in finding a book that suited their interests, your thoughts drifted to Wooyoung. Where was he? What was he doing? Why hadn’t he come to see you? Was he thinking about you, too? You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the patron gently tugging the sleeve of your blouse.

“Excuse me, miss. Could you tell me more about this book?” the patron asked, holding up a novel.

You blinked, bringing yourself back to the present. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, clearing your throat. You began explaining the book’s plot and themes, managing a weak smile as the patron thanked you and walked away. Left alone in the aisle, you found yourself staring blankly at the shelves, drowning in your thoughts. Time seemed to blur. You didn’t know how long you had been standing there until a familiar voice broke through your haze.

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you—” Wooyoung’s cheerful tone trailed off as he saw the expression on your face.

You turned to him, eyes brimming with unshed tears. He quickly closed the distance between you and entered the aisle you were standing in, his concern evident. “Hey, are you okay?”

His words were the final push, breaking down the fragile walls you had built around your emotions. Without a second thought, you let yourself fall into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder. The dam broke, and you sobbed uncontrollably, your body shaking with the force of your emotions.

Wooyoung held you tightly, his hand gently stroking your back. “It’s okay, it’s okay, alright?” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered spirit. “I’m here. Just let it out.”

The comfort of his embrace was overwhelming. You clung to him as if he were your lifeline, the tears flowing freely now. The pain, guilt, and doubt you had been holding back poured out in waves. He didn’t rush you or press for answers, simply standing there, offering silent support.

Wooyoung led you to a secluded area of the library, away from prying eyes. He found a quiet corner with a small table and sat you down, choosing to sit beside you instead of across. The soft, ambient light filtered through the high windows, casting gentle shadows around you both. His presence was comforting, a steady anchor in your turbulent sea of emotions.

Without a word, he began rubbing gentle circles on your back, his touch soothing. He seemed to instinctively know that you weren’t ready to talk, that you needed a moment to collect yourself. The library was silent except for the soft rustle of pages and distant whispers, providing a tranquil backdrop to your chaotic thoughts. You kept your eyes down on the table, focusing on the grain of the wood as you tried to steady your breathing.

After a while, when the storm of your emotions had calmed to a manageable level, you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung blinked, clearly puzzled by your apology. “Hey, no, don’t say that. You have nothing to apologize for,” he said gently, but you waved him off before he could continue.

“I didn’t mean to just suddenly have an outburst like that,” you explained, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks.

“It’s normal,” he reassured you, his tone soothing. “It’s okay to let it out. It happens to everyone.” He paused, gauging your reaction. When he saw that you weren’t ready to dwell on your breakdown any further, he quickly shifted the conversation, his next statement catching you off guard.

“I think roadman vampires would be pretty sick.”

The sudden statement startled you out of your melancholic state. You looked at him with an unreadable expression, as if he had just blurted out the most absurd combination of words to ever exist. “Sorry, what?” you asked, incredulous.

“I mean, think about it,” Wooyoung continued, undeterred. “Picture me this: you’re walking down the street, right? It’s dark, a bit sketchy. Suddenly, this roadman vampire rolls up on you, tracksuit and all, but instead of asking for drugs or some cash, he’s like, ‘Bruv, spare us a pint of your blood?’”

You stared at him, still trying to process the bizarre turn the conversation had taken. “Are you serious right now? What, like, ‘Oi mate, got any O negative?’”

"Yeah! And instead of carrying knives, they carry little blood bags strapped to their belts—and their hoodies have those fake vampire teeth printed on them. ‘Bloodsucker’ written in bold letters across their backs.”

You couldn’t help but be caught off guard. The mental image he painted was so ridiculous that you found yourself struggling to hold back a laugh. “No, seriously! Imagine the street lingo mixed with vampire lore. ‘I’ll suck ya blood, fam’ becomes their catchphrase.”

That did it. You broke into a short fit of laughter, struggling to keep your voice down in order not to disturb the other patrons. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but this time from amusement rather than sorrow.

“What do you think?” he urges, insistent on pushing further with his agenda.

“I think you’ve officially lost your mind,” you said between giggles, shaking your head. Silence engulfs both of you—a comfortable one at that, while Wooyoung seems to still be imagining the scenario of randomly stumbling upon a roadman vampire. Just then, three words came out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I missed you.”

The library around you seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the weight of your admission. Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your confession. You hurriedly straightened up in your seat, trying to backtrack, your cheeks warming with embarrassment.

“I mean, it’s just, you know, you have this infectious enthusiasm and—”

“You did?” Wooyoung interrupted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and hope. “You missed me?”

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, searching for any sign of judgment or discomfort. There was none. Just a flicker of something warm and genuine in his eyes that made you feel oddly vulnerable. “I... I did,” you admitted quietly, unable to look away from him.

A smile slowly spread across Wooyoung's face, softening his features. “Well, tell you what, I missed you too,” he confessed, his voice gentle. “It felt strange not having you around.”

A rush of relief flooded through you, mingling with a hint of disbelief. You had expected awkwardness or perhaps a polite deflection, not this genuine reciprocation.

“You did? Like, really, really did?” you echoed his words, trying to lighten the mood with a hint of playful skepticism.

Wooyoung chuckled, his smile widening. “Yeah, I really, really did.”

His genuine response eased the tension between you, and you found yourself relaxing in his presence. The heaviness of the past few days seemed to lift slightly, replaced by a warmth you hadn’t felt in a while. “You know,” Wooyoung continued, his tone light but sincere, “you’re an amazing person. Strong, dedicated, caring. You might not always see yourself that way, but trust me when I say that’s how you look in my eyes.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his unexpected praise. “You think so?” You tilt your head.

“Know so.”

He then continued, “And, you know, if you ever need someone to distract you by reading the entire Hotel Transylvania script in roadman slang, I’m your guy.”

“You’re my guy?” you teased, unable to resist poking fun at Wooyoung's unintentional slip.

“I mean, um, you know, for when you’re going through a tough time or just want to hang out. Not in that way, or, like, I mean, if you—” Wooyoung stumbled over his words, cheeks flushing slightly.

You cut him off with a laugh. “I know what you mean, Woo. I was just messing around.” The nickname slipped out effortlessly, and you didn’t even notice it, but Wooyoung felt his heart skip a beat.

After your playful banter, you stood up, straightening the light crinkles on your blouse. Wooyoung looked at you curiously. “Where are you going?”

You smiled amusedly at him. “You know I’m the librarian here, right?”

Wooyoung chuckled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah, yeah, right.”

Before you could head back to your station at the registrar, you turned back to him. “Thanks for making me feel better, Wooyoung.”

As you started to walk away, Wooyoung stood up abruptly, catching up to you. “Wait.” He gently grabbed your wrist, and you turned to him with a surprised look. “Yeah?”

He stumbled over his words for a moment before blurting out, “I was thinking... maybe I could take you out to dinner tonight. Just to lift off the rest of your burdens and have a good time together. My treat.”

Silence fell between you for a couple of seconds, and Wooyoung appeared nervous, waiting for your response. You smiled at him, unable to resist teasing a little. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

The joke was meant to lighten the mood, but as Wooyoung shyly chuckled, your eyes widened in slight surprise. He was.

“It’s okay if you don’t—”

“I’d love to, Woo,” you interrupted, your smile growing wider at the genuine delight on his face.

“Really? I mean, cool, cool. Yeah, cool,” Wooyoung tried to play it off casually, but his eyes betrayed his excitement.

You returned to the counter to continue your work, aware of Wooyoung stealing glances at you from his seat nearby. Each time your eyes met, he would quickly look away, making you chuckle softly to yourself.

When your shift finally ended, Wooyoung’s enthusiasm was almost palpable, though he tried to mask it with nonchalance. It was endearing to see how he eagerly offered to handle the closing duties. He started tidying up the library, insisting you just sit back and relax. He even took your bag, slinging it over his shoulder with a playful smile.

Once you were outside, as you locked the doors with your keys, Wooyoung reached up to pull down the metal shutter. You stopped him by gently holding his wrist. “I can handle it,” you said with a smile.

He looked at you, his eyes warm. “I know you can, but I want to help.”

Caught off guard by his sincerity, you let go of his wrist and watched as he effortlessly brought down the shutter. It was a simple gesture, but it made you feel cared for in a way you hadn’t expected. As the two of you walked down the quiet street, you couldn't help but ask, “So, where are you taking me?”

Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s a surprise. Just trust me.”

You chuckled, deciding to play along. The comfortable silence that settled between you was filled with a sense of ease and familiarity. You took the opportunity to glance at him, noticing the effort he had put into his appearance tonight. He looked especially dashing, dressed in a black turtleneck and well-fitted pants, exuding a charm that was hard to ignore.

“So, this is why you’re all dressed up, huh?” you teased, a hint of a smile on your lips.

He looked slightly bashful but met your gaze with a grin. “Well, I had to make a good impression.”

You laughed, feeling a lightness in your chest that had been absent for days. The weight of your earlier troubles seemed to lift, if only for a moment, as you walked beside Wooyoung. The evening air was cool and refreshing, and as you walked, you found yourself feeling increasingly at ease. Wooyoung kept the conversation light, sharing amusing stories and anecdotes from his recent trip. His animated storytelling and genuine enthusiasm made you smile and laugh, easing the lingering tension in your mind.

When you finally arrived at the restaurant, you were pleasantly surprised. It was a cozy, intimate place with a warm ambiance. Wooyoung held the door open for you, and you feel a sense of anticipation. As you and Wooyoung entered the cozy restaurant, a waiter greeted you both with a warm smile. “Ah, what a lovely couple! Please, follow me to your table,” he said, turning to lead you through the intimate setting before you had a chance to correct him.

The waiter led you to a table in a quiet corner, and you noted the reserved sign with a small, appreciative smile. Once seated across from each other, you looked at Wooyoung with playful skepticism. “So, you reserved a table for the lovely couple, huh?”

Wooyoung quickly waved his hands defensively. “I swear, I didn’t tell him we were a couple or anything like that!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Relax, Woo. I’m just playing around.”

You both placed your orders, and as you waited for your food, the conversation naturally turned to his recent trip due to you asking him about it. While he was recalling fragments of moments from it, a particular memory appeared in his mind.

“Oh, you know, one day, we were painting this huge section and suddenly a storm rolled in. We had to scramble to cover everything and ended up drenched. We were laughing so hard by the end of it. It was a mess, but a fun one,” he said, his eyes twinkling with the memory. “It was pretty hilarious. We spent the next day fixing everything that got messed up, but it was worth it. The mural turned out amazing, and Yunho was really happy with it.”

“Sounds like you had a great time,” you said, feeling more relaxed as you listened to his stories.

“I really did! Enough about me, though,” Wooyoung said suddenly, leaning forward. “I want to know more about you.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback. “Huh?”

“You know so much about me, but I know almost nothing about you,” he pointed out, his expression earnest.

It struck you that he was right. “You... want to know more about... me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, smiling warmly.

You hesitated for a moment, considering how to navigate this without revealing too much. “Well, there’s not much to tell. I’ve always been more of a listener than a talker,” you began cautiously.

He tilted his head, encouraging you to continue. “Come on, there has to be something. Hobbies? Favorite books? Something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You began pondering, trying to gather your thoughts. “Well, let’s see... I guess I’ve always been a bit of a bookworm. I love getting lost in stories, exploring different worlds, and seeing life from different perspectives. That’s partly why I enjoy working at the library so much. It’s like being surrounded by endless possibilities.”

Wooyoung nodded, his eyes fixed on you with genuine interest. “I can totally see that. You always seem so at home there, like it’s your sanctuary.”

“It really is,” you agreed with a small smile. “I find comfort in its silence, the smell of books, and the sense of order. It’s a nice contrast to how chaotic life can get sometimes.”

“Do you have a favorite book?” Wooyoung asked, leaning in slightly.

You thought for a moment, a smile forming on your lips. “It’s hard to pick just one, but if I had to choose, it would probably be ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. I love the wit and intelligence of the characters, and the way the story critiques social norms.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up with interest. “That’s a great choice. I’ve heard a lot about it, but I’ve never actually read it. What do you like most about it?”

“It’s so many things,” you began, your excitement growing. “The main character, Elizabeth Bennet, is such a strong, independent woman, especially for her time. She’s smart, witty, and not afraid to speak her mind. And Mr. Darcy, well, he’s complex. At first, he seems arrogant and aloof, but as the story progresses, you see that he’s actually very kind and caring. Their dynamic is fascinating to me, and what I love most is their banter. The dialogue between them is so sharp and clever. They challenge each other, and through that, they grow as individuals. It’s not just a love story; it’s about personal growth and overcoming prejudices. Oh, not to mention, Elizabeth’s my favorite character from the book, too.”

Wooyoung pressed on further, his interest piqued. “What specifically draws you to her?”

“She’s such a remarkable character,” you said, your voice taking on a more reflective tone. “Elizabeth is not just intelligent and witty; she’s also incredibly perceptive and resilient. She navigates the rigid social structures of her time with a kind of grace and strength that’s really inspiring. She doesn’t let society dictate her choices, especially when it comes to marriage, which was a huge deal back then.”

Wooyoung nodded, clearly engrossed. “She sounds like someone worth admiring.”

“She really is,” you agreed. “What I find most compelling is her growth throughout the novel. She starts off with a lot of preconceived notions about people, particularly Darcy. But as the story progresses, she learns to look beyond her first impressions and recognizes her own faults and prejudices. It’s a humbling journey that makes her all the more relatable and admirable.”

“You see a lot of yourself in her, don’t you?” Wooyoung said, a gentle understanding in his eyes.

You paused, feeling a wave of vulnerability. “Yeah, I do. Elizabeth’s courage to speak her mind, her refusal to settle for anything less than what she deserves, and her ability to learn and grow from her mistakes... it all resonates with me deeply. I admire her character so much, and sometimes, I try to channel a bit of her strength in my own life.”

Wooyoung’s smile was warm and encouraging. “I think you’ve got a lot of that strength already. It’s clear just from talking to you.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a rush of gratitude. “It’s nice to talk about these things with someone who genuinely listens.”

“I’m really glad you shared that with me,” he said softly. “I can see why Elizabeth Bennet is your favorite. You’re really passionate about this book,” Wooyoung observed, his smile widening.

“I guess I am,” you admitted with a laugh. “I’ve read it so many times, and each time, I find something new to appreciate. Like how she subtly critiques the societal expectations placed on women, or how she portrays the complexity of human relationships. It’s brilliant.”

“Maybe I should give it a read sometime.” He stared above the ceiling and back into your eyes, a genuine haze wrapping itself around his eyes.

“You should,” you encouraged. “It’s more than just a romance novel. It’s a commentary on society, class, and the human condition. And it’s so well-written. Her use of irony and satire is masterful.”

“You’ve convinced me,” Wooyoung replied with a grin. “I’ll start reading that someday in the near future.”

“I think you’ll really enjoy it,” you said, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction. “And if you ever want to discuss it, I’m always here.”

“Deal,” he said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I’m looking forward to it.”

As the conversation progressed, you found yourself opening up more and more. Wooyoung’s genuine interest and warm presence made it easy to share parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. You talked about your love for music, your fondness for rainy days, and even your tendency to get lost in thought while daydreaming.

“You know, it’s really nice getting to know you like this,” Wooyoung said after a while. “You’re even more interesting than I already knew you were.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “It’s nice getting to know you too.”

As the date continued, you found yourself increasingly caught up in Wooyoung’s stories and laughter. He regaled you with tales from his college days, his animated expressions and infectious enthusiasm pulling you into his world. The way his eyes lit up with each memory, turning into joyful crescents as he laughed, made it hard not to get lost in the moment.

It was beautiful—he was beautiful.

But amidst the warmth and ease, a nagging doubt then began to creep into your mind. Was it really wise to let your feelings for Wooyoung develop, knowing the secret life you led? You were a spy, a covert operative whose existence was built on deception and danger. The thought of letting someone in, of allowing yourself to grow close to another person while harboring such a monumental secret, seemed almost reckless. Would it be safe to live under the roof of a house built in lies, knowing it is bound to fall?

Your thoughts wandered to the precarious balance you maintained every day. Your life was a constant dance on the edge of peril, where one wrong move could lead to complete catastrophe. Could you really afford to bring someone into that world, to risk their safety and well-being? The rational part of your mind screamed that it was impossible, that a relationship built on lies and half-truths could never truly flourish.

Yet, as Wooyoung shared a particularly hilarious memory involving a college prank gone wrong, you found yourself laughing along with him, the sound echoing warmly between you. His genuine joy, the way he seemed to find light in every situation, was like a stark contrast to your troubled thoughts. For a moment, the weight of your life lifted, replaced by the simple pleasure of being with him.

You watched him closely, taking in the way his eyes sparkled, his mouth curving into a grin that seemed to light up the entire room with ease. In that instant, all your worries and doubts seemed to fade into the background. It was as if his laughter had the power to push away the shadows that constantly loomed over you. You’d spent so much of your life calculating risks, planning every move with meticulous care. But here, with Wooyoung, it felt different. It felt right to let your guard down, if only for a little while, and enjoy the moments of happiness he brought into your life.

For once, it felt right to be wrong.

As his laughter subsided and he took a sip of his drink, you found yourself smiling more genuinely than you had in a long time. There was something about him that made you want to take that leap, to embrace the uncertainty and see where it led. You could hear the voice of reason in the back of your mind, cautioning you against it, but your heart was pushing you to choose to ignore it. Maybe this path was fraught with risks and uncertainties, but you were willing to take the chance. For now, you would let yourself be swept up in the joy and warmth that Wooyoung brought into your life. And maybe if you search hard enough, you could find a way to balance the shadows and the light, the secrets and the truths, in a way that allows you to truly live.

—

For the next few days, your life began to take on a new rhythm. Mornings once filled with solitude were now punctuated by Wooyoung’s cheerful presence. Each day, he would visit the library, transforming what used to be a quiet, routine part of your life into something vibrant and new. You had always seen the library as your sanctuary, a place where you could retreat from the chaos you’re bound to. But now, it was becoming a place where you felt truly alive, thanks to Wooyoung. You spent hours together, sharing stories, laughter, and a growing sense of connection. You learned that his sense of humor was more playful than what he’d let you on, often surprising you with his quirky questions and offbeat observations. He seemed to take genuine joy in making you laugh, and you found yourself looking forward to his visits more and more. It was during one of these conversations that you had mentioned, almost offhandedly, that you often skipped breakfast. It was just a passing comment, a small detail about your hectic mornings, but Wooyoung had latched onto it with surprising earnestness.

The next day, he showed up with a warm breakfast sandwich and a coffee, setting them on your desk with a grin. “You can’t start your day on an empty stomach,” he had said, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and concern. It became a ritual after that, his daily offerings of breakfast a tangible reminder of his thoughtfulness. Over time, the simple gesture began to chip away at the walls you had built around yourself. You found yourself growing softer, more open, and warmer towards him, as if the barriers you had erected to protect yourself were finally starting to crumble.

As the days passed, you discovered more facets of Wooyoung’s personality. He had a quiet depth to him, a sensitivity that contrasted with his often boisterous demeanor. He spoke about his passions, his dreams, and his past with a sincerity that was both endearing and disarming. You found yourself sharing more about your own life, albeit carefully avoiding any details about your work as a secret agent. Still, in the moments you spent together, you felt a connection that was both profound and unsettling. You knew that you were treading dangerous ground, allowing yourself to care for someone when your life was so precariously balanced.

But then, reality intruded. The brief respite you had enjoyed came to an abrupt end as you found yourself back in the headquarters, in the sterile, impersonal confines of the meeting room. The transition from the warmth of Wooyoung's company to the cold efficiency of your workplace was jarring. Director Han greeted you with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, her tone deceptively casual as she welcomed you back.

“Did you spend your break time to its fullest?” she asked, her voice smooth and untroubled. It was ironic, almost infuriating, that she could speak to you so casually after the way she had dismissed the well-being of your fellow agents weeks ago. Her apparent indifference to their suffering had been a bitter pill to swallow, but you had learned not to expect anything different from the director board. You forced a positive response, careful not to reveal the real reason your break had been enjoyable.

“I did,” you replied, keeping your voice steady and professional.

“Good,” she continued. “Because from now on, no distractions shall be allowed to enter your line of sight.”

You narrowed your eyes, sensing the gravity of what was to come. “Why is that?” Your eyebrows furrowed lightly.

Director Liu stepped forward, her expression grim. “The Crimson Fox has his eyes on a new artifact,” she said, her voice laden with significance. “And this mystical property is of utmost importance. Its value surpasses anything he has targeted before.”

You crossed your arms, skepticism evident in your posture. “Mystical properties? Are we basing our mission on legends now?” you began, your voice rising with incredulity. “Forgive me, Director, but you have to admit, this sounds like a wild goose chase. First, it’s an old painting, then a compass, and now this? Why are we placing such high value on what seem to be random artifacts?”

Director Liu’s expression remained stoic, but you pressed on. “You’re coming off as suspiciously secretive. There’s a lack of transparency here, and I’m not comfortable with it. If there’s something about this artifact that’s critical, I need to know. Otherwise, I can’t accept this mission.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. The directors exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Director Kang spoke up, his tone conciliatory.

“The artifact in question is not just a relic. It’s a key component in a much larger puzzle, one that we’ve been trying to piece together for years. Its significance lies not only in its historical value but in its potential to unlock other, more powerful artifacts.”

You considered his words, your mind racing. “And you expect the Crimson Fox to know this? To understand its true value?”

Director Han nodded. “He’s always been one step ahead, understanding the deeper connections between these items. We believe he has access to information that we do not.”

You sighed, the pieces slowly falling into place. “Alright, but if you want me to risk my life for this, I need full disclosure. No more secrets.”

Director Liu’s eyes softened slightly. “You have our word. We’ll provide you with all the information we have.”

With that assurance, you shifted gears. “What are the risks involved in this mission?”

Director Kang’s expression grew serious. “The risks are considerable. The artifact is being kept in a high-security facility with state-of-the-art defenses. But the Crimson Fox has proven time and again that he can circumvent such measures. There’s also the risk of collateral damage. We can’t afford another incident like the last mission.”

You nodded, the memory of the previous mission's failure still fresh. “And you’re not planning on accompanying me with other agents again, are you? You know what happened last time.”

Director Han shook her head. “No. This time, you’ll be going alone. We can’t risk another failure.”

You hummed in thought. Well, at least they’re aware of the damage they caused. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him.”

Director Han’s smile was approving. “That’s the spirit we need. Now, let’s discuss the specifics.” Then, they began to outline the details of the operation, and you listened intently, asking pointed questions and clarifying key points.

“The artifact is housed in the Armitage Museum,” Director Kang started. “It’s a high-security facility with several layers of defense. Surveillance cameras, motion detectors, laser grids, and a rotating guard schedule.”

You leaned forward, absorbing the information. “What about the artifact’s location within the museum? Is it in a display case or a secured vault?”

“It’s in a secured vault in the basement,” Director Liu replied. “The vault itself has a biometric lock system, requiring both fingerprint and retinal scans.”

“Whose biometrics?” you asked, your mind already working on possible infiltration methods. “The museum director and head of security,” Director Han answered. “We have gathered some intel on their schedules, but gaining access to them will be tricky.”

“How exactly do you expect me to bypass all these security measures?” you questioned, your tone sharp. “And what about backup plans in case things go south?”

“We have a tech team working on a device to temporarily disable the security systems,” Director Kang said. “It will give you a window of approximately ten minutes to get in and out. As for backup plans, a secondary team will be on standby outside the museum, ready to intervene if necessary.”

You frowned. “Ten minutes isn’t much time. What if the Crimson Fox has already infiltrated the museum by then?”

“That’s a risk we have to take,” Director Liu admitted. “But our intel suggests he hasn’t made his move yet. He seems to be waiting for the right moment.”

“And you believe that moment is imminent?” you pressed, wanting to be sure.

Director Han nodded. “All signs point to it. We can’t afford to wait any longer.”

You took a deep breath, considering the gravity of the situation. “What about the museum’s guard schedule? Any gaps or vulnerabilities?”

Director Kang pulled up a digital layout of the museum, highlighting key areas. “The guards rotate every four hours. The weakest point is during the shift change, which happens at 2 AM. There’s a brief period of about ten minutes where the new shift is settling in and the old shift is wrapping up.”

You nodded, making mental notes. “So, we time our infiltration during the shift change. What about the museum director and head of security? Are they on-site during that time?”

“The head of security is on-site, but the museum director leaves around midnight,” Director Liu said. “We’ll need to find a way to access the director’s biometric data before he leaves.”

You pursed your lips, nodding slowly. “Alright. What about the Crimson Fox? Any recent intel on his whereabouts or movements?”

“We believe he’s been laying low, preparing for this heist," Director Liu replied. "But we have no concrete information on his exact location.”

“Great,” you muttered to yourself sarcastically. “So, we’re going in blind, hoping he doesn’t show up at the worst possible moment.”

“It’s a calculated risk,” Director Kang said, his tone firm. “But we have confidence in your abilities.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’ll do it. But if things go sideways, I’m not taking the fall for this.”

“Understood,” Director Han said. “We’ll provide you with all the support you need." The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the upcoming mission settling over you. Despite the tension, you felt a familiar sense of determination. You had faced dangerous missions before, and you would face this one with the same resolve. As the meeting concluded, you gathered your materials and prepared to leave. The mission would take place tomorrow night, giving you just enough time to make the necessary preparations. You knew the risks were high, but you also knew that you were the best person for the job.

The day of the mission came quicker than you had expected, and today, you decided to spend your entire day in the headquarters training room. It had been a while since your last appearance on the scene, and you didn’t want to get too comfortable—especially not now, with Wooyoung unknowingly making you softer. As you warmed up, your muscles responded with a familiar ease, the rhythm of your movements a comforting reminder of the life you had chosen. This was your world, where precision and control reigned supreme. You moved to the climbing rig, scaling its heights with practiced agility. But then, unexpectedly, your hand slipped on a rung, and you plummeted to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. The impact jolted through you, making you hiss in pain. It was unfamiliar—usually, you never messed up like this.

Gritting your teeth, you pushed yourself back up. You couldn't afford to falter now, not with such a critical mission looming. But as you continued your training, your mind kept drifting to Wooyoung. His smile, his laugh, the way he looked at you with those bright, sincere eyes. You wondered, if you hadn't been dragged into the world of espionage, would you have been able to live a normal life with him? Would you have met him under different circumstances, where you were just a normal librarian without any lies to cover up? Would you be sitting across from him at a café, holding his hand instead of a training handlebar? In another reality, would your days be filled with mundane joys and quiet moments, rather than the constant threat of danger and deceit?

You tried to shake it off, but the questions persisted, echoing through your mind. Each time you lost focus, your balance wavered, and frustration mounted. You kicked the wall in anger, the sound reverberating through the empty training room. Sinking to the ground, you ran your hands through your hair, feeling the weight of your double life pressing down on you.

You got too carried away.

The line between your professional life and your personal desires blurred, leaving you vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The stakes were too high for distractions, but the more you tried to push thoughts of Wooyoung aside, the more insistent they became. What would it be like to wake up each day without the looming specter of danger? To simply enjoy a quiet breakfast with him, without the burden of secrets hanging over your head? You imagined lazy Sunday mornings, his arm draped over your shoulders as you both laughed at something trivial on TV. The normalcy of it all seemed almost unattainable, a distant dream compared to the harsh reality you faced.

Your training session deteriorated into a series of missteps and missed cues. Each failure added to your frustration, culminating in a moment of sheer exasperation. You kicked the wall again, harder this time, before collapsing against it, breathing heavily. The training room, once a place of focus and discipline, now felt suffocating. You let your thoughts wander freely, for just a moment longer. Perhaps in a different life, Wooyoung would be waiting for you at home, a comforting presence after a long day. Maybe you would have shared stories about your days, him talking about his friends and his life, while you shared anecdotes from the library. The mundane yet beautiful simplicity of it all was both a solace and a torment.

But this was your reality. You were a secret agent, and tonight, you had a mission to complete. The risks were too great, and the stakes too high, to indulge in fantasies of what could have been. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself off the ground, determination hardening your resolve. You couldn’t afford to let your emotions get the best of you. Not now. Not when the Crimson Fox was still out there, waiting for the right moment to strike. You had a job to do, and no matter how much you wished for a different life, this was the path you had chosen.

Standing up, you squared your shoulders and resumed your training with renewed focus. The thoughts of Wooyoung lingered, but you forced them to the back of your mind. There would be time to sort through your feelings later. For now, you needed to be at your best. The hours ticked by, each one bringing you closer to the mission.

After concluding your training session, you decide to make a quick stop at the bathroom to wash your face and clean yourself up. The training session had left you sweaty and disheveled, and you needed a moment to compose yourself. As you walk down the corridor, you pass by the storage room where they kept broken training equipment. The door is slightly ajar, and you catch the sound of hushed whispers. Curiosity piqued, you slow your pace, straining to hear the conversation. One voice is male, the other female, both speaking in low tones that suggest secrecy.

“Are you sure this is the right time for it?” the male voice asks, sounding nervous.

“We don’t have a choice,” the female voice replies, more assertive. “Everything’s in place. We need to act before it’s too late.”

“But what if someone finds out? The consequences—”

“Keep your voice down,” she hisses. “No one can know. Especially not her.” Your heart skips a beat. Who were they talking about? And what was this plan they were so secretive about? Your mind races with possibilities, but you know better than to jump to conclusions without more information.

Just then, you hear footsteps approaching from a distance. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, you quickly move away from the storage room and head to the bathroom. Once inside, you lean against the sink, letting the cold water wash over your face as you process what you just heard. Why were they talking about that? What could they be planning? And who were they referring to when they said “her”? You know the headquarters well enough to recognize that not everyone can be trusted, but this conversation feels particularly sinister.

As you dry your face, your thoughts swirl with suspicion. You couldn't afford to ignore this. But confronting them directly without evidence could jeopardize everything. You needed to tread carefully and keep an eye out for any further signs of shady activity. Finishing up, you take a deep breath and straighten your posture. With your mind now sharpened by both the day’s training and this unexpected encounter, you make your way to the briefing room, ready to face the mission ahead. But in the back of your mind, the conversation lingers, a shadow that you can't shake off—yet you force them into the back of your mind, as there’s a mission to be done, and distractions could be fatal. The director board goes over their initial plan, and you sense they are putting more effort into this than the last few attempts to capture the Crimson Fox.

You arrive at the museum entrance, immediately checking the security cameras by the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you saw that all of them were broken, yet the sight inside the museum was what surprised you even more. The security guards were all lying unconscious on the floor, every security system is disabled, and the lights were off. The only illumination comes from the dim glow of the moon passing through the windows. You move cautiously, noting that every guard and system is down, which is unprecedented.

When you reach the large room housing the vault where the artifact is kept, you’re surprised to find the vault open, yet the artifact is still inside. You take your first step towards it when you sense a presence above. You quickly turn and grab the foot aiming for your face before it can make contact.

“Agent,” he starts, his voice smooth and mocking. “How nice to see you again.”

“You seem to have gone through a lot of trouble to get here tonight,” you note, glancing at the unconscious guards. “What’s your endgame?”

The Crimson Fox chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “My endgame? I think you already know. But the real question is, what’s yours?”

“Saving the artifact from your hands,” you retort, tightening your grip on his foot before releasing it, forcing him to backflip away from you.

He lands gracefully, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “And why do you care so much about this artifact? Do you even know what it truly is?”

“I know it’s important to the organization,” you reply, keeping your voice firm. “Important to the organization,” he echoes, a hint of derision in his tone. “But why? Have you ever asked yourself that? Why would they value something that, to everyone else, seems insignificant?”

You hesitate, and he catches it. “You’re starting to wonder, aren’t you?” he continues, stepping closer. “Starting to see the cracks in the façade. Tell me, why would they go to such lengths to protect this? What are they hiding?”

His words leave you pondering, but you refuse to show it. “You talk a lot for someone who’s about to lose.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, his tone almost playful. “But deep down, you know I’m right. You’ve seen enough to question them. To doubt.”

“Why do you care what I think?” you taunt, genuinely curious now. “Why are you trying so hard to make me doubt them?”

“Because,” he says, his voice softening just a fraction yet still deceiving, “I see potential in you. It’s just… misdirected.”

His words make you pause. “You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not,” he admits. “But I know enough. And I know you’re not blind. You can see the truth if you look hard enough.”

“And what truth is that?” you challenge, your heart pounding. He smiles, but it’s devoid of positivity. He then responds, “That’s for you to find out. But first, you have to want to know.”

“Do you?”

His question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. You’re at a crossroads, and you know it. The choice you make now could change everything. You stare at him, your mind racing. He’s given you a choice, a chance to see things differently. And for the first time, you’re not sure which path to take.

The fight then begins, and unlike the other battles you had with him that were more reckless, more about testing which of you was more skilled, this one felt different. There was an intensity, but also a strange harmony to your movements. Each strike, each block, each dodge—everything flowed seamlessly as if you were engaged in a violent dance, perfectly in sync.

It was a depiction of brutal beauty, a choreography of combat. Every step was calculated, every move met with a precise counter. The sound of your bodies colliding, the whisper of fabric, the heavy breaths—it all combined into a symphony of motion and energy. It was as if time slowed down, the world narrowing to just the two of you, locked in a battle that was as much about understanding as it was about defeating.

He lunged at you with a swift kick, and you dodged with a grace that matched his own, retaliating with a high kick that he barely managed to block. You spun, he ducked, you struck again, he parried. The fight was a dance where your movements entwined in a deadly ballet. There were no words exchanged, just the raw, primal communication of bodies in motion, testing each other’s limits.

Finally, you saw an opening. With a swift move, you caught him off guard, pinning him to the ground on his back. Knees on either side of his torso, you held both of his arms above his head with one hand, the other drawing a dagger from your pocket. You used it to lift up his mask and remove it.

The sight that met you filled you with utmost shock and a mixture of everything all at once.

“Wooyoung...?”

🪞— lividstar.

[genshin-impact-updates]

Web Event "Fragrant Fantasy" Now Online: Embark on a perfume-making journey with Miss Emilie~ Take part to obtain Primogems and other in-game rewards!

>> Click to Take Part in Event <<

Flowers and trees intertwine, mingling together to create a melody of fragrance.

Embark on a perfume-making journey with Miss Emilie~

〓Event Duration〓

July 9, 2024 – July 15, 2024 23:59 (UTC+8)

*Rewards cannot be claimed after the event ends. Please claim them in time.

〓Eligibility〓

Travelers who have reached Adventure Rank 10 or above can participate in this event.

〓Event Description〓

During the event, you can log into Genshin Impact daily, consume Original Resin, claim Commission Rewards, and complete other missions to obtain card packs.

Open the card pack at the workbench to obtain any Plant and Omni Cards. Plant and Omni Cards can be used to blend perfumes. You can obtain different grades of perfume based on the level of cards used.

After successfully blending perfumes, you can obtain Primogems and other in-game rewards based on the total number of perfumes made. Meanwhile, you can give these perfumes to Furina, Navia, and Sigewinne, and they will provide different feedback and evaluations based on the perfumes gifted.

You will receive fragrance reports from different companions for each bottle of perfume gifted. Give out perfume and share your fragrance report to obtain Primogems and other in-game rewards.

〓Obtain Ingredients〓

You can obtain card packs through the following methods and open them at the workbench to receive the corresponding Plant or Omni Cards:

1. Complete the following actions in Genshin Impact and the web event every day: log into Genshin Impact every day, consume 40 Original Resin, and complete other missions to receive the corresponding number of plant card packs.

2. Daily missions refresh at 04:00 (Server Time) each day. Unclaimed plant card packs will also be cleared by then. Please claim and use them in time. Claimed plant card packs will not be cleared.

*If you try to visit the event at around 04:00 (Server Time), which is when the daily missions refresh, you may encounter a brief network error. Please refresh the page if you encounter this error.

〓Make Perfumes〓

1. You need to place three different plant cards separately when making perfume. These plant cards have mutually exclusive relationships. You can open the Perfume Handbook on the left side of the workbench to read the relevant information on perfume blending. Using different plant cards will result in perfumes with different fragrances and colors.

2. Two same basic plant cards can be merged into an advanced plant card. Three advanced plant cards can be used to make a premium perfume.

3. You have the opportunity to draw Omni Cards from card packs. Omni Cards can be used to replace any basic or advanced plant cards. Additionally, when you use three Omni Cards to blend perfume, it will automatically create a perfume that you have yet to own.

4. Failing to blend a perfume does not deduct plant cards and you can try again multiple times.

5. During the blending process, you can visit the Exchange Shop at any time and use available plant cards that you no longer require to exchange for plant cards of the same level that you need.

6. Once you have successfully blended a perfume, you can send it to a companion. The corresponding companion will give different feedback based on the perfume you send out.

*If you exit in the middle of the blending process, plant cards will not be deducted.

*If you try to blend perfumes at around 04:00 (Server Time), which is when the daily missions refresh, you may encounter a brief network error. Please refresh the page if you encounter this error.

〓Customize Perfume Packaging〓

1. You can create perfume packaging for your companions on the page. Depending on the types of plant cards unlocked, different dyes can be unlocked.

2. You can use dyes to create your very own perfume packaging.

3. While designing the perfume packaging, you can clear the dyes you have applied at any time and start over, or undo the last dye application to remake it.

〓Event Rewards〓

Make a total of 12 bottles of perfume, successfully make 1 premium perfume, send 1 bottle of perfume to your companion, and share your fragrance report once to obtain a total of Primogems ×120, Mystic Enhancement Ore ×8, Hero's Wit ×8, and Mora ×90,000.

*The in-game rewards will be distributed via in-game mail. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the rewards in time.

*This web event is provided purely for entertainment. It is not indicative of any related gameplay features in Genshin Impact.

[earthtooz]

in which: rin feels obligated to buy you gifts on his birthday,

warnings: FLUFF, suggestive at some parts so 16+, reader's gender isn't specified but reader wears dresses, rin's pockets are LOADED, rin and reader are adults, i pray he is in character.

a/n: happy birthday to the man i've dedicated my heart to. no matter how far i stray from you, it seems like it will never forget the beat of your drum. there might be another rin fic coming soon because this one was whipped up so quickly, if term permits, there shall be two rin birfday fics coming out bc he is special 2 me.

“rin, what is all this?” 

sitting atop rin’s coffee table are a variety of gifts, laden with designer names that come in all kinds of packaging- boxes, bags, you name it, they were there. slipping out of your sneakers whilst rin places down your slippers, you’re speechless as you eye the pile of products, deducing that everything on that table combined was probably worth more than you.

turning your attention back to him, you somehow manner to stutter out a ‘happy birthday’ before embracing him tightly. he returns the favour, hugging you closer into his cashmere turtleneck where his subtle cologne fills your senses. in rin’s arm is where you feel most loved, so you cling to his warmth.

“how was your day?” you ask.

“fine, i was just waiting for you to get here.”

“i’m so sorry, hope i didn’t keep you waiting.” 

“no need to apologise,” he shrugs, “i don’t mind.”

stepping out of his embrace, you gesture to all of the designer items atop the table. “so, are those your birthday gifts or something? you got quite a lot of them.”

“uh no,” coughs the dark-haired as he bashfully looks away. “they’re for you.”

you look back at him like he’s grown three heads, eyes wide and mouth agape at his confession. “for- for me? me?”

“because i wanted to get something for you.”

“rin- no, i can’t possibly accept this, it’s your birthday! not mine!” you protest. “i’m supposed to get you something, not the other way around-”

the soccer player squeezes your hips gently as his eyes glisten with self doubt and insecurity; a sight you see often. you saw it on your first date with him, you see it in moments when he tells you he has to postpone a date, and you see it whenever his bedsheets pool around the two of you, hearts and bodies laid bare for the other. these are just few of the many moments you’d see it, but the dulling of his teal orbs as a slight frown pulls at his lips never fails to make your heart clench.

you're certain you know what he’s thinking, and this time he’s questioning whether or not what he’s gifted you is good enough. a preposterous thought for anyone that isn’t itoshi rin, because no matter what, there will always be strings of doubt pulling at his mind, fragile only at your mercy and ready to snap at any second to release a downpour. 

so, you put aside your guilt and grab his hands with yours. “thank you, rin,” you tell him, sincerely and wholeheartedly, “i was just shocked, but it really means a lot that you thought of me.”

“yeah?” light returns to his eyes.

“of course. i love everything about you, always treating me so well.”

he scoffs quietly, taking the cake box and bag from your hands to hide the flush on his face, the excuse of putting your things away for you a mere coverup. after all this time together, it seems like your words still have a spell over him. 

“take a seat on the couch, i’ll be back,” murmurs rin, disappearing into the kitchen. you abide by his command, tiptoeing around the coffee table with a suspicious glance before settling in the comfortable cushions. the athlete returns quickly, this time with two cups of water that he places down on separate tables that isn’t the coffee table.

instinctively, he grabs your legs and perches them atop his lap and you relax right into the way his thumb draws circles on your skin. 

“do- do you expect me to open all of them now?” you ask, slightly hypnotised by- well, everything. the gifts, your boyfriend, his touch on your leg.

“you don’t need to. i realise that there’s a lot,” he says, before reaching over for a certain bag. you momentarily glance at the name, brushing it aside as one you recognise before opening it and delicately pulling out what you discover is a dress. unfolding it, you cannot hold back a gasp over how beautiful it is. it’s in your favourite colour and a design you know to be quite flattering on you, and you're awfully comforted by just how well he knows your tastes.

“it’s so pretty!” you hug it against you, the fabric heavenly soft against your skin. “rin, i love it. so much”

a small smile appears on his lips. “i’m glad. there’s more i want you to open, though.”

he picks out a few more boxes, he scanning the variety before choosing the specific one he wanted. the following gifts consist of shoes and jewellery, and you realise that rin’s practically given you a full outfit. “you should wear this to dinner later,” he suggests innocently, as if this wasn’t all planned. 

although you’re weak to his wish, you continue to pick on him a little more. “you think so? it is quite nice, but i already brought a change of clothes. what a shame, i picked your favourite too.”

“y/n,” rin warns, voice lowering.

“i’m merely joking. anything for you, my love. would you like me to try it on?”

he nods eagerly and you laugh, bright and genuine before reaching forwards to seal a lingering kiss against his lips. you try not to melt into the way his fingers curl desperately around your waist, because from his unforgiving grip alone, you can already predict where the night is going. however, you faux ignorance before dancing away and leaving your boyfriend to sit in anticipation. 

you don’t want to keep him waiting too long, though, lest he barge into the room himself and ruin his own gift.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[izicodes]

I've been itching to dive into something totally new and outside of my usual web dev comfort zone! After brainstorming for a while, I finally landed on a brilliant new project idea: building my very own desktop widget~! 

Now, full disclosure—I have zero idea where to even start when it comes to programming a widget, but that’s where the fun comes in, right? I’m all about learning new things (I have an addiction to studying so…)~!

In this post however, I’ll be sharing my initial ideas for the widget and brainstorming what tech stack might bring this amazing idea to life~! 

Prior knowledge on desktop widgets?

All I know is that they stick to the desktop area and some even always in front of the other windows. That’s all I know!

Widget Idea

So, the project idea I’ve chosen is something simple, just so I can get used to making widgets: a notepad. But, it’s not just any plain notepad widget—it’s going to have an aesthetic color scheme! (I know, pretty cool, right?) I really wanted to keep things basic for this first project.

The inspiration actually came from a Pinterest pin that I saved. I think the design is originally from a color palette generator website, but I want to take that concept and turn it into an actual desktop widget. Thus this project was born!

Tech Stack

Alright, I lied—I'm not entirely stepping out of my comfort zone for this one! I'll be using ReactJS, a technology I’m super comfortable with and absolutely love. But to keep things fresh and challenging, I’m diving into something new as well!

After researching (thank you, ChatGPT, Google, and YouTube), I found out there are plenty of ways to build a desktop application, or in this case, a widget. You can go with WinForms, WPF, Tauri (Rust), Qt, and others. But I wanted to stick closer to JavaScript—specifically something I could pair with ReactJS. So, ElectronJS seemed like the best fit.

For this project, my tech stack will be:

ReactJS (JavaScript)

ElectronJS (JavaScript)

SCSS (for those extra styling powers)

HTML (obviously)

Visual Studio Code (with a lovely brown theme 🧸)

Toward the end of the project, I’ll also explore how to package the widget so people can download and install it on their own computers, and how to store the notes locally!

Finally

As I post this I am going to start the project so I will soon post updates! (This is where I fail…!)

[emeritusemeritus]

Exactly my cup of tea. [George Weasley x reader]

Title: Exactly my cup of tea

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor!reader, background mentions of Cho x Harry.

Timeline: Set during OOTP (mentions of Harry and Cho’s canonical date on Valentine’s Day 1996)

Summary: After Harry’s failed date with Cho at Madam Puddifoot’s, he tells the reader and George all about it. They decide to check out the place for themselves.

Warnings: Brief mentions of sexual acts, no smut or detailed description. Friends to lovers. Just a big ball of fluff 🤍

"Ughr I'm telling you, it was awful," Harry groans as he throws himself onto the couch next to you in the Gryffindor common room. George, who is sat opposite you in a little armchair looks up from tinkering with his newest invention and gives Harry a look which tells him to carry on. Harry looks around to check no one is listening in before he continues. "It's that stupid teashop! She talked about Cedric the entire time, cried through most of it and when I briefly mentioned Hermione she stormed off and disappeared."

You and George's eyes met very briefly as you tried to stifle the giggles that were threatening to spill out of both of you at the awfulness of the story but you quickly recovered and tried to console Harry.

"It was probably just too soon mate, she probably felt guilty that she wanted to go out with you so soon after his death," you reasoned, earning a slight nod from Harry, who had listened to your opinion.

"Yeah but how long does she need?" George says with a tone to his voice you couldn't place.

"What, you think she can just get over it like that? If it were-." You began to say, only to cut yourself off sharpish when you realised what the next words out of your mouth would be. George gave you a strange look and Harry seemed to be completely oblivious as you carried on. "It's not the same for everyone, these things take time, especially when it was such a shock like that." Both boys silently agreed and we carried on talking about the whole debacle until Fred and Lee joined later on. Harry had described in excruciating detail the floof and frills of the tea house, with its chintzy furniture and outdated wallpaper that looked like a remnant from someone's great grandmothers house. The conversation quickly diverted as Fred began waffling about an idea for a new product that had piqued George's interest and had lost Harry's.

George tinkered with the project a little while longer whilst Fred talked you into designing new packaging for his new idea and drawing up a basic plan for how he wanted it to look. Only when Lee had fallen asleep and had slunk down and dribbled onto Fred's shoulder did you all declare that it was time for bed, seeing that the common room had been vacated by everyone else hours ago.

"I'll be up in a minute," George says, ushering his brother and a very sleepy Lee away. Fred pauses, waiting for you with an outstretched elbow for you to take but you also say you'd be up later with George so he shrugs and walks off to bed.

"So, Harry and Cho..." George says with a smirk, chuckling to himself. You had to giggle back, finally able to now that everyone had disappeared.

"Do you think she meant to take him there? Like, for the reason everyone else goes?" You asked, still laughing.

George looked up at you with confusion for a second, "what, for tea?"

"No you great oaf, it's where couples go when they want to be alone... away from the prying eyes of Hogwarts," you said with a wiggle of your eyebrows. George's eyebrows shot up high on his head at the information, clearly not knowing it was Hogwarts' number one make out spot.

"Go Cho," George says, his shoulders shaking with laughter, to which you snorted in reply.

"Do you think Madam Puddifoot knows that she's running a teen brothel? Or maybe a live sex show at least." George barks out a laugh that is much too loud for the current time and situation and you both fight to hold back your laughter.

"Probably, she is a Madame after all," George laughs with a shake of his head.

"Maybe she puts something in the tea," you joked, "you and Fred should get on that. Aphrodisiac all sorts," you said cheekily, alluding to the popular liquorice muggle sweets that Arthur was so fond of. He laughed again, finally putting down the invention and assortment of tools.

"Shall we go?" He asks.

You look at him completely dumbfounded at his question, shocked that he'd even ask. Reading your reaction, his eyes immediately shoot open and words fall from his mouth to recover, "I didn't mean like that! We should go tomorrow and scout the place out." You can almost make out a small blush settling on his cheeks and you laugh whilst nodding your head.

"It's a date, Weasley. Dress nice!" You smiled and walked over to him to hug him goodnight, something you had both done for years, before you climbed up the stairs toward your dormitory.

The next morning you dress nicely, choosing a cute skirt and sweater to wear as you prepare to meet George ready for tea. When you walk down the stairs from your dorm you see him sat there with a single flower in his hand. He looked so handsome in his blue floral shirt and nice chinos, apparently having listened to your warning of dressing nice.

He rises as soon as he sees you, smiling as you walk down the stairs and you have to remind yourself briefly that it's a fake date.

"You look really pretty," he says as he hands you the flower, causing you to blush as you smile shyly up at him.

"It's not going to squirt water is it?" You laugh, gesturing to the flower. He looks at you with a puzzled expression, clearly not getting the joke.

"It's a muggle thing, like a magic trick? They have flowers that squirt water, mostly clowns," you explain as his eyes widen.

"Muggles have magic tricks?" He asks in complete astonishment. You laugh, nodding as he continues to look amazed.

"You and Fred should sell some, when you open your shop," you chuckle as he leads you out of the common room and down the staircases.

"One eyed witch or regular walking?" You asked George, preparing how you were going to get to Hogsmeade.

He shoots you a little look before replying with a smirk, "regular, I'm not taking you down one eyed witch in your little skirt."

"God it's like Umbridge threw up in here," you commented as you sat at the intimately small table at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, waiting fir tour tea to arrive, the hideous decor already making you feel claustrophobic.

"Yeah except there's less cats," George mutters, scrunching his face up as he looks around with a loom of utter repulsion.

The exterior of the tea shop should have been enough evidence that the inside was going to be as frilly and pretentious as it was with the powder pink windows and door frames but nothing could have prepared you for this.

There wasn't a single surface inside that wasn't covered in either powderpuff pink, florals or lace. Harry really was telling the truth. There were armoires filled with delicate China teacups and boxed teas that fit the aesthetic of the shop, China plates lined up on the walls alongside some truly hideous artwork of loved up couples and badly painted floral bouquets.

How this place had become a den of inequity you had no idea but there were subtle references to love all around; erotically named teas and treats, picture on the wall that seemed to blend into female silhouettes the longer you looked at it, even some of the cakes on display looked phallic.

You looked around at the couples that were clearly there on dates and had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness of it all. Some couples looked like it was their first date and were sat awkwardly amongst the sea of people clearly much more comfortable and familiar with each other. Some of the boys looked painfully uncomfortable amongst the ostentatious decor, clearly having not chosen the venue of their date. Most couples however were more than comfortable, most of them glued to each other in one way or another.

Your tea was brought over and you thanked the waitress as you poured the tea for you and George. He hadn't said much since you walked in, more silently observing with an outright puzzled and disgusted expression that you couldn't help but chuckle at.

A few couples, particularly near the back were snogging, no doubt regulars on account of their knowledge to sit at the back and wrapped around the little cozy corners.

"Godric, he'll get lost if he gets any further down her throat," you whispered, laughing at a couple far off in the corner, nodding your head subtly towards them so that George could see. He immediately snorted after catching a glimpse of them, looking around to mock more of the patrons.

"How is this place getting couples riled up? It's like my great aunt Muriel's front lounge," George laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well it seems to be working regardless," you chuckle, taking a sip of your tea which was actually quite delicious.

"She's definitely getting fingered under the table," you whisper suddenly, nodding towards a couple in the back you and George had been mocking.

George immediately spits out his tea, eyes bulging at your blunt words making you laugh. He wipes down the front of his shirt as his eyes flick over to the couple in question and he quickly looks away from them realising you're probably right. His reaction was so cute that you couldn't help but laugh, seeing George Weasley shy was an incredibly rare occurrence and you were loving it.

"Cushion in the lap," you nod towards a guy on your left sat with a frilly, heart shaped velvet cushion placed in his lap, "might as well have a sign over his head saying 'I've got an erection," you laugh.

"Girls know this stuff?" George whisper-yells, eyes bugged wide, horrified that you'd apparently cracked guy code.

"Only the bad girls," you wink at him before taking another sip of your tea. You couldn't help but notice George begin to vividly blush, all the way up from his collar to the top of his hairline and you smiled sweetly up at him, finding his reaction entirely too endearing.

You both carried on making fun of the couples around you, happily sipping your tea as you enjoyed spending time with George. He'd become a little less bashful over the course of your visit and had began actively mocking the couples, pointing out particularly aggressive ones and making little quips.

When you walked up to the little counter, the waitress passed over your bill and you began reaching into your bag to pull out your little coin purse. At the same time, George reached into his pocket to pull out his own money but you quickly placed down your money and dragged him out of the tea shop before he could fight you on it.

"Why did you pay?" He asks, frowning as he looks over at you. You smiled sweetly if not a little sarcastically at him as you replied.

"My treat, for you being gentlemanly enough not to feel me up under the table," you joked.

"Not like I wasn't thinking about it," he mumbles, making you pause. His eyes widen at he realises he just said that out loud as you both stand frozen, looking at each other with shocked and surprised eyes. Usually you would have thought nothing of a comment like that coming from George, thinking he was simply teasing you but his reaction told you otherwise.

"What?"

"What?"

"You wanted, with me?" You said in utter shock, wanting him to clarify what he meant. He was blushing again, not as heavily as before but you could definitely detect a pinkness to his cheeks underneath his freckles.

"Yes," he says, looking up at you nervously.

You didn't think twice and immediately stepped forward, shyly pressing your lips to his. He began kissing you back a few seconds later, assuming the shock had settled and he reached delicately for your hip, holding you to him as he kissed you back.

When you pulled apart, you both smiled nervously at each other, letting out a little awkward chuckle at the sudden twist.

"I told you, she puts something in that tea!"

[wszczebrzyszynie]

For some reason i couldnt edit that answer (which is a problem considering i had first saved it in my drafts) so instead ill answer it in form of a post...

First, i just imagine space mining Grian to be a bit more serious than the normal one! That combined with intimidation factor. Maybe i should draw him smiling more. Thats really about it. Have a small Grian design exploration... they use all pronouns in the au

the main thing about Martyns plans and Grian disappearance situation is that Martyn actively didnt want to turn Grian in. The whole thing happens after their big space train robbery and so to the world Grian, Scar and Tango are considered a team, and to Martyn a package deal. He knows he can use Grian (who was on top of everything wounded) to get the other two quite easily, even if both Scar and Tango are considered extremely dangerous (which is true for Scar but couldnt be further from the truth in Tangos case... Martyn also believed that Tango was some respected dangerous criminal at first because thats the main joke), Martyn isnt really... scared of them, ultimately. He knows his chances. What he doesnt know is that Grian and one of the other earthians under Rens command, Bigb, got along very well very quick. This is very much the "earthian trust" ive mentioned in the last ask. So while Martyn plans to stage an an arrest to bait Scar to show up, Bigb (whos a former criminal himself working for Ren in the rehabilitation programme, same as Martyn) and Grian plan their escape. Martyn in the beginning underestimates the bonds people can form (himself believing he can leave Ren anytime he wants if it was in some way profitable for him to do so; whether thats true or not is another thing) a lot, which this situation makes him realize, giving him later the kidnapping Jimmy idea. But for now Bigbs betrayal is not something he anticipated and when he does its too late to do anything big. He still uses it to his benefit and tries to track Grian, hoping he would lead him to the other two, but he fails.

Ren had no idea about any of this, obviously. Not exactly because hes naive, hes well aware Martyn does things behind his back that are less than legal, but he... trusts Martyn to be loyal at the end of it. He firmly believes that no matter what Martyn does he would never end up betraying him, letting Martyn do what he wants and acting like hes unaware. If he knew he would not go with Martyns idea. With Bigb the situation is similar, except Ren doesnt think he would do anything even remotely similar to what Martyn does. Its definitely the more... normal kind of trust he has towards Bigb. Story structure wise, this is the first proper introduction to Martyn as a serious threat, as well as how centralized hunting works. Its a big operation far more exceeding whatever Tango has experienced before

And the last thing... this is far more lighthearted. They met at Jimmys; Scott, even with all the teasing, still cares enough about Jim to check up on him. He feels responsible for Jimmy because he knows Jimmy depends on him, without really caring about his troubles emotionally. Scott just thinks this is the right thing to do and therefore Jimmy is a focus of his (space mining Scott has low empathy. To me). The way Scott views Jimmy definitely plays a huge role in that but his intentions arent out of cruelty. And Tango is practically homeless and sleeping either in his car or (temporarily) on Grian and Scars couch, which is something Jimmy cannot deal with, keeping him at his ranch for far longer than his other visitors. The earthian community focused living; even if its temporary, Tango lives with people Jimmy considers his family, so hes a friend too, meaning he will take care of him just as he does of Scar and Grian. As for how their first meeting went - bad! Scott is a very specific person and even if he isnt unkind, he has... a very strong presence in the room. Far more intimidating than even some bounty hunters Tango met. So while Tango is stressed out with Scott around, feeling like every conversation is a test hes failing, Scott... doesnt think anything specific about Tango. He doesnt think highly of him, thats for sure, but he also doesnt care all that much and is far more interested in the Jimmy side of things. All three ate dinner normally except Tango and Scott played a very pathetic game of 5d chess durning it and Jimmy, being used to how Scott is at all times, was unaware of it

[afyrian]

ch. 5 - yearning for prosperity or love m.list

    the previous night's events replay through your mind like a historical timeline. each part laid out on a line, little times written beside it. events like him inviting you in from the rain, the lights resting behind him like an angelic glow. to him handing off his apron to you, the little consideration boggling your mind.

  things slowly started happening in quicker succession until you find yourself staring him down. it hits you like a truck the moment you see his eyes land on you. the way you would've loved to have tasted the food on his lips, to have felt his hand resting on your cheek. 

  you close your eyes for a moment, wondering how you're getting so caught up on it all. how he can look at you with such a smile that can make you melt. that you can forgo any thought of your customer base dwindling, his restaurant's flair only growing. even now, a few of your students don't want to come due to the parking during rush hours. and it crushes you.

  but he somehow makes you forget it. like some sort of sorcery, you just find yourself biting your lip, pondering what life could look like with him. even now, it's invaded your thoughts so much so that your thumb runs through the mug on your wheel. the shape that you were starting to perfect for the raven's eye diner (in exchange for a few free breakfasts) quickly crumbles under your touch. but you can't help but feel it's his touch.

  you want to blame him for the failed mug, the swirling design now destroyed. the way it lies on the wheel like an amalgamation of your descent into affection and his affect on you. however, your mind can't conjure up ill will for the man. especially as you remember him tying the apron around your waist, his fingers just barely touching your back. his touch sends a shock through you akin to a kiss of death, the death of all things rational.

  however, his touch isn't the only thing that has been sending you into orbit. everything he does has started to worm its way into your life. you've felt like your entire worldview has been flipped on its head, that this one particular man has changed everything for you. something about osamu in particular makes you queasy.

  he could do anything and it could cement itself in your core memories. like when he wiped clay off your face, or sometimes he could just be walking into your shop...

  "i'd love to buy one of your pieces, they're all so beautiful, they really exude you," he mentioned a few days ago, having entered your shop to give you an incorrectly shipped package. 

  there was something about seeing him in casual attire, the way his shirt rests comfortably on him. him holding the package like your packages are so natural in his hands, an edge of domesticity plaguing your mind like a drug. the thought of him bringing in some random thing you ordered online, breaking the seal for you, it’s all to much. 

  imagining it all made it so you couldn't help but offer your services to make him a few specialty pieces. a plate or bowl here, a utensil holder there. however, the thought of making them any less than perfect leaves you procrastinating. 

  ever since you met him, you never would’ve thought of making him pottery. taking the time to create something with your bare hands and hand it to him as a peace offering. especially when you can see how his restaurant is affecting the town. but now? all you want to do is create his own special blend of natural clays to make him a line of plates and bowls. 

  you even wonder if a trinket tray for his personal use would be a divine gift. a way to represent your feelings in a way that doesn’t come outright. but rather, it’s slow and steady, easing your way into it. giving you plenty of time to back out and reconsider everything the second you start to feel uneasy.

  it’s selfish, to yourself and him, but you know you can’t give up either one. not logistically, not when you’re yearning for love instead of prosperity. and not when you’re just now realizing just how sickeningly wonderful loving him feels. 

a/n: i do not want to finish this fic ever 😭 but we still have a few more and an epilogue <33 FORGOT TO ADD: please read raven’s eye diner from mo (guitarstringed-scars), legit so good so far taglist: @causenessus @osakis-gf @eggyrocks @brkfclub @marisabel14

@bbybibi @etoiile @miyamoratsumuu @girlokarina @gsyche

@cherrypieyourface @zephestia @acowboykisser @whosmarjj @gumiiiiezzzz

@guitarstringed-scars @19calicos

[mariacallous]

As national legislation on deepfake pornography crawls its way through Congress, states across the country are trying to take matters into their own hands. Thirty-nine states have introduced a hodgepodge of laws designed to deter the creation of nonconsensual deepfakes and punish those who make and share them.

Earlier this year, Democratic congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, herself a victim of nonconsensual deepfakes, introduced the Disrupt Explicit Forged Images and Non-Consensual Edits Act, or Defiance Act. If passed, the bill would allow victims of deepfake pornography to sue as long as they could prove the deepfakes had been made without their consent. In June, Republican senator Ted Cruz introduced the Take It Down Act, which would require platforms to remove both revenge porn and nonconsensual deepfake porn.

Though there’s bilateral support for many of these measures, federal legislation can take years to make it through both houses of Congress before being signed into law. But state legislatures and local politicians can move faster—and they’re trying to.

Last month, San Francisco City Attorney David Chiu’s office announced a lawsuit against 16 of the most visited websites that allow users to create AI-generated pornography. “Generative AI has enormous promise, but as with all new technologies, there are unintended consequences and criminals seeking to exploit the new technology. We have to be very clear that this is not innovation—this is sexual abuse,” Chiu said in a statement released by his office at the time.

The suit was just the latest attempt to try to curtail the ever-growing issue of nonconsensual deepfake pornography.

“I think there's a misconception that it's just celebrities that are being affected by this,” says Ilana Beller, organizing manager at Public Citizen, which has been tracking nonconsensual deepfake legislation and shared their findings with WIRED. “It's a lot of everyday people who are having this experience.”

Data from Public Citizen shows that 23 states have passed some form of nonconsensual deepfake law. “This is such a pervasive issue, and so state legislators are seeing this as a problem,” says Beller. “I also think that legislators are interested in passing AI legislation right now because we are seeing how fast the technology is developing.”

Last year, WIRED reported that deepfake pornography is only increasing, and researchers estimate that 90 percent of deepfake videos are of porn, the vast majority of which is nonconsensual porn of women. But despite how pervasive the issue is, Kaylee Williams, a researcher at Columbia University who has been tracking nonconsensual deepfake legislation, says she has seen legislators more focused on political deepfakes.

“More states are interested in protecting electoral integrity in that way than they are in dealing with the intimate image question,” she says.

Matthew Bierlein, a Republican state representative in Michigan, who cosponsored the state’s package of nonconsensual deepfake bills, says that he initially came to the issue after exploring legislation on political deepfakes. “Our plan was to make [political deepfakes] a campaign finance violation if you didn’t put disclaimers on them to notify the public.” Through his work on political deepfakes, Bierlein says, he began working with Democratic representative Penelope Tsernoglou, who helped spearhead the nonconsensual deepfake bills.

At the time in January, nonconsensual deepfakes of Taylor Swift had just gone viral, and the subject was widely covered in the news. “We thought that the opportunity was the right time to be able to do something,” Beirlein says. And Beirlein says that he felt Michigan was in the position to be a regional leader in the Midwest, because, unlike some of its neighbors, it has a full-time legislature with well-paid staffers (most states don’t). “We understand that it's a bigger issue than just a Michigan issue. But a lot of things can start at the state level,” he says. “If we get this done, then maybe Ohio adopts this in their legislative session, maybe Indiana adopts something similar, or Illinois, and that can make enforcement easier.”

But what the penalties for creating and sharing nonconsensual deepfakes are—and who is protected—can vary widely from state to state. “The US landscape is just wildly inconsistent on this issue,” says Williams. “I think there's been this misconception lately that all these laws are being passed all over the country. I think what people are seeing is that there have been a lot of laws proposed.”

Some states allow for civil and criminal cases to be brought against perpetrators, while others might only provide for one of the two. Laws like the one that recently took effect in Mississippi, for instance, focus on minors. Over the past year or so, there have been a spate of instances of middle and high schoolers using generative AI to make explicit images and videos of classmates, particularly girls. Other laws focus on adults, with legislators essentially updating existing laws banning revenge porn.

Unlike laws that focus on nonconsensual deepfakes of minors, on which Williams says there is a broad consensus that there they are an “inherent moral wrong,” legislation around what is “ethical” when it comes to nonconsensual deepfakes of adults is “squishier.” In many cases, laws and proposed legislation require proving intent, that the goal of the person making and sharing the nonconsensual deepfake was to harm its subject.

But online, says Sara Jodka, an attorney who specializes in privacy and cybersecurity, this patchwork of state-based legislation can be particularly difficult. “If you can't find a person behind an IP address, how can you prove who the person is, let alone show their intent?”

Williams also notes that in the case of nonconsensual deepfakes of celebrities or other public figures, many of the creators don’t necessarily see themselves as doing harm. “They’ll say, ‘This is fan content,’ that they admire this person and are attracted to them,” she says.

State laws, Jobka says, while a good start, are likely to have limited power to actually deal with the issue, and only a federal law against nonconsensual deepfakes would allow for the kind of interstate investigations and prosecutions that could really force justice and accountability. “States don't really have a lot of ability to track down across state lines internationally,” she says. “So it's going to be very rare, and it's going to be very specific scenarios where the laws are going to be able to even be enforced.”

But Michigan’s Bierlein says that many state representatives are not content to wait for the federal government to address the issue. Bierlein expressed particular concern about the role nonconsensual deepfakes could play in sextortion scams, which the FBI says have been on the rise. In 2023, a Michigan teen died by suicide after scammers threatened to post his (real) intimate photos online. “Things move really slow on a federal level, and if we waited for them to do something, we could be waiting a lot longer,” he says.

[adiluv-moved]

❥ 𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄. ˚⊹꒷

717 words, modern au, obsessive fan behavior, reader is not traveler, not edited.

superfan scaramouche who is absolutely infatuated with you. he's been one of your group's day one fans, his stan account going back even before y'all had blown up in popularity. and you? you've been his bias from the very start, too ꒰a fact he doesn't even attempt to hide꒱—obsession growing all the more rampant with time.

superfan scaramouche who collects all of your merchandise, whether it be official or fan-made. hauls have become a necessary part of his lifestyle, long having adopted the habit of shelling out thousands of mora every month in order to add to his ever-growing collection of albums, photocards, and posters. the wood of his shelves are practically curving beneath the weight of everything, trashcan overflowing from all the packaging he throws out after unboxing everything.

superfan scaramouche who streams these unboxings to his loyal follower-base, the sharp tongue he's become infamous for always being undermined by the adoring smile on his face as he flaunts everything. the sheer extent of his collection has made him a well-known name amongst your fans, merch creators often sending him their newest design ideas and samples for feedback.

he's harsh in his critiques, unhesitating as he point out even the slightest flaws to his audience—especially so when it comes to designs with you. in his mind, if they're going to portray you, then they'd best do it right. other members of your group's fanbase do call him out for this behavior, though he counters saying that creators are already well aware of his temperament when send him anything.

superfan scaramouche who uses his position and wealth as the son of an inazuman politician in order to fund this lifestyle of his, although ei is oftentimes left unimpressed with his dedication to you. as such, she'll occasionally attempt to lecture him about his spending habits, but her words often fall on dear ears as he continues reaching out for his credit card the second your group's official twitter teases at a new release. honestly? the only thing that she manages to accomplish during these 'interventions' is tiring her throat out.

superfan scaramouche who rakes in extra money by capitalizing on his appearance, aware that some of his followers are only really interested with his account because of his breathtaking features. so long as the donations are large enough, he has zero problem flirting with his audience, immediately setting the money he gains from them aside to be spent on you. ironically enough, he can't help but find his admirers pathetic for thirsting over a man that hardly even knows them... despite having the exact same attachment to you.

superfan scaramouche who will get into fights online over your name. anybody who attempts to insult you—even as an off-handed remark—are met with a barrage of harassment from his ꒰many꒱ burner accounts. every aspect of their online persona is scrutinized, attempts to expose his identity met with ever harsher abuse. nearly all of his victims have had to deactivate just for the sake of being left alone, a fact he doesn't feel bad for in the slightest.

superfan scaramouche who attends every. single. one. of your group's events without fail, always making sure to come prepared with gifts and merch for you to autograph. covered in head to toe in bagging clothing, a baseball cap on his head, and a mask to obscure the bottom half of his face—you can't help but feel a little apprehensive when he makes a beeline straight towards you, though your inhibitions are quickly forgotten when the both of you start chatting.

superfan scaramouche who appears totally innocent and unassuming during your conversation, compliments almost falling off his tongue as he sings your praises. he'll comment on the smallest details within your mvs, choreography, outfits—claiming it a shame that you aren't as popular as some of the other members within your group. you eagerly sign the photocard he presents you, telling him to have a nice day before he leaves. it's the only thing he posts about for a week straight.

unbeknownst to you, he records the entire interaction, watching it compulsively to fuel his delusions—convincing himself that you're madly in love with him. needless to say, the charges on his credit card only increase in size afterwards.

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