Chapter Text
The quiet continued, broken only by the hum of the engine as the car sped through the early morning streets.
Seulgi’s tired gaze remained fixed on the horizon, the orange light now washing over her face. There was something comforting about the sunrise, but it didn’t quite reach the deep exhaustion that lingered within her.
Her fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the seat as she mulled over her thoughts.
Nikolai’s eyes flicked to her again, his expression unreadable, but the subtle way his jaw tightened suggested he was thinking as well. He reached for the gearshift, but not before he spoke again.
“You’ve been quiet since we left,” he said, his tone gentle but observant. “Not like you.”
Seulgi tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at the street ahead. “What’s your point?”
He didn’t seem deterred. “I thought you’d have a lot to say about last night.”
“Nothing to say.” she replied quickly, her voice distant. She shifted in her seat.
“Does it bother you?” Nikolai’s voice softened a little more than usual.
“Does what bother me?” She murmured tiredly, blinked, then exhaled slowly.
“The fact that you dragged me into something that has nothing to do with me?”
“Not that,” he said, his eyes flicking over to her briefly before returning to the road. “I meant… the way you shut down. You looked scared.”
She bit back the instinct to brush him off, but it wasn’t so easy anymore. There was something about the way he spoke, like he could see through her, and it made her uneasy.
She stayed quiet for a moment, then muttered, almost to herself, “I’ve been shutting down a lot longer than you think.”
Nikolai glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. He could tell she wasn’t going to open up easily, but that didn’t stop him from pushing just a little. “What happened?”
Seulgi felt the weight of the question, and she almost wanted to laugh, if only because the truth wasn’t something she could share with anyone, let alone someone like him.
She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “What happened? You really want to know?”
“Yeah,” he replied without hesitation. “I do.”
She sighed, her fingers tightening around her coat, her mind running through the years of buried memories she kept locked away.
“It’s not important,” she muttered. “Just… stuff that stays with you. Forever.”
Nikolai said nothing for a long while, as if considering whether to press further or let it go.
Finally, he spoke, voice quiet. “You know, you don’t have to do that.”
Seulgi’s gaze snapped to him, her lips pulling into a tight line. She didn’t respond.
“You don’t know anything about me, Nikolai.” she said finally, her voice cold.
His name rolled off her tongue nicely. He held back a smirk.
“And I don’t need to.” he replied smoothly, his tone almost casual. “Don’t think no one notices how much you’re holding back.”
She turned away, staring out the window again. The silence returned, but it wasn’t as oppressive as before. He wasn’t pushing anymore.
-
The truck rolled to a stop in front of her building, the quiet hum of the engine almost drowned by the distant sounds of the waking city. Seulgi continued to stare out the window, Her hands were wrapped tightly around the fabric of her coat.
Nikolai had remained silent for most of the ride, and she wasn’t sure what to say to him. But there was something she needed to acknowledge, something she couldn’t just ignore.
She turned to face him, her eyes catching his for a brief moment.
“Thanks.” she muttered.
Nikolai didn’t respond right away, his focus still on the road, but his sharp gaze flicked to her. He smiled. She wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something different about the way he was looking at her now.
Then, as if sensing her discomfort, he reached up to adjust the collar of her coat. The motion was almost too casual. his fingers brushing against the fabric near her neck, but it was enough to make her body stiffen. The sudden touch, the way his fingers lingered for just a moment too long, made her twitch.
“Just doing my job.” he said, his tone flat, but there was an undertone of softness.
Seulgi didn’t meet his eyes immediately, trying to shake off the strange feeling; she disliked physical contact. She tugged her coat tighter, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “Yeah.” she muttered, unsure of what to make of it.
But then, as she opened the door to get out, something crossed her mind. She paused, glancing back at him before she could leave the truck.
“Do you have any cigarettes?” she asked quietly, her voice hesitant, like it wasn’t something she would usually admit, but she itched for one and she knew she didn’t have any back home.
Nikolai blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. He lifted a brow, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her. “You smoke?” he asked, his tone somewhere between surprise and curiosity.
“Yeah, I do,” she muttered, glancing down at her hands for a moment before meeting his gaze again, impatient.
“You got any?”
His gaze lingered for a second longer, clearly wondering how old she really was. He thought she was 20 at most, though she did act older. He hadn’t asked, but something about her didn’t seem to fit with the idea of a smoker.
After a hum, he reached into the glove compartment and handed her a pack of cigarettes, watching her eyes silently gleam.
“You know,” he said, almost casually, “I didn’t think you’d be the type.”
She cleared her throat slightly, taking the pack from him and pulling one out, her fingers brushing against his.
“The more you know.” she replied, before sliding out of the truck and shutting the door behind her.
“You’re welcome.” he called after her, his voice still a bit low, but there was a strange, unspoken tension that hung in the air between them.
She walked up the small steps to the entrance, not bothering to look back as she got her recharge—A smoke.
His gaze stayed on her for a moment longer than necessary, watching her push the door open, pulling out a lighter from her coat pocket. He eyed her figure, before the truck rumbled away.
-
Seulgi closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. She was drained, her thoughts scattered, but there was nothing left to do but unwind.
The flat felt quieter than usual, the silence almost too heavy. She tossed her coat onto the chair and walked into her bedroom.
She flopped onto the bed, her legs still hanging over the edge. Her fingers moved absentmindedly, tapping the edges of the cigarette before bringing it back to her lips.
She inhaled deeply, feeling that familiar burn twist in her lungs, filling her with the only warmth she craved.
She thought about nothing in particular at first. Her mind wandered, moving from one thought to another. For a moment, she pictured Nikolai—nothing deep, just random observations. His build was bigger than most men she’d seen, definitely strong, but not in a way that seemed like it would be useful for much. More for show than anything. He’d probably break a man’s ribs with a punch, sure, but she wasn’t sure that would help him out in the long run.
She inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke burn her system. She coughed slightly, fidgeting with the box as she brought it closer to her face, wondering what brand he used. These tasted better than her own.
“He’s got good taste, I’ll give him that.”
She shrugged the thought away. She wasn’t in the mood for it.
Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the cigarette as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The room felt cold, but it was quiet, and that was all she really needed right now. Her head felt lighter, the edges of her thoughts blurring into nothingness as the smoke curled up into the air.
-
It was the same evening.
Nikolai stared at the papers in front of him, his pen poised, yet his mind was far from the report he needed to finish.
The words on the page blurred together, a haze of disconnected thoughts that refused to form into anything coherent.
His eyes kept drifting back to the memory of the interrogation from hours ago.
The man had been uncooperative—too afraid to say much, but he’d hinted at a higher power, a leader that even Nikolai couldn’t quite pin down.
The name wasn’t clear, the threat though, it was tangible.
It gnawed at him, that unease, as if he were missing something obvious.
He couldn’t let go of the thought. Who was this leader? What did they want with him?
The scratch of his pen broke through the noise in his head, but it was fleeting.
Another distraction, one that shouldn’t have been there. The truck ride past midnight, when they were heading back to the barracks.
She’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, her weight resting gently against him. He hadn’t meant to look at her, but her hair had fallen across her face, hiding her features, making her look more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her.
Without thinking, he reached out and brushed the strands of hair away. The movement had been so simple, so small, yet it stuck with him.
He didn’t know why he did it.
For a moment, he had stared at her face, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep, the tension that always seemed to be there absent for just that moment.
He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion or something else that made him feel like he should do something—anything—to keep her from being more than just another complication.
She was just a civilian caught up in a mess she shouldn’t be in. But that moment, when she was so close and so unaware… it did something to him.
His fingers clenched around the pen, his mind racing again. He shook his head, trying to focus, but Seulgi’s face kept resurfacing.
What was he even thinking?
With a frustrated sigh, he pushed the report aside, rubbing his eyes. He needed to finish this. The rest could wait.
-
Palms on the table. Grigoryev had been quiet for a moment before he finally spoke, his tone guarded. “The questioning… didn’t go as planned. The man wasn’t cooperative. Whatever he knew, he kept it locked up.”
Nikolai sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the dim light above him.
His thoughts weren’t entirely on the man they had interrogated, but on the cryptic words he’d uttered, and the lingering feeling that something far bigger was at play here.
“And his boss?” Nikolai asked.
Grigoryev hesitated, his eyes flicking to the papers in front of him before answering. “No new information. There’s something we’re not seeing, Nikolai. Someone higher up—someone he’s protecting.”
He paused, eyes narrowing. “The way he reacted… I don’t think he’s telling us everything.”
Nikolai’s mind immediately wandered back to the man’s final remark, the one that had echoed in his mind long after he’d left the interrogation room. Whoever this boss was, it was clear they were not messing around. And Nikolai had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
“I’ll get answers,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than to Grigoryev. “Sooner or later, they’ll crack.”
Grigoryev nodded but didn’t say anything further, as if he could sense the tension gnawing at his superior. Instead, he shifted the topic. “And the girl?”
Nikolai’s jaw tightened at the mention of Seulgi. For a moment, he let the silence settle, before finally answering, his tone a little sharper than he intended. “She’s just… a complication. Nothing more.”
Grigoryev looked unconvinced, but he wisely chose not to press further. Instead, he stood up, his boots thudding heavily against the floor. “Just don’t let it cloud your judgment, Nikolai. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
Nikolai didn’t respond. His mind was still elsewhere—on the man in the interrogation room.
-
Seulgi sat alone at the corner table in a bar that wasn’t familiar to her.
It was dim, the air thick with a blend of smoke, the faint hum of chatter, and clinking glasses.
The low rumble of a jazz band filtered through the walls, but it was muted enough not to demand attention.
The bar itself was nothing special—a place for people to come in for a drink, a moment of forgetfulness. For Seulgi, it was a place to exist without being noticed.
She didn’t care for the liquor here, didn’t like it. But she liked the atmosphere, the way the dim lighting seemed to filter out the unnecessary. The bartender, knowing better than to engage her, kept the glass of water she’d asked for full and left her to her solitude.
She didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to perform or entertain. Tonight, she was just a spectator, observing.
Her gaze drifted across the room, studying people as they moved and interacted.
There was a couple at the bar, speaking in low tones but leaning in too close, their heads tilted in unison as they exchanged words.
Seulgi noticed how their eyes never quite left each other, how the space between them seemed to shrink despite the crowded bar. She could see the way their hands brushed lightly against each other, how the woman’s fingers lingered, almost absentmindedly tracing the outline of the man’s palm. Seulgi found the gesture oddly alien to her, the subtlety of it. She couldn’t relate to the ease of it, the way they were so comfortable with each other’s presence.
To her, touch was foreign, it was a fleeting thing she didn’t understand and preferred to avoid. She wondered if it was because she didn’t know how to feel that way about anyone.
A loud laugh echoed from the other end of the bar, a man clapping his companion on the back as if the gesture somehow carried weight. The sound was sharp in her ears, and her brow furrowed.
There was something almost mechanical about the way people expressed themselves, like they were acting out a role.
She wondered if anyone really understood the meaning behind the gestures they made—how much of it was instinct and how much was learned. She had studied people for years, mostly through song lyrics, lyrics that told a story of emotions she couldn’t quite grasp.
The physical part, the way people expressed those emotions with their bodies—hands, posture, glances, that was another story entirely. There was no piano here, no rhythm to guide her. Just a sea of movements she couldn’t quite decipher.
Seulgi’s hand reached up, tugging the collar of her jacket higher around her neck, hiding herself further. She leaned back in her seat, watching a group of friends at a nearby table, the way they shifted when someone spoke—leaning in, then pulling away, gestures punctuated by laughter, laughter that didn’t sound real but still filled the space. Everything was so loud, even when it was quiet.
She shifted in her seat, staring at a man sitting alone by the window, his fingers tapping absently on the glass. She wondered if he was thinking about something—or if he was just waiting for something, anything, to give him a reason to move.
Was he thinking about the future? Was he imagining something that hadn’t happened yet? Did he even know who he was talking to, or was he just rehearsing words in his head? Seulgi couldn’t say. She didn’t know why it felt so lonely to watch them, why it was so unsettling to see all these interactions, and yet still feel so detached from them.
When she stood up to leave, a flash of movement caught her attention. A couple was standing in the alleyway just outside the bar, their bodies pressed together in a blur of heated, desperate contact. She paused, her hand gripping the door as she watched them. She saw how the woman’s hands gripped the man’s jacket, how the man’s breath hitched against her neck as his palms rode up her sides. It was the sort of thing that could have been seen as beautiful, as passionate, but to Seulgi, it was simply… confusing.
What was it about this physical need, this craving for contact, that made people lose control of themselves? Why were they so desperate to prove they could be wanted, needed, desired? She had seen this before, this need for connection, and yet she couldn’t quite understand it.
Her chest tightened as she pulled the door open, stepping out into the cool night air. She didn’t want to think about it any longer. She started walking, her steps quick, trying to shake the image of the couple from her mind.
But as she walked further down the street, the sense of loneliness returned. She had always believed she was fine alone, that she preferred it.
But every time she encountered moments like this, where emotions ran raw and unchecked—she found herself questioning if she was really as indifferent as she liked to think.
And deep down, she couldn’t help but wonder: was this what it meant to be human? To feel everything, even if you didn’t understand it?
-
Smoke curled upwards as his gaze was distant, far out the window of his apartments room. He leaned back on the edge of the bed, the crumpled sheets beside him were a visual reminder of the past few hours.
It reeked of sweat and alcohol.
His mind, however, wasn’t in the room. It was far away, still tangled in the mess from earlier. The interrogation. The leader. That nagging sense that something much bigger than he was brewing in the background, something was out to get him at any given moment.
He took a drag of his cigarette, the taste bitter on his tongue. His eyes were heavy, clouded with exhaustion, but his thoughts wouldn’t settle. He needed to move, to figure out what to do next, but every time he tried to focus on the details, it slipped away.
The soft shuffle of the sheets was heard, but not quite acknowledged. A small groan, then a whimper.
He could feel her shift beside him, the bed creaking slightly under her weight. Then, with a smooth motion, she raised her arm, taking the cigarette from his hand, the tip glowing orange before she lowered it to her laying bare body, placing it between her own lips.
“You know,” she said, her voice laced with sleep, “you’re awfully quiet for someone who just had a good time.”
Nikolai’s gaze flicked to her, briefly, then back to the cigarette she now held. The words didn’t seem to register immediately. He wasn’t sure what he felt about her being here. He wasn’t sure what he even felt about himself right now.
“Something on your mind?” she continued, puffing on the cigarette, her tone slightly more insistent. The other hand went to her blonde hair. “I don’t like being ignored.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. His eyes were distant, unfocused, staring at the wall as if it could offer him answers.
“Yeah,” he muttered eventually, as if trying to answer, but his mind wasn’t with her. “Just thinking.”
Her lips twisted into a faint frown as she took another drag. She wasn’t used to being treated this way, not by him, not by anyone. She leaned closer, resting her hand on his arm, her fingers brushing against his skin.
“Don’t think too hard,” she said softly, her voice almost coaxing. “Come on, one more round… maybe it’ll take your mind off whatever’s bothering you.”
Nikolai’s gaze shifted to her then, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were darker now, a mixture of irritation and something else. He hadn’t been able to push away the thought of what he was involved in, but the woman beside him was trying to pull him back into something mindless, something easy .
He didn’t answer right away. She made another move to kiss him, and in a moment of resignation, he gave in. His lips met hers, not with any passion, but just to shut her up.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. It was just a way to numb the tension in his mind, to momentarily forget the weight of everything that was pressing down on him by a routine he was used to.