Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The court was plunged into a dim light, the atmosphere full of waiting and tension. Allen, a young prosecutor with determined eyes, stood in the centre of the courtroom across from the defendants' bench. The session started an hour ago, and he was about to present his evidence for the most complex case of his career.

The judge, sitting on the bench, watched with a watchful eye. To his right, the jury listened silently, taking notes. On Allen's left, the defense attorney, a man in a dark suit, prepared to counter every argument with relentless precision.

Allen stood up and addressed the court. « Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, today we will prove beyond reasonable doubt that the defendant, Mr. Park, is guilty of the charges against him. We will present testimony and evidence that clearly demonstrates his involvement in the abduction of the victim, Mr. President. Lee."

He made a gesture to the screen at the back of the room, which lit up to display a series of photos and documents. The eyes turned to the screen as Allen laid out the evidence, methodically detailing the elements of the case.

Whispers among the audience and jurors were smothered. Allen knew every word mattered. The trial was not only a test of his legal competence, but also a quest to bring justice to a case that had upset the entire community.

The session was held with palpable intensity until suddenly the tumult broke out in the courtroom. A growing whisper quickly turned into a chaotic brouhaha when defence lawyers and members of the public began to stir. Debates were becoming increasingly noisy and messy.

The judge, with a harsh expression, struck his hammer against the bench, "Order in the court !" he ordered. But the noise kept going, and the growing confusion prevented the trial from proceeding.
Allen, although slightly bewildered by the disorder, remained calm. He stood up, trying to figure out the source of the tumult. It was then that a group of people, some of whom appeared to be supporters of the accused, rose in droves, protesting loudly against the conduct of the trial.

The judge stood up, looking stern, and declared firmly,
« Owing to the disruptions and disorganization in the Chamber, I am compelled to suspend the session until further notice. »

Allen exchanged a concerned look with his team, aware that the interruption could complicate matters. The judge asked security personnel to calm the situation and evacuate the disruptive individuals. In the meantime, jurors were invited to withdraw to an adjoining room to await the resumption of the hearing.

Allen headed to the corner of the room, looking to gather his thoughts and prepare the rest. This unexpected setback could be an opportunity for the prosecution or a major complication depending on how it is handled.
In the meantime, he tried to determine how to resume his argument once the meeting had been re-established, but wondered whether the suspension might reveal unforeseen elements for the trial.

"Pssst, Allen" His gaze went towards a male voice calling him away. It was Mark, a lawyer and close friend of Allen's. They studied at the same law university in the United States and became very close when they learned that they both wanted to go to South Korea.

"Is there a problem, hyung?" Swished Allen after getting close to his friend.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something for a while, and I'm taking advantage of the suspension of the session to talk to you about it." Whispered Mark, biting his lip nervously.

"Tell me everything, Hyung." Allen had never seen his friend as serious as he did now, except in court sessions. He was worried about it.

"You promise not to tell anyone else?" Allen nodded actively. Allen was a boy you could trust, even before he became a prosecutor, he was this friend you could confide in without a hitch.

Mark looked around, checking to see if the people in the room were busy doing their own stuffs. As soon as he thought the session won't resume for a while, he turned to Allen.

"Okay" blew out his friend, "Well, you need to know that in Seoul, mobs and gangs are rampant, and they're causing trouble." Allen nodded.

It is true that these groups are giving a hard time to the Korean justice system, which is trying to stop them, but to no avail. They've been walking the streets of Seoul for years, sowing terror, but nothing has done about it, no police officer can't help but see them.

"Yesterday, my girlfriend's brother told me something really interesting. He thought he found the Vipers gang's hideout."

"The Vipers gang ?" Almost shouted Allen, who was covered in Mark's mouth with a sharp gesture, his eyes wide open. It seemed no one heard him, since Mark blew his fingers off.

"Lower idiot, no one should know."

"But hyung, we're talking about the same gang? The vipers gang, the gang which is so stealthy you'd think it's just a legend?"

"Yes, that's them. I know it sounds crazy, but it's real."

"Hyung, how could your girlfriend's brother see their hiding place?" Even the most experienced police in Korea never saw them..." blew Allen's eyes at his friend, frowning.

"I don't know that. He didn't tell me anything more, he didn't want to worry his sister, I guess. And I didn't wanted to worry my girlfriend too. She is so stressed about my job actually. But by the way, there's a reason I'm talking about this. Do you feel like seeking up their hideout together tonight ?"

A silence is what came between the two men. Allen didn't know what to say. His friend had just put that subject on the table without any transition. Looking for the hideout of the most wanted gang in the whole country ? Did Allen feel he could do that? He doesn't know. But what he knew was that this plan was suicide.

"Hyung, I..." Allen began, his gaze lost on the ground.

"Don't feel obligated, Allen, but I'm sure we could make a good team together. Imagine if we could catch them, we'd be known as the city's vigilantes!" Mark almost exclaimed, a smile far too bright for the actual subject.

"I...Hyung, I don't know if I can make it."

"Imagine yourself, on TV news and newspapers, known as the American hero who saves Seoul himself, wouldn't you like it?" Carried on his friend, still with his shiny expression.

"Yes, but-".

"Great ! I knew i could count on you my friend ! So we'll meet tonight in front of the restaurant we often go to, okay?" Mark spoke so fast without stopping and giving a glance to his friend, turning to his place.

Allen was so screwed.

---

The American was outside, alone, in the cold, at night. Normally, Seoul is crowded at this hour, unfortunately where he is, it is not frequented by many people. He didn't know why Mark asked him to meet here. Now that Allen thought about it, he didn't tell him where their hideout was either. Don't get him wrong, Allen trusted his friend, but he didn't trust his friend's fucked-up plan.

He didn't even agree to it, and even if he did, it would be just for politeness. Allen was always that polite, kind, benevolent boy, the one we'd like to introduce to our parents. Living away from his family also made him mature, and while he missed his family very much, he felt good here. He's never been in a relationship, either, never really interested. Since he was little, school and its success have always been his priority, although he feels a little lonely every now and then in his little apartment.

Allen's phone vibrates in his pocket, it was his friend who warned him he was going to be 30 minutes late. Allen blew. Great, he's gonna have to wait a long time in the cold.
If it wasn't for such an important "mission," he'd be gone by now. The Vipers are a very feared gang in Korea, and as a representative of justice, he only wants it gone. If they found several clues about this gang, they could report it to the police, and they could finally catch them. You'd think he was just looking for recognition. Allen's not looking for glory, he's looking for peace.

While he was shivering in the cold, he thought he might take a walk to warm himself up. He's in Seoul's streets, nothing could have happened to him, right?

He starts walking with his hands in the pockets of his big coat, wrapped like a penguin in his fur. He admired the brightness of the streets' capital. Seoul has always been his dream city. As an Asian, Korea was sold to him as the best country on the continent, with a good livelihood and warm people. He was happy to live there, dreaming of a lively city, like Los Angeles, the city where he grew up as a teenager. But he didn't expect gangs to have that kind of power over the city. No one in the population talks about it, but they all know it. They know criminal organizations are hiding. But they prefer to ignore, maybe to protect themselves, Allen thought.

He'd been walking for a few minutes, he'd come up against a deserted street, not a cat was moaning. Normally, Allen would have been scared and turned back, but now he didn't want to. No, it was not the urge, it was the curiosity.

Allen is a man full of curiosity, wants to know everything and find out something new, and he knew if he kept going, he was gonna know something new. Just a hunch.

So he went on, his footsteps followed in a frequent rhythm. Fresh air landed on her soft-skinned face like a baby's. Walking at night was a completely different feeling, he felt much lighter, much freer. So he walked, over & over & over & over...

"NO!"

A scream. Allen had just heard a man's cry, angry he assumed. He stopped, a shiver ran down his spine. He looked around him, but he didn't see anyone.

He reassured himself as he could, maybe it was just a man arguing with his friend, his wife, his children, and as a prosecutor, he often faced conflicts in the middle of a courtroom. A couple who want a divorce, a citizen who comes to press charges against a harassment, the victim or the family of the victim who wants to attack the executioner violently. Yeah, he was often in the face of conflict, so he shouldn't have been afraid of that.

"Come back here!"

Another scream, it seemed much closer. He also heard footsteps.

Steps that come closer.

Allen knew he had to get out of here, but he couldn't. His body was paralyzed from head to foot. He didn't know what to do.

The footsteps are closing in.

It distinguishes two pairs of feet. This must be a chase. He finds himself facing a case he had never faced before.
Orally, Allen always had the last word, but physically, he didn't have the same command.

They're getting closer. They were only a few feet away from him.

He was already imagining the worst. What if these men knew that a man of justice had gone looking for their hiding place, what if he was going to lock him up and torture him to reveal all the secrets of the state to them, what if he just killed him?

The men are nearby.

Suddenly Allen finds a heroic force and starts running to hide in the nearest alley, carpeted in the shadows. He kneels on the floor, slams himself against a garbage dumpster. Trying to get down on the ground quickly, but Allen hurt his knee, tearing his pants. He groaned in pain, but tried to cover his sounds, his breath shaking.

No more noise.

Allen didn't dare look around. He preferred to wait as long as he could, until the danger was far away.
He knew this rendezvous wasn't safe, but he didn't think he was going to be in an alley,  fear being the only feeling he felt. He curses himself for not standing in front of the restaurant. He also curses his curiosity. We always said, "Your curiosity will kill you one day," and Allen thought it was the best use of that expression.

He tried to pull out his phone very gently to warn his friend, but suddenly hands came to grip his throat making him stand up and put him on the wall.

"Ah!" Allen lets out a groan of pain from his body's contact against the wall.

"Who are you? Are you a friend of his?" Hurled his assailant.

Allen hardly opens his eyes to examine his attacker. He was an Asian, brown-haired, his lower face was covered in cloth.
He put his hands on the man's, trying to get away from him, but he held his grip.

"Answer my question, asshole, are you one of his  subordinate or not?" The man approached the American, gluing their two bodies together. Allen was completely locked up.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about" he felt he was gradually losing consciousness. He has to find a solution.

"Don't fuck with me, you bastard, tell me or I'll kill you!" The man shaked him, his anger possessed all of his body.

Allen only had one solution.

"Ah, motherfucker!"

Knee him between his legs.The man twisted in pain, loosening his grip on the prosecutor, who started running out of the alley. Allen first discovered survival instinct, and he wasn't lying when he said it saved a lot of people. Unfortunately, his knee pain quickly brought him back to reality, and he stopped in the middle of his race. Behind him, he felt the man come back to the charge. His was trying to run, but he couldn't. Allen was screwed. The man was gonna pull out his gun, and kill him right now.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!"

Allen closed his eyes, ready for the fatal blow.

One shot.

Allen's fine. He heard a body fell, but it was not his. Was death so peaceful and painless?
He waited a while before turning around, and saw the man's body on the ground, a gaping hole in his back.

"I've always told him that his screams would backfire on him."
He looked up to his voice, and saw a man with black hair, tall and muscular body. He held a gun in his right hand. He had just saved his life.

The man crossed his eyes, and Allen got a chill. Unlike his attacker, he wasn't dressed in a cloth that covered his face. He noticed some scratches, as well as on his hands, indicating that he had fought previously.

"You shouldn't stay here, kid." The man's voice awakened him from his contemplation.

"Thank you so much for saving me!" Allen bowed as a token of gratitude. His savior lets out a laugh.

"I didn't do it for you. I had some unfinished business with this guy. I advise you to go home now, kid, because they'll be here soon." The man put his gun away, and searched his victim's body.

"They ? Who are they?" Asked Allen, curious.

The black man raised his eyebrows, amused, "You're very curious. But it's none of your business. Go home quickly, before it's too late. I won't save you twice, know it." Said the man, standing up and laying a hand on Allen's shoulder.

When Allen's eyes crossed Serim's, he felt a wave of uneasiness mixed with fascinated curiosity. Serim's eyes, of piercing intensity, seemed to cross the veil of his thoughts, revealing a disturbing depth. They were dark, almost abysmal, like endless wells where complex emotions were reflected.

Suddenly, screams were heard at the other end of the avenue.

"Shit, they're here. I'm not kidding, kid, leave before they find you." Said the man, turning to leave, too.

"Wait, can I at least know the name of the person who saved me?"

The black man turned around, his absorbing eyes meeting Allen's.

"Serim. Park Serim."

Chapter Text

The next morning, Allen woke with a strange feeling, a mix of confusion and disbelief. The events of the previous day were still fresh in his mind, like a scene he struggled to unravel. He got up, his movements slow and hesitant, still numb from the shock and exhaustion. The memory of the incident continued to haunt him.

As he prepared for the new day, Allen felt a latent tension in the air, as if something greater than himself was about to be revealed. He kept thinking about the fear he had felt and the strangeness of the situation, each detail replaying in his mind.

Upon arriving at the courthouse, Allen encountered Mark, who immediately approached him. Right after the incident the day before, Allen had sent a message to Mark to postpone their mission to another day, without providing further details.

“Hey Allen, how are you? What happened yesterday? I hope everything’s okay?” Mark asked, concern evident in his voice as he noticed the prosecutor’s expression.

Allen gave a gentle smile and shook his head. “It was nothing, don’t worry. I just wasn’t feeling well yesterday,” he lied.

Allen had no choice. He didn’t want to alarm his friend unnecessarily, especially before he understood what had really happened.

But there was another reason: he was determined to learn more. Who was the man who attacked him? Which organization did he work for? These questions kept swirling in his mind, preventing him from focusing on anything else. Allen knew he wouldn’t find peace until he got some answers.

“Allen, are you listening?” Mark asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Allen jumped, causing his friend to laugh. “Ah, you weren’t listening. That’s so like you, Allen!” Mark joked.

“Sorry, Hyung, I was lost in thought. What were you saying?” Allen replied, embarrassed.

“I was saying we could go another night. Just let me know when you’re ready. I’m sure we could get some good leads if we start looking for their hideout,” Mark said, still enthusiastic.

Allen knew that if he and Mark decided to track down the Vipers’ hideout, they might finally get crucial clues. The idea of going up against such a feared organization seemed bold, even suicidal, but he felt it was key to understanding what happened the previous day. The Vipers were known for their secrecy and their ability to evade law enforcement, but Allen believed that with the right strategy, they could track them, spot their movements, and maybe find that secret hideout where everything was orchestrated.

And then, he might cross paths with Serim again. He couldn’t shake the memory of the stranger who had saved him. The image of the man, appearing out of nowhere to pull him out of the desperate situation he was in, remained etched in his mind. Who was he really, and why had he intervened? His features, though guarded and inscrutable, had left a lasting impression on Allen. A face marked by experience, perhaps even pain, but one that seemed to hide a quiet strength. Allen couldn’t help but wonder if this man, whom he barely knew, held the answers to the questions tormenting him.

“We can go tomorrow night,” Allen said, surprising himself with the determination in his voice.

“Great! Tomorrow night, as usual, in front of the restaurant!” Mark exclaimed with a wink. “Let’s go, we need to join our teams.”

---

Being a prosecutor was truly exhausting. It was 9 PM when Allen finally returned home. That evening, he was invited to dinner at his friends’ place, which was conveniently located nearby.

His integration into Korea had not been as difficult as he had imagined. When he first arrived at his new apartment, his neighbor—who had since become a friend—welcomed him with cakes as a gesture of goodwill. He also mentioned that he lived in the apartment next door with his boyfriend. They quickly became friends, and Allen was introduced to their circle. Allen had never been more grateful to have such an outgoing neighbor.

After a quick glance in the mirror, he rushed to the door and rang his friend’s bell. Within seconds, a young man with brown hair and sparkling eyes opened the door, a radiant smile on his face.

“Leonie-Hyung, you’re finally here!” Hyeongjun exclaimed, throwing himself into Allen’s arms.

“Hey, Hyeongjunie, it’s been a while,” Allen replied, hugging him and patting his head.

“Yes, and it should be illegal not to see each other more often, especially since we live next door!”

“Oh, Allen Hyung, you’re here. Come in, everyone is already here,” said Hyeongjun’s boyfriend, Minhee. “Junnie, let him go, you’re going to suffocate him,” Minhee joked with a laugh.

“Oh sorry! I might have been a bit too excited to see you... Come to the table, they were eager to see you,” Hyeongjun exclaimed, pulling Allen by the wrist.

Allen followed Hyeongjun through the apartment, carried along by his friend’s contagious enthusiasm. When they reached the dining room, Allen was greeted by a chorus of joyful voices.

“Allen hyung ! Finally, you’re here!” Taeyoung exclaimed, sitting next to Seongmin with a broad smile. Seongmin, a bit more reserved, merely raised his hand in greeting, though his bright eyes betrayed his joy at seeing Allen.

“It’s been a while, hyungie. How are you?” asked Minjae with a teasing grin, while Junmin, his boyfriend elbowed him to quiet him. “Minjae-ah, give him time to sit down!” Junmin replied with a laugh.

Wonjin, leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Allen hyung, you’re late. We were about to finish dinner without you!”

Allen laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry! I had a long day, but I’m glad to be here.” He took a seat at an empty chair across from Wonjin and Junmin, while Hyeongjun took a seat beside him, his face glowing with contentment.

“So, Allen hyung,” began Seongmin, trying to hide a smirk. “How’s the court going? I heard things are particularly tense lately.”

Allen sighed slightly, feeling the weight of his day still on his shoulders. “Tense is an understatement,” he replied with a forced smile. “The days are long and the nights even longer. But I’m trying to hang in there.”

“It’s tough, but you always manage, as usual,” Taeyoung said with an encouraging smile, exchanging a knowing look with Seongmin, who nodded silently.

Minhee, serving drinks, leaned in to place a glass in front of Allen. “You look exhausted. You really should take it easy.”

“Yes, I know,” admitted Allen, touched by his friends’ concern. “But it’s not always easy. Thankfully, I have evenings like this to take my mind off things.”

“And that’s what we’re here for,” Junmin said, raising his glass. “Let’s toast to this evening with friends. And especially to you, our Allen hyung, for all the hard work you do.”

All the glasses were raised in unison, while Allen, slightly moved, raised his own in return. “Thanks, guys. Really. You’re the best.”

“And don’t worry,” added Wonjin with a sly smile. “We’ll make sure you have an evening without thinking about work, right, guys?”

“Exactly!” Minjae replied enthusiastically. “Tonight, it’s all about relaxation and good times.”

Allen relaxed a bit more, surrounded by his friends. The conversation continued, filled with laughter and anecdotes, and for a moment, he managed to set aside the troubling events of the previous day, simply enjoying the present with those who mattered most to him.

At the same time, in another part of the city, the night brought no peace for Serim. While Allen enjoyed a relaxing evening with his friends, Serim moved through a very different world, one of solitude and darkness.

Serim was a man of few words, his thoughts constantly focused on his mission. His days were structured around this obsession. He woke early, even before the sun rose, to train. Hours of combat, weapons handling, and survival techniques. Everything that could help him achieve his goal.

At night, Serim roamed the streets of Seoul, always alert, always searching for information. He knew every alley, every dark corner where criminals hid. The faces of the men who had destroyed his life haunted him, and he pursued them relentlessly, tracking any clue that might bring him closer to them. He was methodical, ruthless, and above all, patient. He never acted on impulse, preferring to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Serim allowed himself no respite. Even when he briefly rested in a rundown apartment he used as a hideout, his thoughts were always on his next target. He lived for the action, the thrill of danger, but most of all, for the satisfaction of seeing, one by one, those responsible for his pain fall.

He permitted himself no distractions, no attachments, no friendships. Each night, as others found solace in the arms of their loved ones, Serim delved deeper into the darkness that had consumed his heart. Nothing else mattered to him. Nothing except his vengeance.

Chapter Text

Allen was waiting, leaning against a lamppost, the street bathed in the yellowish glow of the streetlights. He glanced at his watch. Mark wouldn’t be long now. They had arranged to meet here to finally set off in search of the Vipers' hideout, but a doubt lingered in Allen’s mind. He tried to stay calm, but something didn’t feel right.

A few minutes later, Mark appeared, walking briskly up the street. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders. “Ready to go?”

Allen nodded but couldn’t help asking the question that had been haunting him ever since they had agreed on this meeting. “Mark Hyung, how do you know exactly where their hideout is?”

Mark shrugged with a small, confident smile. “It’s my girlfriend’s brother. He sometimes hangs out in shady places, and he heard about a warehouse the Vipers are using for their business. I thought it was worth checking out.”

Allen frowned, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “Yeah, you already told me that. And he didn’t tell you that earlier, when we were supposed to go two days ago? That would have been helpful, instead of us meeting up without a clear direction.”

Mark sighed, as if he had expected the question. “Yeah, it’s a bit weird, I know. But he wasn’t 100% sure at the time. He wanted to confirm the info before passing it on to me. It was only later that night that he messaged me, when you told me you weren’t feeling well and canceled. I didn’t want to tell you right away to avoid confusing you with unreliable info.”

Allen listened carefully, but something told him that this didn’t quite add up. He wasn’t the type to doubt his friends, but this was serious business. The Vipers weren’t to be taken lightly. “Are you sure about your source, Hyung?” he asked, trying to hide his suspicion.

Mark smiled slightly, raising his hand to ease his friend’s doubts. “Relax, Allen. It’s a solid lead, I can feel it. We’ve got nothing to lose by checking it out, right?”

Allen didn’t reply immediately. He simply nodded, trying to push away his doubts. Maybe Mark was right. They had nothing to lose, but the weight of the night ahead already felt heavy on his shoulders.

As they walked, Allen couldn’t help but recognize the streets they were passing through. That night, he had felt an odd unease while walking these deserted alleys, as if every shadow hid an invisible threat. That same feeling was returning now, even stronger. The night’s cold mixed with a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck, but he forced himself to stay silent. Mark knew nothing of that evening in this neighborhood, and Allen preferred not to worry him.

The path they were taking was strangely deserted, as if people instinctively avoided this area. The closer they got, the more Allen’s unease grew. This time, he wasn’t just an observer in these dark streets; he was a potential target. But he couldn’t say anything to Mark. How could he explain to his friend that every street corner, every darkened nook reminded him of an imminent danger, a barely concealed threat? He clenched his teeth, hiding his worries behind a mask of determination.

“We’ll turn here,” Mark said, taking a turn down a damp, dark alley. They were moving away from the spot where Allen had been attacked—and saved—and he couldn’t help but let out a slight sigh of relief.

As the night deepened, Allen and Mark made their way through narrow alleys, passing rundown and abandoned buildings. The oppressive atmosphere of the place only heightened Allen’s anxiety. Every step brought them closer to the place they were looking for, yet a growing unease weighed on him.

“We’re almost there,” Mark murmured, glancing around.

Ahead of them stood a ruined building, once a warehouse, now half-collapsed under the weight of time and neglect. Graffiti covered the walls, broken windows gave a glimpse of the darkness inside, and the crumbling façade seemed ready to collapse at any moment.

“You think this is it?” Allen asked, eyeing every corner warily.

Mark nodded, squinting. “This has to be the place. It’s the spot he told me about. An old warehouse the Vipers supposedly took over to use as their temporary hideout.”

Allen observed the place, his heart beating a little faster. The building seemed empty, but he knew appearances could be deceiving. “We’ll take it slow. If this really is their hideout, they won’t let strangers get close without reacting.”

They exchanged a look, Mark with his usual confidence, and Allen, more nervous, but determined to see this through.

“We’ll go in through the back,” Mark murmured, pointing to a hidden door partially obscured by debris. “That’s probably where they are.” Allen nodded, giving one last look around before motioning for Mark to follow him.

The moment of truth had arrived. They were finally going to discover what the Vipers were hiding, and perhaps, find the answers Allen had been desperately searching for.

Suddenly, Mark grabbed Allen by the sleeve, pulling him against the wall of the alley. Allen was startled by the sudden gesture but remained silent when he saw the serious expression on his friend’s face, who was staring intently at something.

Hidden in the shadows of a ruined wall, they watched closely as a group of men appeared in front of the dilapidated building. There were at least three of them, all dressed in worn clothes, looking relaxed but with a palpable tension in their movements.

One of the men, shorter than the others, stepped forward and said something that made his companions smile. The words were inaudible to Allen and Mark, but the casual tone and muffled laughter hinted at a certain familiarity. Focusing, Allen noticed a distinctive tattoo on one of the men’s arms—a black snake coiled around a dagger.

“They’re Vipers,” Mark murmured, squinting his eyes. There was no more doubt now. “Low-level guys, not the ones running things.”

The men seemed comfortable, as if they were on familiar ground, but this run-down building didn’t match the idea of a real gang headquarters. “This doesn’t look like their main base,” Allen whispered, still cautious. “But it could be a transit point.”

The three men approached the decrepit door of the building, and without a word, one of them pushed it open, revealing an entrance inside. They quickly entered, as if they did this every day.

The two friends exchanged a look. They were faced with a dilemma: follow them inside or wait outside to avoid being spotted.

“What do we do?” Mark asked, uncertain, his heart racing.

Allen hesitated. Every fiber of his being told him that if they went inside, they could gather valuable information, but the danger was real. Finally, he straightened slightly. “We follow them,” he murmured. “But we stay low. If it’s a dead end, we get out fast.”

Mark nodded, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. Together, they slowly moved toward the door, their breaths shallow, and then slipped into the building, the tension thick in the air around them.

Inside, the building was even more rundown than the outside. The walls were cracked, chunks of the ceiling had fallen to the ground, and the light was dim, filtering through a few broken windows. A musty smell lingered in the air, adding a sinister ambiance to the place.

Allen and Mark advanced cautiously, their steps barely audible on the dusty floor. A few meters ahead of them, the three Vipers’ lackeys continued on their way, chatting softly. They seemed to know this place inside out, as if it were a regular meeting spot for them.

Allen’s heart raced as he assessed the situation. If this was a temporary hideout, there could be clues about the gang’s activities or valuable information. But they had to remain careful, as the slightest misstep could give them away.

“Look, they’re heading for the basement,” Mark whispered, pointing to a poorly lit concrete staircase, half hidden by debris.

The men slowly descended, their voices fading as they disappeared into the darkness of the basement. Allen hesitated for a second. Going down into that confined space increased the risk, but that was probably where everything was happening.

“Should we keep going?” Allen whispered, visibly tense.

Mark nodded. “We don’t have a choice. But be careful, stay behind me.”

They approached the staircase and, without a sound, began to descend. Each step creaked under their weight, but fortunately, the lackeys below seemed too absorbed in their conversation to hear them.

At the bottom of the stairs, Allen and Mark found themselves in a long hallway dimly lit by a flickering light. The walls were damp, and the room was even more oppressive than the upper floor. They could now clearly hear the voices of the three men, discussing something important.

"The boss doesn’t want us staying here too long," said one of the lackeys. "This is just a place to store the valuable stuff before we move it tomorrow."

"We need to be quick then," added another. "We don’t want any trouble with the cops."

"Yeah, but we’ve got to be careful with this stuff. If we break even one thing, the boss will kill us," sighed the smaller lackey, hands on his hips.

Allen exchanged a glance with Mark. This wasn’t a permanent hideout, just a temporary storage place. But that meant they were in the right place to find something. If valuable items were being stored here for transport, they might stumble upon some vital information.

The two friends crept a few steps closer, hiding behind an old concrete pillar, watching the men. The three approached a metal door at the end of the hallway. One of them took out a key, opened the door, and they all disappeared inside.

Mark turned to Allen, breathing heavily. "Do we go in after them, or try to get out of here without being seen?"

Allen stared at the metal door. He knew this decision could change the course of their investigation. Going into that room was risky, but he was almost certain it held something important.

"We’ll wait a few seconds, then go in," he said firmly. "We need to find out what they’re hiding in there."

Allen and Mark waited for a few moments, hiding in the shadows, nerves on edge. They could hear muffled voices coming from the metal room. One of the lackeys seemed to be giving orders to his companions, then the sound of unpacking and hurried murmurs suggested they were preparing something.

"Let’s go now," Allen whispered, slipping toward the metal door. He moved quietly, checking that no one was around. With a quick glance at Mark, he turned the handle, and the door creaked open slowly.

They slipped inside and found themselves in a larger room than they expected. The ceiling was low, and metal shelves lined the walls, filled with crates and bags. The three lackeys were busy sorting through papers and packing boxes.

Allen signaled to Mark to move closer to a stack of crates, allowing them to observe discreetly without being spotted. They listened carefully to the men’s conversation, hoping to catch some crucial information.

"Everything’s pretty much ready. We just need to seal a few more packages, and we’re done."

"I hope after this the boss will promote us to real gangsters," one of the men said, smiling hopefully as he wrapped tape around a crate.

"Keep dreaming, Jinyoung," replied another lackey with a shrug, his bitter tone betraying some built-up frustration. "The boss has his favorites. He’s clearly giving us the worst jobs because he doesn’t like us."

The smallest lackey, sitting on the floor with his eyes glued to scattered papers, sighed. "Yeah, we’re just pawns to him. But hey, it’s better than nothing. At least it pays."

Jinyoung snorted, clearly annoyed. "We do all the dirty work and get stuck here while the others have fun. It’s not fair."

"Fairness didn’t hire us, Jinyoung," the third lackey laughed softly, checking his gun. "As long as we keep doing what we’re told, we stay out of trouble."

A brief silence fell over them as they continued packing the boxes. The smallest lackey glanced nervously at the metal door. "Did you hear that noise earlier? I don’t like it."

"Stop freaking out over nothing," Jinyoung growled. "If there was a problem, we’d know by now. No one comes near this area without us being alerted."

But before they could continue, a dull thud echoed from the darkness behind them. The three lackeys froze, and a figure emerged from the shadows, fast as lightning. A masked man had just entered the scene.

And Allen recognized him instantly. It was Serim, the man who had saved him the other night. He was seeing him again, finally.

Serim struck the first lackey, Jinyoung, with blinding speed. His hand closed around the lackey’s collar, lifting him before slamming him violently into a pile of boxes. The impact was so strong that the lackey didn’t even have time to fight back before collapsing to the ground, groggy.

Only his eyes were visible. Allen noticed the anger in them. A veil of violence. Every blow he delivered made his eyes widen with rage, vengeance. Was there a hint of sadness too? Allen wasn’t sure.

The smallest lackey scrambled to pull out his gun, but Serim was faster. He lunged at him, grabbed his wrist, and with a quick movement, disarmed the man by breaking his hold. Before he could even understand what was happening, Serim kneed him in the stomach, followed by an elbow to the jaw. The lackey staggered backward, crashing into the wall with a groan of pain before slumping down, unconscious.

However, while Serim was focused on the second-to-last lackey, the third, the strongest of the group, silently slipped behind him, a gun he had just picked up from a crate in hand, ready to fire.

Allen, still hidden behind a crate with Mark, saw the scene unfold before his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest. He knew Serim wouldn’t survive if he was shot. Without thinking, an almost primal instinct took over.

Allen suddenly stood up. "Allen, what are you doing, stay here!" Mark hissed, trying to grab his friend, but it was too late.

Without knowing exactly why, Allen ran toward the lackey, determined to intervene. Just before the shot could be fired, he grabbed a wooden plank lying on the floor and hit the lackey on the back of the head. The lackey staggered, surprised, dropping the gun before falling to his knees, disoriented.

Serim turned around at that moment, alerted by the noise. He looked at Allen with a flash of surprise in his eyes but didn’t say a word. In a blur of motion, Serim finished off the last thug with a precise blow to the temple, knocking him out cold, just like the others.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the heavy breathing of Allen and Serim. Allen, still in shock from his own actions, stared at Serim, barely realizing what he had just done. He looked into Serim’s eyes. They were filled with hatred, darkness, and something else—revenge. Yes, there was vengeance in his eyes.

"What are you doing here, kid?" Serim growled. "I already told you to—"

"Allen!" Mark shouted, running over and instinctively standing in front of his friend, trying to shield him from the man still lurking in the shadows. Serim’s eyes narrowed briefly in surprise, but he quickly turned his gaze to the scattered crates on the floor.

"Get out. This is no place for civilians," he said in a deep voice, walking over to the weapons left on the ground.

Mark quickly grabbed Allen’s hand, pulling him firmly toward the door. "He’s right, we don’t belong here. We need to leave, now!" His voice trembled with panic.

But Allen broke free from Mark’s grip and turned back to Serim, a determined look on his face.

"Hyung, I need to talk to him. Leave us alone," Allen said, his voice cold and resolved. Mark’s eyes widened in shock.

"What?! Are you crazy?!" he exclaimed, his voice shaking with disbelief.

Serim, still with his back to them, continued rummaging through the boxes, ignoring the tension between the two friends. He was sorting through documents with a disturbing indifference, as if none of this mattered to him.

"Please, hyung. Just wait outside the door. If something goes wrong, I’ll shout," Allen insisted, his gaze fixed on Serim, his determination becoming clearer.

Mark, torn between worry and disbelief, opened his mouth to protest, but seeing the determined look on his friend’s face, he held back. He let out a heavy sigh and made his way to the exit, casting one last wary glance at Serim, who still paid them no attention.

"Don’t do anything stupid, Allen," Mark muttered before slipping out, closing the door softly behind him, staying close in case something went wrong.

Allen then fully turned to Serim, his breathing still shaky, but his mind clearer. He cautiously stepped forward, his footsteps echoing softly on the floor. Serim, still facing away, continued searching through the boxes, showing no sign of acknowledging the young man’s presence.

"Why did you attack those guys?" Allen asked, his voice tense.

No answer. Serim didn’t move. His hands kept sorting the documents, relentless, as if Allen wasn’t even there.

"You know them, don’t you? Why are you after them?"

Still no reaction. The silence in the room was heavy. Allen bit his lip, his fists clenching with frustration and anxiety. He wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not in such a tense situation.

"What was in those boxes? What is this place?" he asked more firmly, hoping to force a response.

Serim paused for a moment but still didn’t look at him. He closed one of the boxes, stood up, and moved to another one, completely ignoring Allen’s questions.

"At least answer me!" Allen nearly shouted, his frustration growing. "You’re the one who stormed in here, you’re the one who attacked them! Why?"

Serim’s mask revealed no emotion. He continued to finish checking the room, each movement precise and deliberate. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if the weight of all these unspoken words was suffocating the room.

Allen, feeling helpless, took another step forward. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Nothing. Serim finally stood up, and his eyes, hidden by his mask, glanced briefly at Allen. That silent look sent a shiver down the young man’s spine. Without a word, Serim turned again, heading for the door as if he had no more reason to stay.

Allen’s heart raced. He wanted answers, but he could tell Serim wasn’t ready to give them. Not yet. If he couldn’t get answers right now, he would find them himself. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

"Wait!" he called out urgently.

Against all odds, Serim stopped, his hand on the door handle. Without turning around, he spoke in a low, firm voice. "I don’t know what you want, kid, but you’re not getting it from me. Stop sticking your nose into my business, or things will end badly for you. I don’t want to hurt you, but don’t push me. Now get out of here, and stay out of my way."

Allen clenched his fists. He couldn’t give up now. "We have the same goal, Serim," he said, trying to get his attention. "We both want to bring down the Vipers."

Serim let out a mocking laugh and finally turned around slowly to face Allen. His eyes gleamed with amusement and disbelief. "You? Take down the Vipers? Why would a fragile boy like you want to take on an entire gang?"

"Fragile boy?!" Allen protested. "I just saved your life, remember? If I was as useless as you think, you’d be dead right now." He crossed his arms, staring defiantly at Serim. "And I’m way more capable than you realize."

Instantly, Serim’s attitude shifted. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, and his body tensed. "Who are you, exactly? Are you working for the government?" His tone was sharper now, ready to turn violent if he heard the wrong answer.

Allen knew he had to lie. He couldn’t let Serim see him as a threat. If getting information on the Vipers meant going through Serim, this was his only chance. "No," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "I’m just a civilian, like you said. If you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already. But I’m not your enemy, and you know it."

Serim was silent for a moment, his gaze searching Allen’s, trying to find a crack in his words. Then he shook his head slightly. "I don’t make alliances," he said coldly. "Especially not with strangers."

Allen took a deep breath. Serim’s rejection wasn’t surprising, but he couldn’t let it discourage him. In his mind, one thing was clear: whether Serim liked it or not, he was the key to getting what Allen needed. Through him, Allen would learn everything he needed to know about the Vipers. Serim could say what he wanted, but Allen had made up his mind not to give up.

"That won’t stop me," Allen murmured, more to himself than to Serim. Serim’s refusal was just a temporary obstacle. He would find another way to open that door, even if it took time.

Serim, sensing that stubborn determination, hesitated for a split second before saying in an almost exasperated voice, "Do what you want, kid. But if you keep getting involved in my business, you’ll regret it."

Without another word, he opened the door and disappeared into the night, leaving Allen alone with his determination and one clear thought: he wouldn’t let Serim slip away.

Chapter Text

Allen remained still, staring at the door through which Serim had just disappeared. The room was silent, but his mind was in turmoil. He had hoped Serim would reveal something—an indication, an explanation. Yet, as always, he had gotten nothing. Serim remained an enigma, a cold wall that Allen had yet to figure out how to breach.

The silence was broken by the sound of rapid footsteps.

"Allen!"

Mark’s voice echoed, and a moment later, he appeared in the doorway again, his face marked with worry. He hurried inside, casting an anxious glance around the room as if expecting to find signs of a struggle.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice trembling, his eyes searching Allen’s face with urgency. "What did he do to you?"

Allen averted his gaze, still unsettled by the confrontation with Serim.

"Nothing," he replied softly. "He just left."

Mark seemed relieved, but his concern didn’t fade.

"That’s it? He didn’t say anything? No explanation at all?" he pressed, stepping closer, visibly uneasy. He placed a hand on Allen’s shoulder, his expression intense. "I didn’t hear a word from you the whole time. I thought… I was worried."

Allen remained silent for a moment, recalling Serim’s words.

"He told me to stay out of his business… that he didn’t want to hurt me, but if I kept pushing, things would end badly for me." His voice wavered slightly as he spoke.

Mark sighed, his features tightening with tension.

"And you believe him? That guy is dangerous, Allen. He can hurt you, no matter what he says. Look at what he did to those men…" He gestured toward the unconscious bodies of the henchmen still sprawled on the floor.

Allen stared at the ground before slowly raising his eyes to Mark, a spark of determination appearing in his gaze.

"I know, but… something tells me he’s the key. He knows things—about the Vipers, about… all of this."

Mark frowned, visibly perplexed.

"But why are you so obsessed with this? Why do you insist on getting involved? We could just walk away from all of this and forget about it. Let the police handle it. I never should’ve dragged you into this, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be messing with these people."

"I can’t," Allen replied, his voice soft but firm. "I feel like there’s something bigger here, something that concerns me."

Mark took a step back, visibly troubled.

"What are you talking about? None of this concerns us, Allen. We have nothing to do with these people."

Allen lowered his head.

"I…"

Mark sighed. "Allen, listen, we shouldn’t get involved in this any further. I’m sorry, I dragged you into this mess, and I never should have. Forget about this gang, and that guy. He’s right—it’s not our business. This is way too dangerous for us, and I don’t want anything to happen to you… Promise me you won’t go looking for them again, okay?"

The American didn’t say a word, his gaze still fixed on the floor. Letting go now would mean abandoning valuable leads, paths that could lead him straight to this feared gang. Ever since his friend had mentioned their possible hideout, the Vipers had consumed his thoughts, as if there was something even darker lurking beneath the surface. But maybe Mark was right. After all, he was just a prosecutor. He should let the police handle this.

Allen lifted his eyes to his friend, his gaze gentle.

"Yeah, I promise, hyung."

The older man smiled, pulling Allen into a hug.

"I don’t want you putting yourself in danger for something that might lead nowhere. You’re my friend—I don’t want to lose you."

Allen offered a faint smile, hugging him back.

"Come on, we need to get out of here, or I swear I’m going to have a panic attack," Mark said with a nervous laugh, pulling Allen toward the exit, leaving the three unconscious men behind.

****

Mark’s words still echoed in Allen’s mind as he walked through the peaceful streets of the city. The soft morning light bathed the buildings, their gray facades tinged with gold, and life carried on as if everything were normal. But inside Allen, nothing was. His encounter with Serim, that silence, that cold indifference—it all replayed in his head.

As a prosecutor, he wasn’t a stranger to danger or high-risk investigations. But his obsession with the Vipers went beyond professional logic. He didn’t understand why this gang, in particular, consumed him so much. It had become personal, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.

Allen stopped at a street corner, watching the passersby absentmindedly. Their faces, their gestures—everything seemed so ordinary. He himself had become a master at playing the part of a calm, composed civilian. But inside, a storm raged. Ever since he had crossed paths with the Vipers, his life had taken a strange turn. He wanted to bring them down, to eradicate them, but he couldn’t always justify why. This visceral, almost primal need to see them fall—it didn’t always make sense.

This habit of aimless wandering, of walking back and forth without a real destination, was his way of staying grounded, of not losing himself in his obsession. He particularly liked this modest café he often visited. The large bay windows let in a gentle light, and the place exuded a comforting calm. Today, as usual, he decided to stop by.

As he entered, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee pulled him back to a time when things were simpler, when his job hadn’t taken on this obsessive dimension. He took his usual seat by the window, ordering a black coffee without much thought. As he waited for his drink, his thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened over the past week.

Ever since Mark had suggested finding the Vipers’ hideout, his days had been filled with obstacles. He never would have imagined being attacked in an alley and saved by a man seemingly tied to the Korean underworld. Nor would he have expected to follow henchmen into a warehouse, only to end up rescuing his own savior. When Serim had shut the door behind him, everything had come to an abrupt halt. Allen had to admit it—this wasn’t his fight. They had been reckless.

The server returned and placed his cup in front of him. Allen thanked him with a distracted nod. As he brought the cup to his lips, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a call.

"Hello?"

"Allen! It’s been so long, how are you?" A female voice rang out through his phone.

"I’m good, and you, Yeji?" the American asked, a wide smile spreading across his face at the sound of his friend’s voice.

"I’m great, but I’d be even better if we could meet up! What do you say? We could catch up, talk about the weather—I’d really love to see you, it’s been so—"

Allen chuckled and cut her off.

"Still as talkative and straightforward as ever… Sounds good. How about we meet at the park near your place in an hour?"

The young woman squealed in excitement at his agreement and quickly replied, "Yes, perfect! See you later then, bye-bye!"

She hung up as quickly as she had spoken, leaving Allen in suspense. He sighed with a chuckle; Hwang Yeji, a girl his age, had met him at a party where Hyeongjun had dragged him, despite Minhee’s disapproval. She was a bright and radiant person who loved making new friends. Their circle had once thought they were a couple, only for her to crush their hopes by casually revealing that she was more into girls than guys.

Allen got up to pay and stepped out of the café, the cold air hitting his cheeks sharply. He walked for a few minutes to the park where the two friends often met.

The park was already lively that early afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting patterns of light and shadow on the path. Allen strolled calmly, his mind still a bit cluttered with thoughts of work, but the thought of seeing Yeji lightened him. She had this unique talent for dispelling even the most stubborn worries.

He spotted her quickly, sitting on a bench near the fountain, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone screen. The moment their eyes met, her face lit up, and a wide, radiant smile spread across her lips. She jumped up, her fiery orange hair swirling around her like a vibrant flame.

"Allen! There you are !" she called out cheerfully, waving excitedly. Without hesitation, she ran toward him, practically bouncing, her enthusiasm infectious.

Allen couldn't help but smile. "Hey, Yeji, you look full of energy today," he said, his usual reserved tone softened by his genuine amusement.

Yeji laughed as she stopped in front of him. "Of course, I’m full of energy! Look at this day! It’s just perfect!" She spread her arms dramatically, as if embracing the entire park. "How can you stay so serious with a sun like this?"

Allen shrugged slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I guess I’ve got too much on my mind."

Yeji rolled her eyes, exaggerating a pout. "As always! You think too much. Come on, let's walk. It'll do you good to stretch your legs." Without waiting for his answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him along the shaded paths of the park. Her lively energy contrasted with Allen’s slower, more composed stride.

As they walked, Yeji, true to herself, spoke at a dizzying speed, jumping from one topic to another without transition.

"You know, I started doing yoga recently! It’s amazing, really relaxing. You should try it! It would do you so much good." She glanced at him teasingly. "Though… I can’t really picture you doing the downward-facing dog pose."

Allen raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and skepticism in his expression. "Yoga? You? I would’ve pegged you more as the type to run a marathon."

Yeji pulled a comically horrified face. "Oh, trust me, I tried that too. And after five kilometers, I was crawling like a grandma! A total disaster!" She burst into laughter, her bright giggles blending with the distant shouts of children and birdsong.

They continued walking for a while before Yeji looked at him more seriously. "And you? What’s new? Still drowning in work, huh? Have you thought about doing something else, just to clear your head?"

Allen let out a small sigh, his smile fading a little. "Yeah… work takes up most of my time. But I love what I do, so I can’t really complain."

Yeji frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Hmm… you say that, but I bet you’re exhausted. You’re always all-in, and you never take a break for anything else. Seriously, you should loosen up a bit."

Allen sighed again, this time deeper. She was right, as she often was. "It’s just that… lately, it’s been a bit tough mentally."

Yeji suddenly stopped, pulling Allen’s arm to make him halt too. She locked eyes with him, her gaze sharper than ever. "Allen, what’s bothering you?"

Allen hesitated. Yeji was one of the rare people he fully trusted. She had this uncanny ability to understand him even when he didn’t speak. But was it a good idea to tell her everything that had been haunting him lately? This story… it was dark. Too dark for her, he thought.

He tried to brush it off with a small, awkward smile. "It’s nothing serious, just work."

Yeji folded her arms, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Allen, I know you inside out. Don’t lie to me. Even your mom can’t read you as well as I can."

Allen bit the inside of his cheek. He should have known—there was no hiding anything from her. He finally gave in. "You’re right. There’s… something on my mind."

"Ah! I knew it! Come on, spill everything." She pulled him toward a bench a little further away from the crowd. Once they sat down, Allen glanced around, making sure no one was listening. Then, he met Yeji’s eyes, his stomach knotting with apprehension.

"I can’t give you all the details. But there’s… a situation I’ve gotten involved in. People told me to stay away, not to get involved. But for some reason, something keeps pulling me in. I feel like I need to understand what’s happening, like I have to see it through. It’s been eating at me. It might sound childish, but I just… I can’t let it go. A part of me needs to know."

His hands trembled slightly from the cold. He stopped talking, waiting for Yeji’s reaction. She remained silent for a moment, her gaze locked onto him, unreadable. Then, slowly, she turned her eyes toward the lake in front of them, her hair swaying with the wind. The silence stretched, heavy. Allen held his breath.

"Is it dangerous?" Yeji suddenly asked. Her voice wasn’t angry, but there was a flicker of panic beneath the surface.

"Let’s just say it’s not something to be taken lightly… But if I’m careful, nothing will happen to me," he said, trying to reassure her—and himself.

Yeji closed her eyes for a second. Allen had never seen her this serious before.

"Well…," she finally said, "if you want my opinion, follow your instincts. You know I always charge ahead without thinking." She let out a small laugh, but quickly regained her serious tone. "But I’m still your friend. This whole danger thing… it freaks me out. Be careful, Allen. I don’t know if this has to do with your job, but just promise me you won’t put yourself at risk unnecessarily."

Allen nodded, but his thoughts were even more tangled than before. A part of him had almost wished she’d told him to stop, like Mark had. But now, he was left juggling between his desire to understand and the caution pulling him back.

"Thanks for listening to my nonsense, Yeji," he said, chuckling softly.

Yeji threw herself at him, ruffling his hair like a child. "No problem, my little Allen! Always here for you."

They kept walking and chatting, Allen’s troubles gradually fading under Yeji’s laughter and playful teasing, until the night fell over the park, wrapping their friendship in a gentle complicity.

****

Allen let out a long groan of exhaustion as his body finally hit the bed. The weight of the day settled on his shoulders, and it only took a few seconds for him to sink into the covers, closing his eyes for a moment, hoping for a brief respite. He picked up his phone and noticed that he had received a message earlier in the day.

5 PM.

Hyeongjunie ♡:

Hyung, I rang your doorbell, but you didn’t open, and you’re not answering my calls. I guess you must be busy (really busy, because if you’re not answering me, you must have a good excuse, right?!?!). I just wanted to say that tomorrow night, Minhee and I are having a movie night—if you want to join, it’s open! Kiss kiss <3

PS: Next time you don’t answer like this, I’ll break into your place. I have the spare keys, remember? :)

Allen smiled as he read the message, a glimmer of affection in his eyes. He had completely forgotten that Hyeongjun had called him multiple times while he was at the park with Yeji. His phone had vibrated, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in light conversations and laughter with his friend. For a moment, daily life had pushed aside the shadows weighing on his mind.

He put his phone away without replying. The idea of joining Hyeongjun and Minhee for a movie night was tempting, but his mental energy was draining fast. Even with close friends, sometimes, even the best company couldn’t break through the deep fatigue that consumed him.

Allen stretched slowly, feeling his tense muscles protest at the effort. As silence wrapped around his apartment, the thoughts he had managed to avoid during his walk came rushing back.

Yeji’s words echoed in his head. Follow your will, but be careful.

Easier said than done.

He sank deeper into his sheets, eyes fixed on the ceiling, staring at an imaginary point. Everything in him was at war. His logical, methodical mind—the one that had pushed him to become a prosecutor—was screaming at him not to go down this dangerous path. Mark had been clear: this case, this gang, it was a black hole he risked getting lost in. He should have walked away. He knew that.

And yet... something inexplicable pulled him in the opposite direction. An irresistible force tugging at his gut, his heart. Every fiber of his being told him to keep going, to see this through, to uncover the mystery haunting him. This wasn’t just about work or justice anymore—it was personal. As if something greater was waiting for him at the end of this uncertain road.

But at what cost? He had no answer.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. Allen closed his eyes, trying to find some peace, but instead, he found only inner turmoil. The dilemma gnawed at him. Should he trust his instincts, even at the risk of getting into trouble far bigger than himself? Or should he listen to reason and abandon the pursuit that was slowly consuming him?

He had always put duty first, always chosen the safest, most rational path. But this time, he felt the rules were changing. Maybe it was instinct. Or maybe he was completely mistaken.

He turned over in bed, exhaustion failing to quiet his restless mind. Reality pressed down on him: he was caught in a spiral he could no longer escape. This mystery, this case, this danger... it both fascinated and terrified him. Maybe he would end up regretting this choice. Maybe it would destroy him. But he had to see it through. Even if it meant plunging into the darkness.

The silence of the night offered no answers. Only questions, doubts, and this strange pull toward danger that felt almost... inevitable.

As sleep finally began to claim him, a thought flickered through his mind, subtle but persistent: Was it already too late to turn back?

And with that lingering question, Allen finally surrendered to the night.

Chapter Text

"My sweet boy finally answers his phone!"

His mother’s warm voice immediately filled the apartment, and Allen couldn’t help but smile.
"Mom, it’s not like I ignore you on purpose."

"Mmh, that’s what all busy people say, she teased. But I’ll forgive you, just this once."

"Oh, how generous."

She laughed softly on the other end of the line, and that sound felt like a comfort.
"So? How’s my favorite son doing?"

Allen settled more comfortably on his bed, his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.
"I’m doing fine. Work is keeping me busy, as always."

"And do you at least eat properly? Sleep properly?"

"Of course I do." Allen lied.

"Liar."

He chuckled. His mother had an uncanny instinct.
"Okay, maybe not as much as I should. But I manage."

"Allen…" Her voice softened even more. "I know you love your job. I know it’s important to you. But don’t let it consume you, sweetheart. Life isn’t just about work."

He closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in that familiar warmth.

"I know, Mom. I promise I’m taking care of myself."

"Good. Because if you don’t, I’m flying over there to force-feed you a real meal."

"That sounds both loving and slightly terrifying."

" That’s what moms do best."

He smiled again, and then she continued in a lighter tone :
"So, tell me… Have you met anyone interesting lately?"

Allen furrowed his brows slightly.
"Like… at work?"

"No, not at work, Allen. I mean, personally. Romantically."

He rolled his eyes, though a small laugh escaped him. Always the same.
"Mom…"

"What? A mother can dream! You’re smart, handsome, successful… It wouldn’t hurt to have someone special in your life."

"I have friends. That’s enough for now."

Her mother nodded by a "mmh". She sounded skeptical, but she didn’t push further.
"And work? Any big cases keeping you up at night?"

Allen hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Nothing I can’t handle."

"That’s what worries me. You always think you can handle everything on your own."

He had no response to that. She knew him too well. Her mother has always been that type of mother protective, she always knows when something is wrong.

A slight pause settled between them, comfortable and familiar, before Allen asked :

"How’s Dad?"

His mother took a second too long to respond. Then, in a soft, almost resigned voice, she said:

— He is fine. He’s always the same, you know. He doesn’t change.

Allen wanted to press further, but he didn’t.

"I see, be healthy and take care of each other for me, please." he murmured.

She laughed.
"It seems i am listening to my mother right now."

Allen and she laughed together. They have always had a really good relationship. When Allen was a kid, and had problems at school, she was always there for him, no matter what.

There was a brief silence, then she resumed in a lighter tone :
"Now, go get some real rest before I start lecturing you again."

He chuckled.
"Yes, ma’am."

"That’s my boy."

And with a final goodbye, the line cut off, leaving Allen alone in his apartment.

After the conversation with his mother, Allen let his phone fall onto the bed and leaned back against the wall, staring into space.

He had always been close to his parents. Leaving their home had been both painful and liberating. A chance to start fresh, to build himself up away from the reassuring but sometimes suffocating shadow of his family.

His mother often crossed his mind. She had that rare gentleness, a way of worrying without being overbearing, always knowing exactly what to say to soothe. It was in her nature. A nurse by profession, she cared for others the same way she cared for him—with sincere warmth and infinite patience. Even thousands of miles away, she still managed to bring him comfort.

His father, on the other hand… Allen had never quite figured him out.

He was a reserved, secretive man. He had retired early, and Allen never really understood why. As a child, he would sometimes ask questions about his work, curious to know what he had done exactly. But the answer was always the same:

«I worked in an office.»

Nothing more, nothing less.
As if that was enough to end the conversation.

And Allen had never insisted.

With that thought lingering, he got up to get ready for work.

Today was going to be another busy day. No breaks, no distractions.

He left the apartment, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, and headed toward his workplace.

****

The morning sun bathed the wide windows of the prosecutor’s office in a golden light, giving the space an almost peaceful atmosphere. Almost.

Allen, seated at his desk, skimmed through a stack of case files, a lukewarm cup of coffee sitting beside him. Today, several cases awaited him, and he needed to keep his mind clear.

The door to the shared office suddenly swung open, letting in Jihyo, one of the most respected prosecutors in the courthouse. She wore a perfectly tailored beige suit and held a tablet in one hand.

"Allen, have you seen the report on the Lee Jinhwan case? That guy got released due to lack of evidence."

Allen looked up, frowning.

"You’re kidding, right? We had a key witness."

Jihyo sighed and leaned against his desk.

"Yeah, except that witness decided to retract their statement at the last minute. Officially, they "forgot some details." Unofficially… they either got a hefty sum of money or a death threat."

Allen pressed his lips together. He hated these situations. The gangs’ influence was everywhere, even in the judicial system.

Taeyang, a young prosecutor recently transferred to the office, approached with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"Are we talking about another failed case? Seriously, at this rate, we should start a support group for frustrated prosecutors."

Allen smirked despite himself.

"Not a bad idea. But I think we’d need a bar, too."

"No doubt about it", Jihyo added.

He placed a file on Allen’s desk before crossing his arms.

"Welcome to South Korea, my friend. Here, justice plays cat and mouse with criminals… and sometimes, the mouse has a gun."

Allen nodded as he quickly skimmed through the documents.

"And this case? What is it?"

"Just a minor thing, Taeyang said sarcastically. A 19-year-old found dead near the Han River. The autopsy says overdose, but the circumstances are sketchy. We think he worked for a gang before becoming a problem."

A chill ran up Allen’s spine.

"Which gang?" he asked, feigning indifference.

"No confirmation, but he was often seen in a district controlled by the Vipers."

A heavy silence settled in the shared office.

Jihyo sighed, shaking her head.
"Those guys are everywhere. And we have almost no leverage against them."

Taeyang crossed his arms, clearly frustrated.

"The problem is that we don’t have solid evidence. No one dares to talk. The moment we approach a witness, they either vanish or change their story."

Allen rubbed his temples. His gut told him this case and what he had seen weren’t just a coincidence. Everything he had gone through, were linked with these gangs.

Taeyang leaned against his desk, arms still crossed.

"Allen, you with us? You’ve been zoning out all morning."

Allen looked up and flashed a smile to brush off suspicion.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. It’s frustrating to see these guys walk free every time."

Jihyo’s phone vibrated, and after glancing at the message, she straightened up.

" I have to go, they need me. Allen, if you have time, stop by Judge Kang’s office. He wants your opinion on a corruption case. "

Allen nodded.

"Got it."

The others went back to their work, and Allen pretended to focus on his files again. But his mind stayed locked on the Vipers… and Serim.

****

The courthouse hallways were gradually emptying, a sign that lunchtime was finally approaching. The usually tense and focused atmosphere had relaxed slightly, as employees tidied up their files or stretched after hours of sitting.

Allen closed the last report he had been reading and let out a sigh before glancing at the clock. 12:40 PM.

"Allen, come eat with us."

He looked up and saw Jihyo, leaning against his office door with a smirk. Taeyang stood behind her, arms crossed.

"Don’t you want to eat something with actual flavor for once?" Taeyang joked.

Allen raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on his lips.
"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"That if you’re planning on surviving off coffee and a quick sandwich again, we’re going to have to teach you what a real lunch break is."

Allen hesitated for a second, his gaze drifting to the stack of files on his desk. He could use this break to get ahead on his work, but he also knew he needed it. These moments of downtime with his colleagues were rare, and he loved them.

'Alright, you convinced me."

"That’s the spirit," Jihyo approved, patting him on the shoulder before turning to Taeyang. "So, where are we going?"

"I’m craving Korean BBQ", Taeyang announced enthusiastically.

"You’re always craving Korean BBQ,"Jihyo retorted, rolling her eyes.

Allen chuckled as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
"Korean BBQ sounds good to me."

They left the courthouse and walked through the bustling streets of Seoul, enjoying the sunlight filtering through the buildings. The city was alive with movement—rushed office workers, students laughing together, and the enticing aroma of street food lingering in the air.

"I sometimes forget how lively this city is," Allen murmured as he watched the crowd.

"And yet, you chose to settle here," Jihyo noted, raising an eyebrow.

Allen shrugged.
"It’s different when you spend all day locked inside a courthouse."

Taeyang chuckled.
"You mean being surrounded by criminals and shady lawyers doesn’t give you a joyful view of the city?"

"Surprisingly, no."

They finally arrived in front of a restaurant, where the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat drifted through the slightly open door. Taeyang let out a satisfied sigh.

"Ah, paradise."

They took a seat near the window, and a waiter quickly came over with menus.

"Have you ever had Korean barbecue in America?" Taeyang asked, glancing at Allen.

"Yeah, but… Allen pretended to think for a moment. It’s nothing like this. Nothing beats authenticity."

"Good answer," Jihyo said approvingly as she poured three glasses of water.

The waiter soon returned with thin slices of meat to grill, accompanied by kimchi, pickled vegetables, potato salad...
Allen looked at the table with a satisfied smile.

"Alright, I admit this is way better than my usual sandwich."

"Obviously", Taeyang replied as he started turning the meat on the grill.

They began eating, their conversation flowing naturally from one topic to another.

"So, Allen," Jihyo said between bites of food. "You still haven’t told us if you have someone in your life."

Allen almost choked on his rice.
"Why is everyone asking me that lately?"

"Because you seem like the type who works too much and doesn’t have time to date anyone," Taeyang replied with a smirk. "And we just want to confirm we’re right."

Allen shook his head in amusement.
"No secret romance, sorry to disappoint you."

"That’s not a crime," Jihyo admitted. "But one day, you’ll have to think about looking up from your case files."

Allen grinned slightly, absentmindedly playing with his chopsticks.
"Maybe."

They continued their meal in a relaxed atmosphere. Allen felt good. Really good. These moments reminded him why he loved working here—despite the pressure and danger. It wasn’t just a job. It was friendships, light-hearted conversations between heavy cases, a fragile balance between stress and these moments of respite.

As they finished their lunch, Jihyo’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the message, sighed, then put her phone away.
"We’re needed. Judge Kang wants to see us."

Allen set down his chopsticks with a small smile.

"Playtime’s over."

"Yeah, but at least we ate well," Taeyang said, stretching.

They paid the bill and stepped out of the restaurant, returning to the bright afternoon light.

Allen took a deep breath. He knew the rest of the day would probably be stressful, but for now, he let himself savor the warmth of this shared moment.

Then, slowly, he became the serious, focused prosecutor once again.

****

The courtroom was steeped in a heavy atmosphere, where every rustling of paper and every whisper seemed amplified. Allen, seated slightly to the side, attentively observed the proceedings. In front of him, Judge Kang, an imposing man with stern features, listened to the arguments with an impassive expression.

To his right, Jihyo was taking notes with remarkable concentration. Every now and then, she tapped her pen against her notebook—a habit Allen knew well, something she did when she was deep in thought.

"Not really interested in this one?" she asked in a low voice, without lifting her eyes from her notes.

Allen shrugged slightly, watching the lawyers present their arguments.
"Just observing, that’s all."

Jihyo smirked without stopping her writing.
"Mmh. You seem more focused than usual."

Allen didn’t reply. He wasn’t about to admit that, deep down, he was unconsciously looking for a connection—anything, no matter how small—that could be linked to what he had seen in the past few days. But everything here seemed to be nothing more than a simple commercial dispute.

The hearing went on for another half hour before Judge Kang gave his ruling. The defendant, a businessman accused of fraud, was sentenced to a hefty fine but no prison time. A predictable outcome.

As the lawyers and the involved parties began packing up their files, Allen stood up, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket. He had no intention of staying here any longer.

But just as he was passing near Judge Kang, he overheard the man speaking to the victim’s lawyers, his voice low and measured:

"I just received more files on men who are more or less linked to gangs. They're everywhere. But we can’t acknowledge anything because we don’t have enough information to prove they’re actually part of a gang. And right now, it’s a… sensitive topic."

Allen paused briefly, pretending to wait for Jihyo, who was still gathering her notes.

He knew he shouldn’t be listening. He should just keep walking, pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

But he couldn’t ignore it.

Ever since he had found himself face to face with the Vipers' threats, it seemed like everyone kept bringing them up. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

"Eavesdropping now?" Jihyo teased as she caught up to him, amused.

Allen straightened up, like someone caught in the act.

"Not at all," he replied after a brief hesitation.

Jihyo raised an eyebrow. She chuckled, tucking her notebook under her arm.
"You know, lately, that’s all anyone talks about. Gangs. It’s like the entire courthouse revolves around them these days."

Allen remained silent. Because she was right.

They walked together toward the courthouse exit, where the cool air immediately wrapped around them. The sky was overcast, and a cold breeze swept through the open corridors of the building.

"By the way," Jihyo continued, slipping her hands into her coat pockets, "I’m sure there’s a secret file somewhere, filled only with gang-related cases."

She said it in a lighthearted tone, like a joke.

But Allen, listening intently, didn’t take it as one.
"A secret file?"

"Just a theory, "she laughed. "But admit it, it would make sense, wouldn’t it? With everything going on…"

Allen said nothing, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

A theory, maybe.

But his gut told him that file was real.

And despite his promise to Mark, despite his own decision to stay out of this mess…

He already knew he was going to look for it.

The sun was slowly setting over Seoul, painting the sky in shades of orange and violet. The courthouse offices were gradually emptying, tired employees dispersing into the city's bustling streets. Allen, however, walked at a steady pace, savoring this brief moment where he could finally breathe after an exhausting day.

The fatigue weighed on his shoulders, but he appreciated this transition between work and home. These moments—when the city exhaled, when he could watch the crowd thinning—gave him a strange sense of peace.

He paused briefly at a crosswalk, watching the neon signs begin to flicker in the distance. The day's heat had faded, replaced by a cool evening breeze. He was heading home, just a few minutes from his workplace. An ordinary evening.

Or so he thought.

"Mister! Mister!"

Allen frowned, turning toward the voices, unsure if they were calling for him.

Two tiny figures were rushing toward him. Two children, no older than five, barefoot on the sidewalk, their worn-out clothes covered in dust. They looked out of breath, panicked, their small faces marked with fear.

"Please, help us!" pleaded one of the children, a little girl with tangled hair.

Allen looked down at them, surprised.
"What’s wrong?"

"Our big brother!" the second child, a boy, stammered, his voice trembling. "He got hurt! He needs help!"

Allen opened his mouth to ask another question, but the children were already tugging at his coat sleeve, their small hands gripping with unexpected strength.

"Wait—"

He didn’t even get a chance to protest.

The two children were pulling him along, their hurried footsteps echoing against the pavement.

A shiver ran down his spine. Something was off.

He glanced around.

The main street was still lively behind him, but they were moving away from it quickly. The bright neon lights faded, replaced by dimmer alleyways, older buildings, and flickering streetlamps.

"Where is your brother?" he asked, keeping a bit of distance.

"Over there! Further ahead!"

Their urgency seemed real, and yet… Why hadn’t they asked anyone else for help? Why him?

Allen’s instincts flared with alarm, but he couldn’t ignore these children. Not after seeing the fear in their eyes.

They abruptly turned into a narrow alley.

The city's noise muffled instantly.

The brick walls enclosed the tight space, and the scent of dust and dampness lingered in the air. The area was nearly deserted—no signs of life, only the distant hum of traffic.

And then, at the end of the alley, a figure.

Allen froze instinctively.

There, slumped against the wall, a man sat motionless, his head tilted downward. His breathing was uneven, as if he were fighting off immense pain.

The children tugged at him again, insistently.

"He’s right there, mister! Please help him!"

Allen studied the man carefully but didn’t move forward yet.

Something felt wrong.

The way the man was positioned, his silence, the fact that he wasn’t even acknowledging them… What kind of injury did he have?

Allen took a slow step forward.

"Sir? Are you alright?"

No response.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out his face, but the dim light of the faulty streetlamp left his features in shadow.

Allen turned to the children.

"Are you sure he—"

They were gone.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.
His gaze swept over the alley. Empty.

The children had vanished.

His pulse quickened.

He took a slight step back, his instincts screaming at him. A trap?

His muscles tensed as he turned his attention back to the injured man.

Was he really hurt? Or was he just a distraction?

"Sir?" he repeated, this time with more caution.

Still, no response.

Allen swallowed hard. He needed to leave. Now.

But just as he began to take a step back, the man finally moved.

A rough breath slipped from his lips.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

Allen felt his heart stop for a fraction of a second.

His eyes locked onto a gaze he would recognize anywhere.

A face marked by exhaustion, a thin cut on his cheek, but a piercing stare as sharp as ever.

Allen’s breath hitched in his throat.

His fingers curled involuntarily.

Fate was playing with him.

"…Serim?"

Chapter Text

Allen had never been one to believe in fate.

He was a man of logic, of facts, of evidence. His job had shaped him that way: nothing happened by chance; everything was the result of a series of decisions, actions, and consequences.

He had never paid attention to superstitions, to the signs some people claimed to read in everyday life. He still remembered his grandmother telling him that seeing a crow in the morning was bad luck or that breaking a mirror meant seven years of misfortune. Stories she told with such conviction, as if these little details could truly influence the course of a life.

Allen had always found it absurd.

You didn’t cross paths with the wrong people because of a bad omen. You didn’t meet someone because the universe had decided it. Things happened because choices led to a certain path. Nothing more.

And yet…

Yet, he found himself once again in a dark alley.

Facing this man.

The man who had saved him once.

The man who refused to leave his thoughts.

Allen couldn't understand how he had ended up facing him a second time. As if something—or someone—was making sure their paths crossed again.

He stood frozen, his gaze locked on the weakened body against the wall, struggling to breathe.

Serim.

His heart was still pounding after the sudden disappearance of the children. He didn’t know if this was a trap or just a coincidence. But seeing Serim there, in this state, made him forget everything else.

The man hadn’t reacted to his presence yet. His breathing was heavy, his shoulders trembling slightly from the effort. He was injured—that much was obvious.

But how? Why?

Allen hesitated. A part of him told him to turn around and walk away.

But he couldn't.

He took a cautious step forward, his footsteps barely audible against the damp pavement.

"Serim?"

No response.

Allen crouched slightly, trying to get a better look at his face, still hidden in the shadows.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice softer than he had intended.

Serim stirred slightly, as if slowly coming back to himself.

Then, finally, he lifted his head.

Allen felt a jolt of shock.

Even exhausted, even injured, those piercing eyes were the same. The ones that had haunted his mind since their first encounter.

Serim blinked, as if finally recognizing him. Then, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You really have a knack for being in the wrong place, kid."

Allen felt a familiar tension settle in his chest.

"You're the one in my way this time."

A silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of cars from the main street—too far for anyone to hear them.

Serim tried to straighten himself, but his face twisted in pain. Allen saw him clutch his ankle, and even in the dim light, he could make out the deep purple swelling spreading across his skin.

Allen clenched his jaw.
"It's swollen."

"Great observation," Serim muttered sarcastically before taking a sharp breath. "It's nothing."

"You call this 'nothing'? It's turning purple! How long have you been walking around with that injury?"

Allen stepped closer, but Serim raised a hand, a clear warning.
"Stay out of it."

Allen closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to stay calm.

"You're injured. And alone in an alley. Hard to believe this was part of your plan."

Serim didn’t respond immediately. He looked away for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally, he exhaled.
"Fate is a real bastard, isn’t it?"

Fate.

The very thing Allen didn’t believe in.

The very thing that, despite everything, had brought him back to this man once again.

And for the first time in a long time… he wondered if all of this was really just coincidence.

His gaze drifted back to the dark bruise under Serim’s hand. This wasn’t nothing. No matter how much he tried to downplay it, his shallow breaths and heavy eyelids betrayed him.

Then Allen noticed a brownish stain on the upper part of his t-shirt.

Another injury.

"You're bleeding." His tone left no room for argument. "We need to take care of that."

"I told you, I’m fine."

Serim attempted to push himself upright, but the moment he tried, his body tensed in pain. Allen instinctively reached out to help, but Serim shot him a glare that stopped him in his tracks.

Allen sighed.
"Stop acting tough. This could get worse."

He slipped a hand into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out his phone.

"I'm calling an ambulance."

He didn’t even get the chance to dial.

"No!"

Serim’s reaction was immediate. His head snapped up, his eyes flashing with sudden alarm—almost fear.

Allen blinked, caught off guard.

"What?"

"No ambulance."

His tone was firm, borderline desperate. As if it wasn’t just a refusal, but an absolute necessity.

Allen’s thumb hovered over the screen.

"Why?" he asked slowly.

Serim didn’t hesitate.
"Because I can’t."

Like that alone was enough to end the discussion.

Allen studied him for a long moment, searching his face.

He was afraid.

Not of the pain. Not of his current state. But of what calling an ambulance would mean.

Allen felt his stomach tighten.

"Fine," he murmured. "I won’t insist. But I can't leave you here."

A tense silence settled between them. Serim didn’t respond, but his eyes spoke for him.

Allen clenched his jaw. He didn’t like this. Not at all.

The night was starting to fall, stretching long shadows across the brick walls of the alley. The air had turned cooler, heavier.

If this injury wasn’t treated, it could become serious.

He couldn’t just leave him here.

That was the one thing he knew for sure. No matter how much Serim resisted his help, no matter how many secrets he was keeping, Allen wasn’t the kind of person to turn his back on someone in need.

But what could he do?

Leave a wounded man alone in an alley at night? Impossible.
Take him to the hospital against his will? He would refuse.
A hotel? Too risky. Too many eyes. Too many questions.

Allen ran a hand down his face, inhaling deeply.

Then, his gaze drifted around them. His apartment was just a few streets away.

And then, a ridiculous thought crossed his mind. Take him home.

He immediately shook his head. No. Too irresponsible. Too dangerous.

He barely knew this man.

But then, his eyes fell back on Serim, who was slumping further against the wall, his breathing uneven.

The choice was already made.

Shit.

Allen sighed, raking a nervous hand through his hair before crouching slightly.

"Listen, I live just a couple of blocks from here."

Serim turned his head toward him, wary.

"And then ?"

"And then? Either you stay here and bleed out, or you come with me, and I do what I can to patch you up. At the very least, stop the bleeding."

A silence followed.

Serim stared at him, probably trying to figure out why he was doing this.

Allen didn’t even know the answer himself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Serim exhaled.

"You’ve really got a fucking problem."

"I’ve heard worse."

Then, without giving him the chance to protest, he slid an arm under Serim’s shoulder, and together, they left the alley.

Serim let out a low grunt, leaning against him more than he probably wanted to. His body was heavier than Allen had anticipated, his strength visibly fading. But despite that, he still kept his guard up, his eyes flickering around their surroundings as if expecting an ambush at any moment.

"I don’t get it," Serim muttered. "How can you trust a stranger?"

Allen glanced at him sideways before answering, simply:
"I never said I trusted you."

Serim raised an eyebrow. Allen took a deep breath.

"If it makes you feel any better, I was actually ready to leave you at my doorstep and patch you up outside."

A beat of silence.

Then, unexpectedly, a small chuckle escaped Serim.

It was short, almost imperceptible, but Allen caught it. The first time he had ever heard him laugh. Allen looked at him, slightly surprised.

He didn’t know if it was the situation that amused him or just the sheer absurdity of their exchange, but for a moment, Serim seemed… different.

More human.

Allen tightened his grip slightly, helping him move a little faster.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a quiet, dimly lit corridor. The overhead wall lamps cast a soft golden glow, bouncing off the polished wooden floors.

It was eerily peaceful at this hour—the city’s chaos felt distant here.

Allen could feel Serim’s weight pressing more against him with each step. He was running on sheer willpower now, and even that was fading.

Finally, they reached Allen’s door. He fished his keys from his pocket, flipping them between his fingers before unlocking the door in one swift motion.

But just as he was about to push it open—

Serim stopped.

"No."

Allen turned to him, eyebrow raised.

"What?"

Serim leaned against the wall, breathing hard, but his gaze was firm.

"I’m not going in."

Allen stared at him.

"You’re joking."

Serim remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"I said I didn’t want to go to a hospital," he muttered. "I never said I’d step inside your apartment."

"And I was kind of joking when I said I wouldn’t let you in my apartment."

Serim locked his gaze in Allen's eyes, and he knew he was going to lose the battle.
Allen ran a hand through his hair, exhaling.

Why did he have to make everything so complicated ? But, Allen thought, he is right. Serim is a stranger, he must not enter his apartment.

He glanced around. The hallway was narrow, barely enough space for anything besides the two apartment doors. His and the one next door—Minhee and Hyeongjun’s place.

"You seriously want to stay out here?"

"Yeah."

Allen crossed his arms.

"Why?"

Serim looked away, clearly irritated by the questioning.
"Because."

"Great argument," Allen sighed.

He scanned the empty hallway, then shook his head, rubbing his temples.

"Fine. I’ll get you a chair."

Without waiting for an answer, he slipped inside his apartment, leaving the door ajar. He could have argued, could have forced Serim inside, but something told him that pushing him too hard would only make things worse.

Inside, Allen took a quick look around. He grabbed a chair from his dining area and dragged it back to the entrance, setting it in front of Serim.

Serim stared at it for a moment before sitting down slowly, saying nothing.

"You’re lucky," Allen muttered as he crouched beside him. "There are only two apartments on this floor, and my neighbors don’t step outside at this hour."

Serim didn’t respond.

Allen sighed and began examining his injuries. He pressed gently around the swollen ankle, noting the heat radiating from the skin. It was bad. Serim clenched his teeth but didn’t complain. He began to put ice on his ankle. Serim isn't moving, for the happiness of Allen.

To break the silence, Allen spoke. He had a question.

"Those kids… did you know them?"

Serim’s gaze flicked toward him, skeptical.

"What kids?"

"The ones who brought me to you. They kept calling you their big brother."

A silence.

Then, Serim looked away.

"I don’t have siblings."

Allen paused for a second.

Who were those kids, then?

Had they simply found a wounded man and decided to get help? Or… was there something more?

Before he could dwell on it, Serim gritted his teeth, his whole body tensing as Allen wrapped the ice pack around his ankle.

He let out a quiet groan of pain, but Allen ignored it, continuing his work.

"Alright, let me see the other injury."

He motioned toward the stained fabric of Serim’s shirt.

Serim hesitated, then reluctantly lifted it, revealing a shallow but still bleeding wound. The skin around it was red and irritated.

Allen frowned.

"You’re lucky," he muttered, pulling out the first-aid kit he had brought. "Could’ve been worse."

Serim said nothing.

Allen opened a bottle of antiseptic and grabbed a cotton pad.

"You’re also lucky I took first-aid courses."

Serim barely reacted, but his jaw tensed as Allen pressed the antiseptic against his skin.

"Grew up with a mother as a nurse" Allen added casually. "She always said it’d come in handy one day."

He cleaned the wound carefully, his movements precise but gentle.

"It’s not deep, but it was starting to get infected," he muttered, wrapping a clean bandage around it. "If you’d waited any longer, you’d be in real trouble."

Serim still didn’t react.

The silence stretched between them. The only sound was the soft rustling of the bandage as Allen adjusted it around Serim’s torso.

He had done this so many times before—watched his mother treat wounds, listened to her explain the importance of sterilization.

But this felt different.

It wasn’t just about treating an injury.

It was about the person in front of him.

Serim, the man who had saved him.
The man who fought in the shadows.
The man Allen should have ignored, but couldn’t.

And for once, Serim wasn’t throwing out sarcastic remarks.

He was still. Too still.

Allen frowned and looked up.

Serim’s body had relaxed completely.
His breathing had slowed. His posture slumped slightly.

"Hey."

No response.

Allen reached out and gave his shoulder a small shake.

"Serim?"

Still nothing.

A cold sensation crept into his chest. Had he lost too much blood? Was he slipping into unconsciousness?

But then, he noticed something else.

The complete looseness of Serim’s body.
The heaviness in his limbs.
The way his eyelids barely fluttered open before sinking shut again.

He wasn’t unconscious. He was falling asleep.

Allen exhaled, relief washing over him.

Physical and mental exhaustion.
It was something Allen had seen many times before—in overworked prosecutors, in witnesses who had endured too much stress.

The body could only take so much before it forced itself to shut down. And judging by how Serim was barely keeping his eyes open, this had been building up for a long time.

Allen ran a hand down his face.
"Really? You chose this moment to pass out?" he muttered under his breath.

He glanced around. There was no way he could leave him out here. Not like this. Not when his neighbours could see him.

With a sigh, he stood up. He had one option left.
Even if it was a bad idea.

"This is a really bad idea…" he thought. "But what else am I supposed to do?"

He cast a glance at Serim, who still wasn’t reacting. Allen clenched his teeth.
"Alright, you win."

He crouched slightly, slid one arm under Serim’s legs, the other behind his back, and, with a controlled effort, lifted him up.
"Damn, he’s heavy."

Allen wasn’t weak—far from it. But Serim was built like stone. Even though he was leaner than he looked under his dark clothes, his body was firm, muscular.

Allen struggled for a moment to adjust to his weight, then pushed the door to his apartment open with his foot.

Inside, the room was plunged into calm darkness. Allen shut the door behind him and walked toward the living room, searching for a place to put Serim down. His eyes landed on his armchair near the window. It was an old, wide leather chair he had picked up when he first arrived in Korea. Comfortable, but rarely used.

He approached it and, carefully, set Serim down onto it. The man stirred slightly at the contact, his body instinctively seeking a more comfortable position.

Allen slowly stepped back, observing his face. For the first time, Serim looked at peace. His features remained tense, marked by exhaustion and strain, but his expression wasn’t as harsh, as closed-off as usual.

Allen crossed his arms, staring at him.
"Who are you, really?"

He still had so many questions. Why did Serim refuse to go to the hospital? Who had done this to him? Why was he always tangled up in the city’s shadows?

But tonight wasn’t the time.

Allen sighed, ran a hand down his face, and muttered, "I really have a fucking problem."

Then, he walked toward the kitchen—just in case—to grab a knife before returning to the couch, directly facing the armchair.

He definitely didn’t trust this guy.

He was going to stay awake until Serim woke up. Just in case.

This was all insane.

Why was he here, tending to a man he barely knew? He had promised Mark he wouldn’t get involved in these matters. He had convinced himself that it wasn’t his problem.

And yet…
Fate had led him back to this man.

****

"Allen-hyung, I—... OH MY GOD!"

Allen’s eyes snapped open, his heart skipping a beat. It took him a second to process where he was and what had just woken him up.

His apartment. His living room.

And in front of him, Hyeongjun, frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as if he had just seen a ghost.
Allen frowned, still groggy from sleep, and followed his friend’s horrified gaze.
Then, he understood.

Serim. Still asleep in the armchair, shirtless, a fresh bandage wrapped around his side. He fell asleep next to him.

There was a brief moment of silence before Hyeongjun screamed again.
"Who the hell is that guy?!"

"Shut up!" Allen exclaimed, rushing toward him.
He clapped a hand over Hyeongjun’s mouth, shaking him slightly.

Serim stirred a little, groaning in his sleep, his body tensing from evident discomfort.

"No, but—" Hyeongjun gently pulled Allen’s hand away, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Allen, explain to me why there’s a half-naked man in your living room?"

Allen sighed, rubbing his face with a tired hand.
"It’s not what you think."

"Not what I think?" Hyeongjun crossed his arms, smirking. "Then tell me, what exactly is it?"

Allen glanced at Serim, who, thankfully, seemed to have drifted back into deep sleep. He needed to calm Hyeongjun down before he woke up the lone wolf over there and turned this whole situation into a nightmare.

"He’s... a friend."

Hyeongjun raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
"A friend."

"Yes."

"A friend, who’s shirtless, sleeping in your armchair, while you were passed out on the couch?"

Allen opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He could see the ridiculous misunderstanding forming in Hyeongjun’s mind.

"Oh my god," Hyeongjun whispered, covering his mouth with one hand. "Am I interrupting something important?"

"For fuck’s sake, no!" Allen shot him a desperate look. "Stop imagining nonsense!"

Hyeongjun bit his lip, visibly holding back laughter.
"And anyway, what are you even doing here this early in the morning?"

"Hyung, I told you I’d come over if I didn’t hear from you. But I wasn’t expecting... this kind of scene." Hyeongjun grinned.

Allen instinctively turned toward the sleeping intruder.

The situation was weird.

Serim, half-naked, in the middle of his living room, with a neatly wrapped bandage on his side. Allen, passed out on the couch like an idiot.

Yeah. From an outsider’s perspective, this looked extremely suspicious.

Allen pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Look, it’s really not what you think."

"Then explain it to me."

"He’s just a friend I let stay over."
Hyeongjun studied him for a long moment before making a skeptical face.

"A friend... who walks around naked in your place?"

Allen closed his eyes briefly.
"He was injured. I patched him up."

"Oh." Hyeongjun seemed surprised.

Allen’s more serious tone finally seemed to convince Hyeongjun that this wasn’t something to joke about. He glanced at Serim with a more concerned expression before murmuring,

"Alright, okay. I won’t push." Then he shot Allen a mischievous look. "For now."

"Thanks." Allen let out a relieved sigh.

Hyeongjun stretched, as if he had just wrapped up an important deal, then took a few steps toward the door.

"I’ll leave you with your... ‘friend’ then."
He made sure to emphasize the word with a teasing grin.

Allen rolled his eyes.
"Get lost."

"I’m going, I’m going..."

He opened the door but paused before stepping out, pointing a finger at Allen.
"But I’m warning you—we are not done talking about this."

Then he disappeared into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Allen stood still for a few seconds before glancing at Serim, who, thankfully, hadn’t moved an inch.

He let out a long sigh.

He checked his phone. It was barely 7 AM, and he already knew this was going to be a long day.

Silence finally returned to the apartment, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city waking up.

Allen, still standing near the door, ran a hand through his hair, trying to process Hyeongjun’s sudden intrusion and the chaos he had caused in mere seconds.

He would deal with his questions later.
Much, much later.

"Your friend is very loud."

The deep, raspy voice behind him made him jump.

He turned around quickly and saw Serim awake, his gaze slightly narrowed, looking tired but strangely amused.

Allen blinked, before breathing out:

"Fuck, you almost gave me a heart attack."

Serim didn't answer, simply remaining seated in the chair, his gaze slowly trailing around the room.

Allen regained his composure and shrugged slightly.

"Sorry about Hyeongjun. He's a bit intrusive in his own way, but he's a nice guy..."

Still no answer.

Allen held back a sigh. He was really starting to wonder if this man had a normal mode of communication.

Serim finally moved, slowly straightening up from the chair. As soon as he was on his feet, he staggered slightly, his body still too weak to support too rapid a movement.

Allen, out of pure reflex, took a step towards him.
“Be careful.”

Serim, true to form, still didn’t react. He simply steadied his balance before beginning to walk towards the coffee table, his cold gaze analyzing every detail around him. Allen crossed his arms, watching him with slight frustration.

This guy is as expressive as a statue.

Serim had this strange way of moving, fluid but calculated, like a silent predator. Something about him was out of character for an ordinary civilian.

It was clear that he came from the shadows. From the dark.

He finally stopped near the couch, where an object immediately caught his attention.

The knife.

The one Allen had placed there last night, after having the brilliant idea of ​​sleeping with a weapon within reach, in case Serim wasn’t who he claimed to be.

Serim stared at the blade for a few seconds, then slowly turned his head toward Allen, a smirk on his lips.

“You took your precautions well.”

Allen felt the heat rise to his cheeks.
“It was… just in case.”

“Were you afraid the big bad wolf would eat you?”

Allen clenched his jaw.
“I was just being careful.”

A silence fell.

Serim finally looked away, spotting his abandoned t-shirt on a chair. He approached it, picked it up, and pulled it over his head in a quick motion.

Once dressed, he turned back to Allen, his gaze returning to its usual seriousness.

“Thanks.”

Allen blinked, slightly surprised.

“For?”

"For healing me, and keeping me in your apartment."

For a moment, Allen thought Serim was going to say something else.

But no.

The man started walking toward the door, as if everything that had just happened had never happened.

As if this night, this meeting, this twisted destiny… had no importance.

Allen watched him do it.

Watched him walk away. Something inside him twisted violently.

No. Not like this. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t a coincidence.

This wasn’t just a coincidence.

Three times, he had crossed paths with this man. Three times, he had been involved in a situation that was beyond him.

And now, he was just going to let him go, without trying to understand why?

No. Because Serim wasn’t just anyone.

Because, in front of him, he might have the key to wiping out all those gangs that were plaguing Seoul.

And he couldn’t ignore that.

Allen took a step forward, his gaze dark and determined. He took Serim’s wrist.

“Wait.”

Serim stopped short.

He didn’t turn around immediately, as if deciding whether to ignore Allen or give him his attention. His body was tense, and Allen knew that, in his head, he was already analyzing all the possible reasons why he could have held him back.

Finally, after a heavy silence, he turned his head slightly, without facing him.

“Maybe you can help me.”

How can I explain it to him? How can I put into words this visceral certainty that was twisting his guts, this feeling that none of this was a coincidence?

He took a small breath, trying to keep his tone calm and assured.

"I know you can help me."

Serim turned fully toward him, his dark eyes locking with his with icy intensity.

"Help you with what?"

Allen held his gaze.

"Take down the Vipers."

A dry chuckle escaped Serim's lips. He crossed his arms, cocking his head slightly to the side, studying him as if trying to unravel some unseen mystery.

"What are you, exactly?" he asked, his voice sharper. "A cop? An undercover agent? A government guy sent to test me?"

Allen felt an electric shock pass through the room.

Serim didn't take his eyes off him, and Allen knew that if he gave the wrong answer, this conversation was going to end very badly.

He shook his head gently, adopting a more relaxed posture, as if to show that he was neither a threat nor an enemy.

“I don’t work for the government.”

“So what’s your job, kid?”

Allen licked his lips slightly before answering. He knew full well that he had to lie. If he said he was a prosecutor, it was over. He had to find a safe job.

“We can say I’m an independent investigator”

Serim didn’t react immediately, but Allen saw the wariness in his gaze not wane. He wasn’t convinced.

“Independant investigator ?” he repeated slowly, as if he was tasting the words.

Allen nodded.
“I work on corruption cases, money laundering, all that stuff. I investigate suspicious cases, for myself.”

Allen wasn’t really lying. All these deals were real, they were just set up by the court... But he knew it could hold water, so he gave a strategic pause before adding, "And recently, several of these deals have led to the Vipers."

He saw a shadow cross Serim's eyes.

Serim sighed slightly, running a hand through his hair as if he were trying to put together the pieces of an incomplete puzzle.

"And you're so interested in it, to the point of coming for me?"

Allen clenched his fists.
"I want to see them fall."

Serim stared at him for a moment longer, then abruptly advanced toward him.

Allen felt a shiver of tension run down his spine, but he didn't back down.

Serim was only inches away, and his gaze was as sharp as a scalpel.

"Why are you so stubborn with them?" he hissed.

Allen felt his jaw clench slightly.
He knew he had to choose his words carefully.
“Because they’re destroying this city.”

Serim stared at him for a moment longer, then gave a mirthless smile.
“Is that the official story?”

Allen didn’t answer right away. He knew Serim could see right through him, knew it wasn’t just about justice or morality.

But this was a conversation he wasn’t ready to have.
“That’s the only story that matters.”

Serim huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head before backing away slightly.
“You want to team up?” he asked sarcastically.

Allen nodded.
“We want the same thing.”

Serim let out an unamused chuckle, crossing his arms again.

"Do you really think that it’s with a guy like you that it’s going to change anything?"

He shook his head, as if he found the idea ridiculous.

"It’s not with two people that we’re going to bring down a gang like the Vipers."

Allen took a deep breath, keeping his calm despite the obvious provocation.

Then he replied, his voice firmer:
"And you think that playing lone wolf is more effective?"

Serim didn’t answer immediately.

Allen continued before he could change the subject :
"If you were that strong on your own, they would have disappeared by now."

Serim stopped.

This silence was a victory.

For a moment, he seemed to weigh this sentence, to turn it over in his head, as if he had to admit that, perhaps, Allen wasn’t wrong.

"Look, don't you think it is a not coincidence ? Three times our paths met up. Don't you think it is a sign ?"

Serim raised a eyebrow.
"You believe in this shit ?"

From now on, Allen does.
"Enough to make me think all of this is not just coincidence."

Serin paused. Then, slowly, he released a sigh, running a hand over the back of his neck before looking up at Allen.

“Very well.”

Allen felt his heart skip a beat.

“We team up.”

But Serim wasn’t done. He looked at him, more serious this time.

“But on my terms.”

Allen nodded slowly.
“What are those?”

Serim stepped back slightly, as if still assessing the situation, then said in a calm but sharp voice, “First, you don’t ask about me. I can’t stand when someone is trying to get in my life."

Allen opened his mouth, but Serim stopped him with a simple look.

“Second, if I say we stop, we stop. No discussion. If I see that you’re no use, I’m out.”

He paused before adding,

“And third,” he tilted his head slightly, “you stay alive.”

Allen frowned.

“Is that supposed to be a rule for me, or one for you?”

Serim smirked.

“Both.”

Allen felt a slight shiver run down his spine.

This pact wasn’t perfect.
But it was real.
And for now, that was enough.

Serim was still facing him, his gaze piercing, his body slightly withdrawn, as if he were ready to disappear at the slightest mistake.

Allen, for his part, could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had just made a pact with the most enigmatic man he had ever met, and yet it didn’t seem as crazy as he had thought.

But there was one last thing to take care of.

“We need a place to meet,” Allen said, breaking the silence.

Serim looked at him, as if he had already expected what he was going to say.

“We could meet at my place,” Allen suggested, in a tone he wanted to sound natural.

He didn’t even have time to finish before Serim was already shaking his head.

“No way.” His tone was dry.

Allen raised an eyebrow.
“Why not?”

“Do you want a list or a diagram?” Serim replied sarcastically.

Allen crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation anyway.

Serim sighed, then fixed his dark eyes on his.
“A fixed location is a loophole. Anyone who watches us will be able to see that we often end up there. And your place?” He shook his head. “If someone ever follows me, I’m not the one who’s going to pay the price, kid.”

Allen pursed his lips, thinking. He understood Serim’s implacable logic, even if it frustrated him a little.

“So do you have a better idea?”

Serim gave a slight smirk, one of those that didn’t bode well.

He backed away slightly, as if he wanted to leave already, before saying in a neutral tone:

“There’s an old internet cafe in Hongdae. The guy who runs it turns a blind eye to the slightly… peculiar customers. Nobody asks questions there.”

Allen raised an eyebrow.

“Internet cafe? Seriously?”

“You got something better?”

Allen sighed. No, he didn’t.

And he knew Serim would never pick a random place. So Allen nodded. "Okay. When can we meet?”

Serim put his hands in his pockets.
“Best to go in the morning, so there aren’t too many people around.”

Allen nodded. Morning was a good strategy, but there weren’t many days he didn’t start work after morning.

“Tomorrow morning, I’m free.”

Serim looked at him, a smile forming on his lips.
“We’ll meet at that internet cafe tomorrow morning. You’ll find it quickly, it’s pretty noticeable.” Allen replied with a nod.

Serim just nodded in return, before turning to leave.

He reached the door, putting his hand on the handle, ready to disappear into the night, as he knew so well how to do.

But before he left, Allen said, in a clear voice :

“By the way.”

Serim stopped, but didn’t turn around immediately.

Allen felt a slight tension in the air, a last chance to affirm something.

So, he simply said :
“My name is Ma Allen.”

Serim didn’t move right away. Then, slowly, he turned his head slightly, just enough for Allen to see his profile.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“We’ll see if it’s worth to remind it.”

Then, he opened the door and disappeared.

Allen stood there for a moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where he had been standing.
He didn't know what he had gotten himself into.

But one thing was for sure.

There was no turning back now.

Chapter Text

The sky was still gray, tinged with the cold hues of morning before the sun had fully risen. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of damp asphalt and coffee from the street stands just beginning to open.

Allen walked at a steady pace through the still-quiet streets of Seoul, a stark contrast to the nighttime, when the district would come alive with laughter, music, and flashing neon lights.

At this hour, only a few tired silhouettes moved along the sidewalks : office workers, coffee deliverymen, night owls returning home after a too-long evening.

The internet cafe was just a few meters away. An old building squeezed between a 24-hour laundromat and a ramen restaurant. The sign, somewhat faded, blinked weakly : "P-Center."

No visible storefront, just a metal door that had clearly seen better days.

Allen took a breath before pushing it open. He stepped inside, hoodie pulled low over his head, a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face, and large black sunglasses hiding his features.

He looked almost like a caricature of a clumsy spy—and he knew it. But he hadn’t found a better disguise. Being recognized here, while his face might already be flagged in a mafia surveillance network, was a risk he couldn’t afford.

Allen glanced toward the counter where a burly man in his forties, eyes tired, was absentmindedly cleaning a cup.

Without even looking up, the man muttered in a flat voice,
“Private room, in the back.”

Allen didn’t ask how he knew what he was here for.

He nodded and moved past the rows of monitors. A bluish light flickered at the back of the room, and slouched in a worn leather chair, Serim was waiting.

He was holding a half-empty energy drink can, tapping it absentmindedly against the table. As soon as he looked up, a smirk spread across his face.

“Seriously?” he said in a low but clearly audible voice. “You look like a failed spy in low budget drama.”

Allen slowly removed his sunglasses, then his mask, setting them both on the table with a sigh.
“I’d rather look ridiculous than end up in a ditch for being too recognizable.”

“If anyone’s watching, you’ll attract more attention dressed like that.” Serim took another sip from his can. “You look like you’re about to rob a convenience store.”

Allen didn’t respond. He pulled out the chair next to him, sat down, and opened his laptop. Once connected to his local system, he turned to Serim.

“All right. How do you want to go about this?” Serim asked calmly, almost neutrally. But his eyes stayed sharp, focused.

Allen took a few seconds before replying. He knew this conversation would define the course of their partnership.

“We work with what we’ve got. I dig for info on my side. You give me what you know—what you see, what you hear. We cross-reference the data, connect the dots, and find a crack. There’s got to be one somewhere.”

Serim was quiet for a moment. He set down his can, tapped his fingers on the desk surface, then said,
“Just two people against them. It’s suicide. Even with what we find. This isn’t some street gang. It’s a web. Tendrils everywhere.”

Allen nodded, not arguing.
“That’s true. But webs always have a center. If we trace it far enough, we’ll find it. And we don’t need to bring them all down. Just hit the right spot.”

Serim stared at the screen in front of him without really looking.
“I never found their main base. Too compartmentalized. Too secure. I think, even their pawns don't know it. No one knows it.”

“How do they organize?” Allen asked, opening a blank page in his notes app. “How do orders get passed down? Who’s in charge?”

Serim turned slightly toward him, curious.
“You’re taking notes?”

Allen glanced sideways at him, focused.
“I’m not like you. I don’t remember everything by beating people up.”

A small smile appeared on Serim’s lips.
“You’re pretty damn meticulous, huh?”

Allen kept typing, fingers moving quickly over the keyboard.
“There’s got to be a brain in this alliance.”

A pause.

Then Serim slowly sat up, crossing his arms.
“Are you implying I’m dumb?”

Allen looked up, feigning innocence.
“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you thought it real loud.” Serim leaned in a little, eyes sharp.
“Lucky for you, you’re not wrong. You’re the brain. I’m the knife.”

Allen opened his mouth to respond, but Serim leaned forward, locking eyes with him. Allen flinched slightly.

“I’m experienced on the ground,” Serim explained. “They’re sneaky. Always move in packs. They’ll find a way to take you down.”

“Do they have any specific operations?” Allen asked, fingers poised on the keyboard again.

Serim glanced at the screen, then nodded.
“From what I know, they do a lot of money transfers, offshore stuff. We might be able to catch them there.”

Allen nodded, noting everything down. Serim definitely seemed to know what he was talking about, and Allen realized that maybe forming this alliance wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“I’ll pull whatever I can. Names, financial movements, archived cases. It’ll take time, but it might crack something open.”

Serim nodded slowly. He looked down at his bag, opened it, and pulled out a small black USB drive—plain and nondescript. He twirled it between his fingers before handing it to Allen.

“Here,” he said, his voice a bit deeper than usual. “With this, we can communicate.”

Allen took the USB, intrigued.

“It’s called Xikey. A peer-to-peer encrypted app. No servers. No numbers. If someone tries to hack it, the conversation self-destructs.”

Allen examined the USB for a moment, then tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Serim had clearly thought of everything.

“We’ll need pseudonyms. No real names. No personal clues.”

“Got it,” Allen said. “I’ll come up with something.”

Serim stood up then, grabbing his half-empty can.

He extended his hand to Allen.

“Hope you do a good job.”

Allen shook it without hesitation.

“You too.”

Serim said nothing else. He turned on his heel, shoulders slightly tense, and walked out of the room without looking back.

Allen sat there a moment longer, alone with the still-blank screen.

Then he opened a new file and typed:

“Joint Operation – Objective: map the network.”

He didn’t have all the answers. But he had a mission now.

And for it, he wasn’t alone.

****

The restaurant was small and cozy, its walls decorated with faded picture frames and hanging lightbulbs casting a golden glow. The kind of place that smelled of youth, aborted study nights, and improvised reunions.

The table Allen, Wonjin, Taeyoung, and Seongmin occupied was slightly tucked away, near the foggy bay window steamed up by the hot dishes.

Allen sat in front of a meal he hadn’t touched yet, chopsticks resting neatly on the edge of his bowl. He listened to his friends laugh, chat, and bicker with a quiet fondness. His gaze drifted from face to face, but his mind was elsewhere.

He kept thinking about this morning. That meeting with Serim, the fact that everything was gradually building up.

He was really making an alliance with a man he'd only known for a few weeks, and who was perhaps dangerous.

Maybe Allen was crazy.

He doesn't know where this whole thing will lead him, but he hopes it will help him reach his goal. Their goal

A voice yanked him back to reality.

"Allen! Are you daydreaming or what?" Wonjin asked, waving his chopsticks in front of Allen’s face.

Allen blinked, startled, and sat up straighter.
"What?"

"I said : when are you going to start eating? That’s your dish, not a piece of art."

Allen gave a sheepish smile.
"Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About something, or someone?" Seongmin added, raising an eyebrow.

"It’s the effect of long-term singleness," Taeyoung muttered dramatically, pretending to wipe away a tear.

Allen opened his mouth, ready to replied. But before anyone could follow up, a new subject burst into the conversation :

"By the way," Taeyoung said, straightening up a bit, "I got accepted into the program I wanted."

"Me too," Seongmin added quickly, as if not to be left out.

Allen looked up, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
"That’s great! Which program?"

"Applied Anthropology," Taeyoung announced proudly.

Allen grinned widely. It was a field Taeyoung had been passionate about for a while, and he was truly glad for him. He turned to Seongmin.

"And you, Seongmin?"

Seongmin took a look at Taeyoung, who was smiling a little bit, and turned to Allen.

"Same," Seongmin replied, arms crossed, pretending to be indifferent.

Wonjin burst out laughing.
"You guys are inseparable, it’s ridiculous. You do realize you’re allowed to do stuff on your own, right?"

"It wasn’t on purpose," Seongmin mumbled, blushing.

"Yeah," Taeyoung added, eyes fixed on his bowl, red as a tomato.

Wonjin laughed even harder.
"I swear, just get married already. It’d be faster. You’re clearly meant to be together."

Seongmin punched him lightly on the shoulder, only making Wonjin laugh more.

"Shut up, Hyung."

Allen watched them, smiling quietly. There was something comforting in their dynamic. The kind of solid friendship forged through years, fights, and shared secrets.

He knew that, no matter what they said, Seongmin and Taeyoung were happy to be on the same path.

Their personalities were vastly different : Seongmin was calm, analytical, a bit cynical. Taeyoung, impulsive, social, always driven by emotion.

But there was an unspoken bond between them that didn’t need explaining. Allen helped them when they needed. When they were lost in their studies, Allen was there to help them. He has always loved them, as his young brothers.

Then his gaze shifted to Wonjin.

Ham Wonjin. The essential friend. The silent stabilizer of his early days in Seoul. When Allen first arrived in the city, disoriented, Wonjin had been there—the reliable guy from Hyeongjun’s friend group, who knew all the admin hacks, housing tips, and Korean social norms Allen hadn’t mastered yet.

A cybersecurity student back then, he was now a graduate, a highly sought-after technician, and a consultant for companies Allen didn’t even dare name aloud. Smart, funny, discreet, he had become a cornerstone without ever being asked.

"You’re talking, but you don’t even have a boyfriend yourself." Seongmin teased again.

Wonjin’s smile faltered for just a second, then he shrugged.

"I don’t need a boyfriend to move forward."

Allen glanced at him thoughtfully. It was true. Come to think of it, Wonjin never spoke about relationships. Never a name, never a hint, even when the others shared stories about flings or exes.

Like him, Wonjin seemed consumed by other priorities.

Their lives weren’t driven by romance, but by purpose.

Dinner wrapped up slowly. Conversations faded, dishes cooled. Taeyoung and Seongmin got up first, still arguing, this time about their future uniform colors.

Allen was simply watched them walk away through the window, arm in arm, throwing playful insults at each other.

Wonjin followed them with his gaze and muttered with a smirk :

"If those two idiots aren’t together by the end of the year, I’m changing my name."

They left the restaurant together. The sidewalk was still damp from earlier rain. The streets bustled with life, but nothing seemed to disturb this little moment suspended between the two of them.

Wonjin stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.

"It’s been a while since we hung out. Just the two of us."

Allen nodded.
"Work. You know how it is."

Wonjin sighed. He was busy too. People might think Allen and Wonjin had little in common, but when it came to work, they were equally rigorous—both willing to do whatever it took to succeed. Maybe that’s why they’d bonded so quickly.

"What kind of cases are you working on these days?" Wonjin asked as they walked side by side.

Allen paused for a moment. He knew where that question could lead.
"A bit of everything. Lately, it’s been a lot of trafficking. Drugs, mostly."

Wonjin nodded slowly, eyes still facing forward.
"Yeah… there’s more and more of that. I see stuff online, rumors. A lot of mafia groups moving in the shadows."

Allen stiffened slightly. Just for a second.

Wonjin turned toward him, observant, but not pressing.
"You hear much about that at the courthouse?"

Allen nodded, a bit tight.
"A bit. Some files mention it. But nothing concrete."

"Mmh. Sounds like a drama plot," Wonjin shrugged. "We’re not in Weak Hero, after all."

Allen chuckled. Just a bit too loudly. To mask the tension.

They reached the courthouse gates, and Wonjin stopped.

"Well, I’ll leave you to your serious government job."

"Thanks for the title," Allen said with a smile.

"You owe me another dinner. And not in two months this time." Wonjin gave him a wink.

Allen raised a hand in silent promise. Wonjin turned and walked away.

Allen stood there for a moment, watching him until his silhouette disappeared into the crowd.

Then, he stepped into the building.

And just like that, Serim’s shadow was back on his shoulders.

****

The courthouse lobby was always bustling at this hour, swarming with lawyers in immaculate suits, clerks hurrying from one office to another, and reporters trying to snatch statements from the faces of justice. A constant hum filled the air, punctuated by the clack of heels on the tiled floor and hushed whispers.

Allen walked through the corridors with brisk steps, well accustomed to the chaos. He’d spent enough time in this building to know every corner, recognize every face, predict every dynamic.Nothing here surprised him anymore.

Yet today, his heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Because this time, it wasn’t about handling an ordinary case. It was about digging deeper, maybe too deep.

He’d remembered, during a conversation with Jihyo and Taeyang, that they’d mentioned a young man found murdered near the Han River. He was suspected to have been involved with the mafia—the Vipers.

Allen had thought it might be a perfect lead.

Serim didn’t know he worked in a courthouse, and thank God for that. He would never have agreed to work with him otherwise.

That’s why Allen lied, claiming that the discoveries came from his own investigations as an independent investigator, not as a prosecutor.

Nothing bad could come from this, right ?

It’s not like they were going to become friends anyway.

As he entered the open-space, he spotted Jihyo standing by a shelf full of folders, a pen tucked behind her ear, leafing through a document while holding her phone against her shoulder. Multitasking as always, she juggled three tasks without missing a beat.

He approached calmly, casting a quick glance around. Nothing unusual.

“Jihyo,” he called quietly, not wanting to attract attention.

She looked up, shifted the phone from her ear into her hand. “You need something?”

Allen glanced at the file cabinet. He hesitated for half a second, then asked in a neutral tone, “Do we have a file on the young guy who was killed recently? Nineteen years old.”

Jihyo raised an eyebrow. “The one they found near the Han River?”

Allen nodded. She seemed to think for a second, then nodded back. “Hold on.”

She put down the folder she was holding, turned to the locked metal cabinet behind her, and inserted a small key into the third drawer. After rummaging through it for a few seconds, she pulled out a slightly thinner folder than the rest. “Son Jihun, right?”

Allen nodded again, his throat tightening slightly.

She handed it to him, asking curiously, “What do you want to do with it?”

“I want to verify a few things,” he replied plainly.

Jihyo stared at him for a few seconds, as if weighing her words. Then she sighed and let go of the file.

“Honestly, since he was involved in mafia stuff, I doubt the prosecution’s going to push the investigation very far.”

Allen pretended to be surprised, though his tone remained calm. “Me neither. But I still want to go over a few elements.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, her face serious. “Bring it back before the end of the day. I’m not supposed to hand it over that easily. But since you’re one of the top prosecutors here, I guess it’ll pass.”

“Promise. Thanks, Jihyo.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile crept onto her lips. “Good thing I like you.”

Allen gave her a complicit smile, then firmly took the file. He made his way quickly to his office, avoiding eye contact along the way.

Once inside, he closed the door carefully, drew the blinds over the interior window, and sat down.

His computer was already on. He opened a new file in his personal space, naming it “SJH_Investigation.” He glanced one last time at the hallway, then laid the folder on the desk and opened it slowly.

The first pages detailed the standard information: identity, nearly clean criminal record, student status.

Son Jihun. Nineteen years old. Recently accepted into Sungkyunkwan University. Brilliant academic record. Wealthy family. Parents in the luxury trade business.

But the tone quickly shifted.

Next page : police report. Crime scene notes. Estimated time of death was at 2 a.m., on the banks of the Han River. Bruising on the skull, but more notably, toxins found in his blood. Traces of ecstasy, ketamine.

The cause of death was still under debate : overdose, or a beating that worsened the effects of the drugs?

Allen frowned. He flipped through the following pages more slowly.

Observation reports stated he’d been seen, weeks before his death, in the company of young men flagged for ties to drug dealers.

Several locations were mentioned : a bar in Hongdae, an underground parking lot in Itaewon, and a rundown building little far from the city center.

Allen opened a spreadsheet in his file and noted everything : locations, dates, rough names.

One detail caught his eye : the bank statements.

There were a series of large withdrawals over a two-month period. Up to three million won each time. Some from ATMs. Some from banks requiring a signed form.

Then one final transaction. Thirty million won. In a single payment. Made three days before his death.

Recipient : Jang Hontak.

Allen didn’t recognize the name. He quickly searched the courthouse database, careful not to be seen. The name came up in money laundering cases. Nothing confirmed. Just suspicions—never proven.

Allen paused, re-read the transfer. Why would a teenager make such a large transfer to a man already on law enforcement’s radar?
Extortion? Payment for a favor? Protection?

Was he being threatened if he didn’t pay?

He jotted everything down, his fingers typing automatically, focused. He knew he couldn’t act on this officially. But it was a lead. A real one.

As he began linking the frequented locations to the suspicious transaction, a voice behind him made him jump :

“You’re still working this late?”

Allen turned around quickly, instinctively closing the document. He immediately recognized the silhouette in the doorway.

Mark.

Allen forced a smile. “Yeah. Just catching up on some backlog.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Backlog ? At this hour?”

Allen shrugged. “I don’t want to be buried in files tomorrow.”

Mark walked closer, as if trying to see what Allen was working on. But he didn’t press. He glanced around, then said calmly, “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

Allen opened his mouth, but Mark raised a hand. “Judge Kang is expecting you. I just came from his office—he said you need to drop by.”

Allen nodded. “I’m on my way.”

Mark watched him for a few more seconds, then turned and left without another word.

As the door closed, Allen sat still for a moment, his heartbeat a little faster than it should be. He slowly reopened his file.

Everything looked intact.

He quickly skimmed his notes again. The name “Jang Hontak” was bolded and boxed. Maybe there was nothing solid to find here. But it was a start. A trail. A point of entry.

Serim might know something.

Allen didn’t fully understand his connection to the Vipers—and didn’t want to ask directly—but he knew Serim had been involved with them, somehow.

He closed the physical file, slipped it into a folder. He knew he wouldn’t get everything from one case, but by cross-referencing with others, he might start seeing a pattern.

He packed up his laptop, locked the file in a secure encrypted folder. Before leaving, he looked one last time at the name on the cover.

Son Jihun.

A name drowned in the silence of justice.
But not for him.
Not while he could still search.

****

The trip back home unfolded under a heavy sky, tinged with gray and fatigue. Allen walked with quick but distracted steps, his mind still tangled in the details of the file he had just closed.

The names, the numbers, the places. It was all looping in his head. The Son Jihun case wasn’t just another forgotten incident. It was a door left ajar, a thread of truth clumsily tied shut over a much larger, more rotten world.

He reached his apartment without even realizing it, climbing the stairs to his familiar landing.

He tossed his keys on the entrance table, shrugged off his jacket, and went straight to the kitchen. No TV, no pause. Just habit. Preparing food while working through what needed to be done.

While water heated on the stove, he pulled his laptop from his bag, sat at the kitchen table, and immediately plugged in the USB stick Serim had given him.

One could question why Allen trusted Serim so easily. Why he didn’t suspect the USB might carry a virus or something worse.

Strangely, Allen wondered the same thing.

The screen blinked briefly before a minimalistic black window opened. A small red logo pulsed at the center before a prompt appeared.

[Enter your pseudonym]

Allen hesitated. He glanced at the window, as if someone might be watching him. Then he typed, without overthinking :
"Runi"

Then a new window opened. Simple. No tabs. No menus. Just a chat interface, with a single active thread.

He typed after a moment’s pause :

Runi: "Hello?"

A few seconds later, a line of text appeared:

Kuroim : "You managed to launch the program?"

Allen raised an eyebrow. No politeness. It had to be Serim.

But that pseudonym, was it a reference to the character Kuromi? No way. A guy as cold and sharp as Serim couldn’t possibly be into that kind of stuff, right?

Kuroim : "Not very original, your alias. But it works."

Allen chuckled softly, tapped a few keys, then followed up :

Runi: "I found some info today. Could be useful."

The reply came quickly.

Kuroim : "I’m listening."

Allen took a breath and began summarizing what he had found: the identity of the victim, his shady connections, the listed locations, the bank transfers, and especially the name Jang Hontak. 

The response came a minute or two later—long enough to show Serim was reading carefully.

Kuroim : "Not bad, kid."

Allen surprised himself by smiling a little bit.

Runi: "Ever heard of Jang Hontak?"

Kuroim : "Nope. But a name like that? Definitely a pawn. If someone’s using his real name, he’s not important. The big ones leave no trace."

Runi: "And the locations? The bar, the parking lot, the local place?"

Kuroim : "The local spot sounds most legit. A public bar’s too risky for serious meetings. Same for a parking lot. Too many eyes. Too many ears."

Allen thought for a second, fingers moving slowly.

Runi: "What if they just blended in? Dressed like normal people?"

The reply took a bit longer. When it came, it was direct—almost mocking.

Kuroim : "You’re not as innocent as you look."

Allen smiled. He typed, without thinking too much:

Runi: "You haven’t seen anything yet."

He froze. What did he just write? Since when did he talk like that—to Serim, of all people?

Before the doubt could fully settle, a new message appeared:

Kuroim : "Can’t wait to see, then."

Allen blinked. A chill crawled up his spine.

He paused for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard, struggling to find the right response. Too many options, none felt right. Fortunately, Serim steered them back:

Kuroim : "So? What’s the plan, Sherlock? Am I hitting the field or what?"

Allen exhaled, grateful for the shift back to serious business.

Runi: "I think we should check out the local building. Just observe. Nothing aggressive."

Kuroim : "You sure you wanna come? You might end up being more trouble than help."

Allen rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, typing a little more forcefully:

Runi: "Need I remind you that I saved your ass twice?"

Kuroim : "Fair point. Thanks, by the way."

Kuroim : "If you really want to come, fine. But you stay outside. If things go sideways, I don’t want to be dragging you out on top of everything else."

Allen raised an eyebrow.

Runi: "It’s just observation."

He watched the cursor blink, anticipating another snarky remark. But none came. Instead, the tone softened.

Kuroim : "I’ll send you the exact location tomorrow morning. I’ll do a recon run during the day."

Allen nodded to himself, even though no one was watching.

A few seconds later, another message popped up :

Kuroim :  "With Xikey, we can send message even if we have no wifi. You can also download it on your phone."

Allen smirked. He had to admit, Serim had thought of everything. The guy was born for this world. The danger, the scheming, the shadows.

Allen thought he was the opposite—yet now, maybe not so different. He was knee-deep in this world, too.

One final line appeared :

Kuroim : "On this system, we don't name each other by their name, got it ?"

Kuroim : " ‘Runi’ is good. Keep it."

Runi: "Got it. And you ? Kuroim ?"

Kuroim : "Yeah."

Allen burst out laughing, alone in his kitchen. He doesn’t know but this username doesn't feel right on Serim. Maybe it was too cute for him.

He hadn’t even noticed the water had boiled over. He turned off the stove, eyes still glued to the screen.

Kuromim : "I will message you tomorrow."

Runi: "You’re just going to leave like that ? Not even a proper goodbye?"

A minute passed. Then two.

Finally, the message came :

Kuroim : "Goodbye, Runi."

Allen sat motionless. He slowly closed his laptop, heart pounding a little harder than he liked. He exhaled deeply.

The mission was only just beginning. But he already knew this wasn’t just about chasing criminals.

It was going to be much more complicated than that.