Chapter Text
YOU MUST STOP BLAMING YOURSELF
FORGET THOSE MEMORIES, THEY'RE NOT GOOD FOR YOU
NOW TELL ME, WHAT DO YOU SEE?
WAKE UP!
Munhyeon, Busan. 2:56 p.m.
Dong Plaza used to be pure madness, people everywhere, noise nonstop noise. But today? Totally different vibe. For some it was all hope and dreams; for others it felt like a powder keg waiting to blow. Banners were flapping all over the place with the campaign slogan: “A NEW DAWN FOR BUSAN.” Reporters shoving each other, camera flashes going off like crazy. But behind the black stage curtain, there was a whole other world.
Jackson was rubbing his hands, peeking past the curtain. His best friend and campaign manager, Jaebeom, clocked the twitch right away and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Chill, bro...!”
“...Look at all those people,” he nodded toward the roaring crowd. “Every single one of them believes in you.”
Jackson sighed.
“Believing is the easy part, Jae...”
“...But they’re expecting me to fix this whole damn city. That’s a ton of pressure.”
“Aish, quit whining! Who else is gonna do it? Senator Cho? Pfft, that old man can’t even turn on his phone. You were born for this, Jackson. Now get your ass out there and show ’em why you’re the man.”
Before Jackson could snap back, the music cut dead. Silence slammed into the plaza. Jackson’s heart went into overdrive. He glanced at Jaebeom, who winked and gave him one last shove toward the curtain.
The second he stepped out, the place exploded: cheers, applause, cameras popping nonstop, catching every bit of that perfect entrance. Jackson threw up a hand and flashed that killer smile, the one that could sell hope or start wars. The same smile that’d be all over the news tonight.
Meanwhile, in the VIP section, Jinyoung—Jackson’s so-called “best friend”—was frozen like a statue. Jaw clenched so tight you could almost hear his teeth grinding. Jaebeom spotted it instantly. Still clapping with the crowd, he leaned in close.
“You good, Mr. Park?”
Jinyoung didn’t even blink.
“What do you think...?”
“...I’m sick of pretending. Tired of hiding what I have with Jackson just because of this damn campaign.”
Jaebeom raised an eyebrow, not taking him in.
“That’s the game, and you agreed to play. Once we win, it’ll all be worth it. Picture it: first Busan, then Seoul... hell, maybe even the Blue House!”
Jinyoung gave a bitter laugh.
“The Blue House? Keep dreaming.” He looked back at Jackson owning the stage like a king. “Let’s just survive today first.”
Up on stage, Jackson grabbed the mic and took a deep breath.
“Busan! I know y’all are fed up with the same old bullshit!” he yelled, and the crowd lost their minds. “We’ve put up with a government that screws over regular people for way too long! But that ends today... right here, right now! Together we’re building a fair city, one that doesn’t just protect the rich! Busan’s gonna be the blueprint for a better future! A NEW DAWN FOR BUSAN!”
The reaction was insane: screaming, jumping, banners waving like crazy.
“He’s good,” Jaebeom muttered from his seat.
“The best,” Jinyoung whispered, pain lacing every word only he could hear.
And then... BANG! One gunshot. Everything stopped.
A bodyguard near the stage tumbled down the stairs, blood pouring, dead before he hit the ground. Pure chaos erupted. People started shoving, trampling signs, parents scooping up kids, reporters ducking behind cameras still rolling, live-streaming the nightmare to the world.
Jaebeom shot up, yelling into his earpiece.
“GET JACKSON OFF THE STAGE! NOW!”
Security formed a human wall around the podium.
“Protect Park!” Jaebeom barked, and two guards yanked Jinyoung out of his seat.
Jaebeom sprinted onstage and grabbed Jackson’s arm.
“Move your ass, NOW!”
BANG! Another shot blew out a speaker. People screaming, running everywhere. Jaebeom scanned the skyline and spotted it: the Stella Hotel.
“They’re shooting from up there!” he shouted, pointing.
BANG! BANG! Two more bullets ripped through the stage curtain. Jaebeom’s heart was in his throat.
“Get Wang outta here!”
A black SUV was waiting at the exit. Bodyguards basically carried Jackson, his feet scrambling to keep up. Jinyoung got shoved in right after, pale and panting. Jaebeom jumped in last, slamming the door.
“GO!”
The SUV peeled out. Sirens wailed behind them, mixing with the fading screams.
BANG! A bullet spider-webbed the back window. Jinyoung ducked, hands over his head as the car swerved through narrow streets.
“Get down!” Jaebeom yelled, and then felt fire in his shoulder. Blood. Grazed.
The SUV fishtailed, smashed into a parked car, sparks flying. The driver floored it toward an underpass. Jaebeom winced, pain stabbing deeper. He yanked off his jacket, pressed it to the wound. Jackson’s eyes went wide when he saw the blood.
“Jae... you’re hit!”
Jinyoung peeked up, face white.
“Hyung, you’re bleeding bad!”
Jaebeom waved them off, forcing a grin even though he looked like a ghost.
“Relax, I’m not dying over a little love tap.”
Jackson frowned, shaking.
“This is serious, Jae. You need a hospital.”
“When we’re safe,” Jaebeom snapped. “Faster!” he yelled at the driver.
The SUV dove into the tunnel, city and chaos disappearing behind them. Jackson and Jinyoung locked eyes, pure fear and guilt staring back.
“What the hell just happened...?” Jackson whispered.
Jaebeom dragged a hand down his face, fighting the pain.
“Somebody just tried to kill you, Jackson.”
Homicide Division, Busan. 4:52 p.m.
The bullpen was straight-up hell. Screens looping the Munhyeon shooting on repeat, officers zooming in on every damn pixel, phones ringing off the hook, cops yelling over each other, and the whole city screaming for answers.
Inside his office, Captain Seo Changbin, 5'7" of pure muscle, was about to pop a vein. He was pacing next to his desk with the phone glued to his ear. Young for the rank, but the guy had a rep for being a ruthless hardass. Right now though, the voice on the other end wasn’t handing out gold stars.
“We’re doing everything we can to ID the shooter...”
“...Yes, sir. We’ll handle it.”
Call ends. Changbin slams the phone down—BAM!—then drags a hand over his forehead like he’s trying to squash the migraine pounding his skull.
Door swings open. In strolls Lieutenant Hwang like the chaos outside is a joke. Tall, slim, golden hair falling in his face. Also way too young for his rank, but the guy’s record makes veterans jealous.
“Tell me you’ve got good news, Lieutenant,” Changbin basically begs.
Hyunjin pulls a face that screams nope.
“Mayor already dropped his statement, Cap.”
“And? Is he blaming us?” Changbin asks, already knowing the answer.
“Duh. Of course he’s blaming us, hyung,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Says we let some psycho waltz in and turn Wang’s big day into a goddamn shooting gallery.”
Changbin punches the desk so hard a stack of files goes flying.
“We were running security! Some asshole almost blows Wang’s head off in front of the entire world! We had every entrance locked down, snipers on rooftops, elite bodyguards. How the hell does someone pull that off and then just vanish?”
“We’re on it, Cap. Area’s sealed, my team’s tearing apart the Stella Hotel. If the shooter was up there, we’ll find something. But... it’s gonna take a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute, Hwang! If we don’t crack this, the election’s fucked, the mayor keeps pointing fingers, and we’re the dumbasses with the noose around our necks!”
Hyunjin nods, suddenly serious.
“Let’s get ahead of it. Drop a statement before City Hall buries us alive.”
Changbin freezes, still fuming, and squints at him.
“A statement?” he repeats, sarcastic. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry Busan, we’re so useless we let a lunatic turn the rally into a turkey shoot’? That what you want, idiot?”
“Cap, breathe,” Hyunjin says, stepping closer until he’s right in front of the desk. “You’re wound way too tight. You’re gonna blow a gasket.”
Changbin frowns, caught between pissed and confused. The way Hyunjin’s staring at him, with zero shame, all heat, makes his fists clench.
“And what do you suggest? I sip tea and meditate while Busan burns?”
⚠️WARNING!!!⚠️
[THE FOLLOWING SCENE CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT (NSFW)]
Hyunjin chuckles low, eyes never leaving Changbin’s. He licks his lips, slow, then walks around the desk, closing the gap.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he whispers. “How about I help you... blow off some steam?”
“What the fuck are you on about, Hwang?”
“C’mon, hyung,” Hyunjin breathes against his ear. “I know you’re pissed. And I know exactly how to fix it.”
“Not the time—” Changbin starts, but it comes out weak.
Hyunjin doesn’t back off. One hand slides up Changbin’s thigh, the other trails down his chest, stopping right above his belt.
“I know what you need. And trust me... I wanna give it to you.”
“Lieutenant, stop—” Changbin’s voice cracks. "We can't keep doing this."
“Really?” Hyunjin murmurs, brushing his palm lower, grazing the bulge already straining against fabric.
Changbin gasps and drops back into his chair. Hyunjin sinks to his knees without waiting, spreads Changbin’s legs like it’s nothing, and slowly pulls down the zipper.
“Shit, Hwang—” Changbin mutters as Hyunjin frees him, already half-hard, wrapping his fingers around it.
Hyunjin looks up, smirking.
“Look at you. Rock hard for me already.”
He keeps eye contact while dragging his tongue up the length. Changbin grips the armrests. Hyunjin takes him into his mouth. Slow, hot, wet... swirling around the tip before sliding deeper, lips tight in all the right spots.
“Like that?” Hyunjin hums, pulling off just long enough to lick his lips.
“Shut up and keep going.”
Hyunjin grins and dives back in, deeper, faster, sucking hard enough to make Changbin arch off the chair. One hand tangles in that golden hair, pushing, guiding... even though Hyunjin clearly doesn’t need it. Slow licks turn into filthy pulls that have Changbin moaning, the whole world outside disappearing. It’s just wet heat, perfect rhythm, and pressure building way too fast in his gut. Hyunjin feels it, speeds up, hand and mouth working together until—
“Hyunjin—fuck—I’m—”
Warning too late. Changbin comes with a choked groan, shaking, vision white. Hyunjin pulls off, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks.
“Told you I’d relax you, hyung.”
He stands up while Changbin’s still dazed, trying to zip up with shaky hands and a flushed face.
“You’re an idiot,” Changbin mutters, no heat behind it.
⚠️END OF EXPLICIT CONTENT⚠️
“So... statement?” Hyunjin asks, softer now.
“Fine, damn it, you win,” Changbin sighs, way calmer. “Call the Channel 3 guy. But not the one who spits when he talks.”
Hyunjin grins.
“The cute one? Dimples and nice ass?”
“Yeah, him. Tell him we’re making a statement before I lose my mind.”
“Got it, Cap.” Hyunjin pauses at the door. “Should I tell him to bring snacks? I’m starving.”
“Later, Hwang.”
Hyunjin laughs on his way out.
“Deal. I’ll ask pretty boy to bring soju too... and maybe some chips for me.”
Door shuts. Changbin slumps against the desk, rubbing his face like he can block out the madness. He has zero clue what he’s gonna tell the press. Whatever it is, it better be perfect, or this shitshow’s gonna bury him.
He takes a deep breath... then the floor below explodes again.
He walks to the window. Swarm of reporters at the entrance, and right in the middle, shoving through like a furious hurricane, Jackson Wang. The usual charm? Gone. Just pure rage.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Changbin mutters, sweat prickling his neck.
The golden boy politician dodged bullets just hours ago, and now he’s storming the worst possible place at the worst possible time. Jackson ignores the shouting reporters, security bulldozing anyone in his way.
“Candidate Wang, inside job?”
“Sir, did the police fail you?”
“Are you pointing fingers at the opposition? Who ordered the hit?”
Changbin straightens his tie fast. This is about to get ugly. Door flies open with a bang. Jackson storms in, bodyguards planting themselves outside to block the press.
“Seo, what the fuck happened?”
Changbin doesn’t flinch. He’s faced worse than an angry politician.
“We’re investigating,” he says, calm and firm.
“Investigating?!” Jackson snaps. “My bodyguard is dead! And you’re ‘investigating’? I want answers, and I want them now!”
“I promise you our best people are—”
“No, save that bullshit,” Jackson steps closer, voice dropping to a growl that raises the hair on Changbin’s neck. “I want the best of the best.”
Changbin stares, confused.
“You know what you’re asking for?”
“Do I look like I give a shit?” Jackson jabs a finger at his chest. “Someone tried to kill me today! Get him. TODAY.”
Changbin swats the hand away, annoyed.
“He’s sick, Wang. Retired. You really wanna drag him into this mess?”
“Yes. I need someone crazy enough to catch whoever did this. I want him, Seo. I want...”
“THE ROOKIE.”
Baram-ri, Busan. 10:32 p.m.
This suburb used to be dead quiet; perfect little corner of Busan where nothing ever happened. But tonight was a straight-up horror movie set. Blue and red lights flashing everywhere, yellow police tape blocking everything off. On the sidewalk, a girl lay there, totally still. One arm stretched out toward the street like she was begging for help. Her bag was shredded, stuff scattered all over. Looked like a robbery gone wrong.
But one guy there wasn’t buying that shit for a second.
He was crouched next to the body. Black jacket, no uniform, no badge, but dude owned the whole scene without even trying. He was scanning every damn inch, ignoring the flashing lights and yelling behind him. The uniforms kept sneaking glances, half nervous, half obsessed.
Some rookie cop shuffled up, shaking.
“Detective Lee...?”
“Don’t call me that,” he cut him off without even looking.
“Ah... sorry, hyung,” the kid swallowed hard, scratching the back of his neck. “Victim’s Kang Haeun, lived on the fifth floor,” he jerked his thumb at the apartment building behind them. “Looks like a robbery that got out of hand. Maybe she fought back, dude panicked and—”
“No.”
Rookie froze.
“No...?”
Minho finally looked up, and the kid actually took a step back from the stare.
“Do I seriously have to spell this out for you? He wanted it to look like a robbery.” He pointed at a tiny cigarette butt barely visible on the asphalt. “He stood right here, smoking that menthol crap. Waiting for her.”
Kid squinted, trying to spot it.
“How do you know the cigarette wasn’t hers?”
Minho snorted, shaking his head like the kid was hopeless.
“Look,” he lifted a thin silver chain from around Haeun’s neck; tiny little crucifix. “She was Calvinist. To them the body’s a temple. No smoking, no drinking, no nothing. She wouldn’t touch a cigarette if her life depended on it.”
Rookie gulped.
“So... this was planned?”
“Obviously. Knew her routine, knew when she’d be alone.” Minho glanced at the torn-up bag. “Went through her stuff after he stabbed her. Looking for something. USB, note, whatever. He’s not as dumb as you guys think.”
The cop just blinked, mouth open.
“You really think—”
“I don’t think, I know. And if you weren’t so slow you’d know too.” Minho pointed at the stab wounds. “Three perfect hits. Phone... did you dust it?”
“No prints. Wiped clean.”
Minho rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.
“Yeah, because the killer’s just super nice and cleaned up for you.” He tapped bruises on her shoulder. “He’s tall, at least 5' 11". Stabs are angled downward. Grabbed her here, controlled her like a doll. She was... what, 5' 1"? You telling me that’s hard to see?”
Rookie went dead silent.
“Shit, hyung, that’s...”
“And the phone,” Minho stood up, brushing off his knees. “Not even her prints? He wiped it because he was scrolling through her messages while she bled out. That not obvious to you?”
“Hyung, we... we didn’t catch any of that.” Kid stepped closer, almost pleading. “You gotta take this to the Captain, explain everything, you could—”
“No.” Minho shut him down cold, turning for one last look at Haeun’s body. “I’m done here. If you’re not completely useless, you know where to find me.”
And just like that he walked off, calm as hell, like he hadn’t just ripped everyone’s theory to shreds in five icy sentences. The rest of the uniforms stood there stunned.
“That the Rookie?” one whispered, still processing.
Another nodded, watching Minho’s silhouette disappear into the shadows.
“The goddamn Living Legend.”
Sky Tower 101, Busan. 11:21 p.m.
The building popped up in the distance, his hideout, his fortress away from all the bullshit. He parked the bike, freezing wind slapping his face, but he didn’t even flinch. His head was spinning, but he wasn’t about to deal with that right now. He walked into the complex dead tired, carrying some invisible weight on his shoulders. Elevator crawled up like it had all night. Doors slid open on his floor, and there was a figure leaning against the wall by his door, cigarette dangling between fingers.
Minho clenched his jaw and kept walking.
“You can’t smoke here, dumbass.” He snatched the cig and crushed it in the nearest planter.
“Wow, annyeong to you too. That how you greet your best friend after, what, two whole years?”
Minho snorted, digging his keys out.
“What the hell are you doing here, Hyunjin?”
“You’re a ghost, Mochi,” Hyunjin dragged out that nickname Minho hated from anyone over twelve. “I’ve called you like a thousand times. You ghosting me now?”
Minho shoved the key in the lock, side-eyeing him.
“I was busy.”
“Playing detective again, Mochi? What’s this ‘private consultant’ crap? Solving cases whenever you feel like it?”
“Don’t have a choice, do I? And stop calling me that. We’re not ten anymore.”
“Mochi’s our thing, bro.” Hyunjin slapped his back.
“That was when we were kids,” Minho sighed, rubbing his neck. “Seriously, what do you want?”
Hyunjin’s grin faded for a second.
“Just wanted to see you. And... I know you were poking around that Baram-ri murder.”
Minho narrowed his eyes, scanning Hyunjin’s face like he was looking for the catch. Then he sighed and pushed the door open.
“Get in,” he muttered, nodding inside.
Hyunjin didn’t need to be told twice, strolling in like he owned the place. The apartment was small, dark, smelled faintly of wood and cat food. The second they stepped in, three fluffy missiles, Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, attacked Minho’s legs, purring like crazy. He crouched down, scratching them, voice going all soft in a way nobody else ever heard.
“Missed me, you little brats?” He glanced up at Hyunjin while petting Dori’s head. “You stalking me now, idiot? How’d you know about Baram-ri?”
Hyunjin flopped against the couch, smirking like the smug bastard he was.
“I’m the big bad Homicide Lieutenant now, remember? I hear things, Mochi. Perks of almost being the boss.”
Minho stood up, brushing cat hair off his pants.
“So I’m supposed to bow now?”
“Aww, Mochi, so mean!” Hyunjin fake-pouted.
“Stop calling me that!”
Hyunjin laughed louder, stepped right into Minho’s space like he always did, hands landing on his shoulders.
“You’re gonna forgive me when you hear why I’m here.”
Minho froze, staring him down. Hyunjin, being the dramatic flirt he’d always been, leaned in way too close and whispered:
“Candidate Wang personally asked for you on his case.”
Minho didn’t move for a beat.
“Wang? Let me guess, the shooting?”
Hyunjin nodded like an excited kid.
“Bingo, bro! And guess what, Mochi, this is your ticket back in. Your big chance to show Binnie you’re ready to come home.”
Minho stepped back, breaking the touch.
“I’m not going back.”
“What?”
“Not interested.”
It wasn’t a snap decision. Going back to Homicide meant reliving nightmares that still woke him up drenched in sweat at 3 a.m. He wasn’t ready. Maybe never would be.
“Mochi...” Hyunjin’s voice went soft, no jokes gone. Then he stepped in again, crowding him. “Everybody misses you. I miss you. We could be together again, like old times. No drama.”
Minho gritted his teeth. Damn Hyunjin and those puppy eyes, that closeness, always his fucking kryptonite since they were kids.
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” he muttered, looking away.
Hyunjin grinned, poking his chest.
“What, too sexy to resist?”
Minho rolled his eyes, swatting the hand away half-heartedly. Hyunjin’s smile got wider; he knew he was winning. Minho hated that he was right.
“I’m serious, Mochi. Wang needs you. I need you. Do it. Please.”
Minho stared at him. Every instinct screamed shut the door and lock it forever, but the exhaustion won.
“Fine. I’ll do it. But only because you’re the one asking, asshole.”
Hyunjin’s whole face lit up like Christmas, ruffling Minho’s hair like they were still kids on the playground.
“Knew you wouldn’t say no to me, Mochi!”