Chapter Text
Lee Do thought the hardest part would be the blood.
But it wasn’t. It was the silence.
The kind that settled over hospital corridors like fog, thick and clinging. The kind that made the hum of the vending machine feel deafening, and the shuffle of a nurse’s shoes down the hall feel like thunder.
He sat hunched forward on the hard plastic bench outside the surgery room, hands clasped tightly between his knees, shoulders drawn tight. His back ached. His head throbbed. His soul felt... hanging.
Mrs. Oh had shot a man.
Shot him because he overworked her son until the boy collapsed, and when she went to beg for some mercy, the man laughed.
When she called him afterward, she hadn’t even cried. Just said, "I’m so happy, Mr. Do. I finally got an apology for my son.”
Lee Do had rushed her to the hospital with a heart cracking open with every step.
Now she was on the operating table: stab wound to the side, a second tragedy in an already senseless spiral.
And Lee Do—Detective Lee Do, who hated guns more than anything, who had once sworn he'd rather die than pull a trigger on someone’s child—couldn’t understand what he felt.
Love. Horror. Fury. Grief.
Beside him, Moon Baek was entirely still.
The man had appeared out of nowhere earlier that day, like a shadow stitched to Lee Do’s steps. Now he sat with one leg crossed over the other, big frame folded neatly into a seat too narrow for comfort, hands resting in his lap like they had all the time in the world.
He hadn’t spoken since they arrived.
Lee Do didn’t ask why he came. He didn’t have the energy to push him away.
He dropped his head into his hands, fingers pressing into his eyes until sparks danced behind his lids.
“She’s not like that,” he murmured, voice raw. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, just a heavy thought slipping past his pale lips. “She’s not—she wouldn’t—”
He cut himself off, jaw locking tight.
Moon Baek tilted his head just slightly, watching him. Not cruelly. But not kindly either.
“But she did.”
Lee Do looked up sharply.
“Don’t.”
Moon Baek’s expression didn’t shift.
“I’m not judging her.” A pause. “I’m judging you.”
The air left Lee Do’s lungs like a punch. His throat tightened.
“Why are you even here? It doesn't concern you, so why…?”
Moon Baek shrugged one shoulder.
“Curiosity, mostly. And...”
He looked toward the closed operating room doors.
“I wanted to hear it from you.”
“Hear what?”
Moon Baek uncrossed his legs and finally sat forward, elbows on his knees, mirroring the position Lee Do had held minutes ago—but with far less desperation.
His voice lowered.
“How does it feel,” he asked softly, “when the person you always respected suddenly acts in a way that challenges everything you believe in?”
Lee Do swallowed. Hard. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
He turned his head away, suddenly unable to hold the other's open gaze.
Instead, he stared at the floor for a long time before he spoke again.
“She’s the only person who ever checked if I ate. Who called me ‘son’ like she meant it. Who made me believe this job mattered.”
Moon Baek didn’t interrupt.
Lee Do blinked, eyes burning.
“And now she’s just...I don't know. She killed that man, like she was just...just a...”
Moon Baek exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh.
“She’s not ‘just’ anything, Lee Do. See, that’s your problem. You want people to stay in their lanes. Be easy to categorize. Victim. Suspect. Innocent. Guilty.”
He leaned back again, eyes narrowing.
“But people don’t fit in boxes. Not even you.”
Lee Do’s jaw clenched.
“You know nothing about me.”
Moon Baek tilted his head.
“And still that's more than you do.”
Another silence stretched between them.
Lee Do couldn’t find his breath.
Then Moon Baek asked the real question. Quiet. Almost gentle.
“So—what matters more? The rules you forced into this new life of yours?"
“Or the person who helped you survive it?”
Lee Do looked up, and for the first time, he met Moon Baek’s gaze fully. There was no mockery in it. No anger.
Only curiosity, only excitement. As if Lee Do's answer could change his world.
Honestly, Lee Do couldn't figure out the man sitting right before him.
Moon Baek was like a person standing on the other side of a glass wall—in full view, but overlapping with Lee Do’s own reflection. It was disorienting. He kept catching glimpses of himself in Moon Baek’s words, and that was the worst part. The man wasn’t right, exactly. But he wasn't wrong, either.
That scared him more than he'd admit.
Moon Baek sat there, shoulders relaxed, gaze sharp and calm, like he was reading Lee Do line by line. Not like a man trying to win an argument—but like someone looking at a puzzle he’d already half-solved, waiting to see if the final pieces would drop into place on their own.
And Lee Do hated how close he was getting.
He dragged a hand down his face, fingers trembling.
“What do you want me to say? No, actually, what do you want from me?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this—why are you here?"
Moon Baek didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he glanced at the flickering fluorescent light overhead. The hum of it buzzed into the silence like static on a wire. When he spoke, his voice was light; joyful, even.
“Me? I don't know, you're just a very interesting man, Detective Do. I can't seem to grasp you fully, and it's simply exciting to experience in person.”
Lee Do glared at him then, fury blazing inside his reddened eyes.
“Don’t speak of me like I'm an experiment.”
Moon Baek blinked his eyes, tilting his head innocently.
“Who would do such a thing, Officer Do?”
The mockery in his tone was subtle—but enough.
Lee Do stood abruptly, the legs of his chair screeching against the tile.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and stalked down the corridor, footsteps sharp and fast. His breath was shallow, chest tight with pressure that had no name.
“Stay here.”
He didn’t look back.
But of course Moon Baek didn’t stay.
Like a stray cat too proud to beg but too stubborn to leave, he followed, his footsteps almost lazy behind Lee Do, as if he had nothing more important to do.
Lee Do reached the elevator and jabbed the call button with more force than necessary. The metallic doors slid open with a soft chime.
He stepped in without a word.
Moon Baek followed silently.
They descended one floor in silence, the hum of the elevator thick between them.
Lee Do stared ahead, eyes fixed on nothing, shoulders tense.
And then—his phone rang.
He yanked it out.
“Lee Do.”
“Sunbae!” Jang Jeong U’s voice was tight, breathless. “Sorry to bother you, but... you need to come back. Right away. It’s bad.”
“What happened?”
“Ten more boxes. Same kind. Illegal imports. All unregistered. The evidence room’s full and the chief says we can’t even process it all without your sign-off.”
Lee Do squeezed his eyes shut. Of course. It never ended.
“Where are they now?”
“Station three. We’ve locked them in storage for now, but—there’s talk that someone leaked it to the press. You should hurry.”
“Got it.” Lee Do ended the call just as the elevator dinged at the lobby.
The doors slid open.
A man stepped in.
Thick jacket. Mask hiding half of his face. Tattoo snaking along his wrist.
Lee Do barely glanced at him. His mind was already shifting gears, cycling through evidence tags and chain-of-custody protocols. He was too distracted to notice the way the man froze mid-step, gaze sharpening as it landed on him.
Recognition flared, and the man surged forward suddenly, fist cocked back, aiming straight for Lee Do’s face.
Too fast for a warning. Too fast for Lee Do to dodge.
But he didn’t need to.
A body moved in front of him—fast, effortless.
Moon Baek stepped between them like a curtain closing, arm snapping out with precision. His hand caught the attacker’s wrist mid-air. Not hard. Not even aggressive.
But when the man tried to pull back—he couldn’t.
Moon Baek’s voice was low, almost bored. There was a smile on his lips.
“Try again, and I’ll return the favor. In ten folds."
The attacker hissed, glancing between them, and finally tore his arm free. He jabbed his finger in Lee Do's direction, cursing loudly,
“Fuck, what the fuck, you motherfucker just wait, we'll get you one day! Fucking cop, fucking psycho—”
He stormed out of the elevator as the doors reopened, muttering something else in dialect under his breath.
It must've been Kong Seok Ho's subordinate seeking revenge for his gang members, whom Lee Do sent to the hospital just a few days ago.
But it wasn't a rare occurrence in his field of work, so he brushed it off, not bothering to follow the man.
After that incident, silence returned between them.
Lee Do glanced at Moon Baek, who turned to him slowly, adjusting his sleeves with a faint frown.
“You should be more careful in elevators,” Moon Baek said casually. “You never know what weirdo you can meet.”
Lee Do didn’t answer.
Didn’t thank him.
Just stared, trying to understand the sudden pressure burning in his chest—half anger, half something else.
Moon Baek leaned closer, smiling just a little.
“What? Still want me to stay behind, Officer Do?”
Lee Do clenched his jaw.
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
“Yess,” Moon Baek hummed. “But a useful one.”
The elevator dinged again.
Lee Do strode out first this time, faster than before—but the sound of footsteps followed him like a second shadow.
This time, he didn’t tell Moon Baek to stop.