The clink of silverware was the loudest sound in the Jin family dining room.
Even with the soft piano music playing from hidden speakers and the expensive chandelier casting a warm golden light, there was no comfort at the table.
Assemblyman Jin sat at the head, posture stiff, his chopsticks resting perfectly in his hand like even eating had to be done with political precision. Beside him sat his wife—well, technically Isoo's stepmother—wearing a smile too polite to be real. Across from her, her son, Jin Haneul, scrolled casually through his phone, ignoring every rule of etiquette.
And at the far end of the table sat Jin Isoo, slouched in his seat, spinning his chopsticks between his fingers like he wanted to launch them across the room.
"Do you plan on sitting like that the entire evening?" Assemblyman Jin's voice cut through the silence.
Isoo didn't even look up. "This is me sitting up straight, Dad. Any straighter and I'll need spinal surgery."
Haneul snickered quietly, but his mother shot him a sharp look, silencing him instantly.
Assemblyman Jin's jaw tightened. "You think this is a joke? After everything you've caused in the last month?"
Isoo finally raised his eyes, smirking. "Ah, here we go. The 'Isoo is an embarrassment' lecture. My favorite course of the evening." He popped a piece of beef into his mouth like he was mocking a cooking show. "Continue, please."
His father's chopsticks dropped onto the table. "You think I enjoy cleaning up after you? Paying lawyers, negotiating with the press, pulling strings just to keep your name out of the headlines?"
Isoo set down his utensils and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe you should've let me rot in that cell then. Would've saved you the trouble."
"You—" Assemblyman Jin's voice rose before he caught himself. He straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and lowered his tone. "Isoo. You are not a child anymore. One day people will look at you and see not just my son but a man who represents this family. Yet you act like—"
"Like I don't care?" Isoo's laugh was sharp. "Good. Because I don't."
The table froze. Even Haneul stopped scrolling.
Isoo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table like he owned it. "Let's not pretend, Dad. You didn't want me to be your legacy. You wanted me to be quiet, obedient, invisible—like a prop in your perfect family photo." He looked at Haneul and smirked. "Guess you already got that from him."
Haneul bristled. "Hyung, you don't have to—"
"Shut up, Haneul," Isoo snapped, and for once the younger boy obeyed.
Assemblyman Jin's fists clenched under the table. His voice, when it came, was low, dangerous. "Watch your mouth."
Isoo pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the marble floor. "Or what? You'll hire another babysitter? Oh wait—you already did." He pointed toward the hallway, where Detective Nah Ah Jeong was standing, arms crossed, silently observing the disaster she'd walked into.
The Assemblyman glanced at her, then back at Isoo. "You think this is funny? I gave you protection because you clearly can't handle your own life. You should be grateful someone even—"
"Grateful?" Isoo barked out a laugh that had no humor in it. "For what? For being treated like a criminal? For being forced to have someone follow me around because you don't trust your own son to breathe without embarrassing you?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Isoo stood, grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, and stormed toward the balcony.
The glass door slammed behind him.
---
BALCONY
Seoul's night skyline stretched out like a glittering ocean. Isoo gripped the railing, knuckles white, his reflection faint against the glass. His chest heaved with every angry breath.
He hated this house. Hated the way it smelled like money and politics. Hated the way every conversation felt like a press conference.
Most of all, he hated the way his father looked at him—not like a son, but like a liability.
The door slid open behind him.
"Hey," Ah Jeong said softly.
Isoo didn't turn. "Here to drag me back inside, Detective?"
"Nope. Just… making sure you don't jump."
He snorted, still facing the city. "Relax. If I wanted to, I'd at least do it somewhere with a better view. Namsan Tower, maybe."
She stepped closer, leaning against the railing a few feet away. "That's dark."
"That's life." His voice cracked slightly, and he hated himself for it.
They stood in silence for a moment, the hum of traffic below filling the gap.
"You don't like being here," she finally said.
"Wow, detective work at its finest." Isoo finally turned his head, eyes red but defiant. "I hate this house. Always have. Everything here is fake. The food, the smiles, even the goddamn flowers are fake."
He ran a hand through his hair, laughing bitterly. "You know what it's like when your own dad talks to you like you're some stranger who owes him rent?"
Ah Jeong shifted uncomfortably. "I wouldn't know. Didn't have a dad to owe rent to."
That made him pause. He looked at her, actually looked.
"Sorry," she muttered. "Didn't mean to—"
"No, it's fine." Isoo turned back to the view. "Guess that makes two of us then. Family's overrated anyway."
"You don't mean that."
He scoffed. "Don't I?"
Silence again. Only this time, it wasn't heavy. It was… awkward. Like neither of them knew how to deal with this sudden honesty.
"You're not what I expected," Ah Jeong said finally.
Isoo raised a brow. "What'd you expect? Spoiled brat, professional troublemaker, walking PR disaster?"
She shrugged. "Pretty much."
"And?"
She met his eyes, her tone blunt. "Still kinda true. But… maybe not entirely."
Isoo laughed, a soft, tired sound. "Careful, Detective. That almost sounded like empathy."
"Don't push it." She glanced back toward the dining room, where the muffled voices of his father and stepmother still argued. "You planning to go back in there?"
"Hell no." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "If I do, I'll say something I can't take back."
Ah Jeong studied him for a long moment, then jerked her head toward the front door. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
---
CAR RIDE – NIGHT
The car hummed quietly as they drove through Seoul's streets, the city lights streaking past.
Isoo stared out the window, one hand absently tapping against his knee.
"You don't have to babysit me off the clock, you know," he said finally.
Ah Jeong, eyes on the road, smirked faintly. "Who said I'm off the clock?"
He glanced at her, then back out the window. "You ever regret taking this job?"
"Every day since I met you."
That actually made him laugh—a real one this time. "Fair."
They fell into silence again, but it was different from before. Not awkward. Just… quiet.
At a red light, Isoo turned to her, his voice lower than before. "Thanks. For earlier."
Ah Jeong blinked, caught off guard. "For what?"
"For… not making it worse." He looked out the window again quickly, like he regretted saying it.
Ah Jeong didn't reply immediately. She just drove, eyes on the road, lips pressed into a thin line.
When she finally spoke, it was quiet. "Don't thank me yet. I'm still deciding if you're worth the trouble."
Isoo smiled faintly, leaning back against the seat. "Fair enough, Detective. Fair enough."
The rest of the ride was silent, but this time, neither of them seemed to mind.