"It was April 2nd, at 4:00 in the evening."
The city lights of Chicago bled into the sharp and cold, like scattered glass on black velvet.
Somewhere in the quieter edge of downtown, in a coffee shop's corner booth, a man sat with his phone pressed to his ear.
His name was Ryu Seong-jin known in certain circles for getting answers where no one else could.
His voice was curt when he spoke, but the man on the other end didn't seem to mind.
"i am speaking from crime investigation department in some case we want your help I am sending you location be at there at 7:00
There was silence for a moment, then Seong-jin's low reply:
"I'll be there in 7:00"
The hotel's hallway was hushed, lined with deep blue carpeting that swallowed his footsteps.
When he reached the brass numbers 607, his knuckles rapped once against the door.
It opened without hesitation.
A man stood there Liang.
But the first thing Seong jin noticed wasn't the welcome; it was the atmosphere inside.
A single lamp glowed in the corner, the curtains drawn tight.
In the shadows, a second man sat at a table
broad-shouldered, posture razor-straight, with eyes so black they didn't just look at you they read you.
The air between them was cold enough to frost glass.
Seong-jin stepped inside, his gaze locked on the stranger.
"I was told there'd be only one of you."
He didn't bother standing.
"What do you want from me?" His voice was low, the kind that carried weight without raising volume.
Jasper closed the door behind him, his steps unhurried as he approached the small round table between them.
"Someone hired you for security," he said, voice measured. "I want you to work for me instead… and give me information."
A faint crease appeared between the man's brows. "Why would I do that?"
Jasper's smile was thin, almost polite. He reached into his coat, pulled out a slim file, and set it on the table. The cover was plain, but the man's gaze lingered on it for a moment longer than he intended.
Jasper leaned forward, voice dropping.
"You did kill someone " he said quietly almost conversationally but the words landed like cold iron.
The man's eyes darkened. His expression shifted, but only slightly enough for Jasper to know he'd struck the right nerve.
"You're not doing the right thing," the man murmured.
"I'll pay you," Jasper replied, straightening. "In return, I just want your identity and your name. Nothing more."
________________________
"It was April 3rd, at 5:00 in the morning."
The night was bleeding into the first pale strokes of morning. The garden still held the hush of darkness, yet a soft light began to breathe over the dewdrops.
Yuna sat on the old stone bench beneath the willow tree, her posture still, almost statue-like. The cold air curled around her, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fading night-blooming flowers.
Her light-brown hair, loosened from its braid, kept lifting with the gentle breeze — strands falling across her face, only for her slender fingers to tuck them behind her ear again and again.
Her gaze wandered into the far distance, unfocused, as if the horizon itself whispered a memory back to her.
In that fragile half-light, her mind reached for an image
Her parents' laughter in the warm summer courtyard. The clink of porcelain teacups. Her father's hand ruffling her hair as her mother scolded him for making it messy.
The sunlight in that memory was golden, soft… safe.
Her lips curved in the faintest smile, but it trembled at the edges. The present morning was nothing like that one yet for a moment, it felt close enough to touch.
She exhaled softly, rose from the bench, and returned inside.
Steam curled from the bath as Yuna stepped out, droplets sliding down her shoulders. She wrapped herself in a pale robe, the scent of herbal soap clinging faintly to her skin.
By the time she descended the stairs, the kitchen was alive with the warm aroma of congee and jasmine tea. Her aunt hair neatly pinned, sleeves rolled was already plating breakfast.
Sit. Eat before it cools. (pausing as she sets a bun on Yuna's plate) By the way… my friend has found a guard. He'll be arriving today.
Yuna looked at her and just say hmmm
After breakfast, Yuna sat curled on the sofa, knees drawn slightly together, her gaze wandering over the drifting dust motes in the air. The mansion was still, save for the faint rustle of bamboo leaves outside.
Then. "Tap… tap… tap…"
Footsteps. Slow, measured, coming from the corridor.
She tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. " Nari…?"
But when she looked up, it wasn't Nari.
A man stood there tall, broad-shouldered, the morning light catching in his black hair. Strands fell loosely over his forehead, casting shadows across eyes that seemed to weigh the room in silence.
Yuna parted her lips to speak, but before she could
Her aunt stepped inside, her voice warm but carrying authority.
"This is your new security guard Ryu Seong-jin."
Ryu bowed slightly in greeting
"This is my file, if you wish to check."
Yuna reached for file She flipped through the pages — documents, old photographs, certifications. Her eyes paused on a particular page.
"Before this… you were a photographer?" she asked, brows slightly raised. "Why did you leave your job?"
Ryu's voice was steady, almost detached.
"It didn't pay enough. I need to clear my debt."
"And how much is this debt of yours?" Yuna asked, her gaze unflinching.
He held her eyes for a brief moment before answering.
"Enough that two months of this work will wipe it clean."
Then Aunty speak ryu seong you can sit
The air was cool, touched with the faint scent of wet earth. The security guard, Ryu Seong-jin, set his bag down on the wooden bench and sat without a sound. His gaze moved slowly, taking in the surroundings without disturbing a single leaf. All around, clay pots and planters overflowed with flowers — orchids, peonies, jasmine — carefully arranged as though each had a place in a silent story.
Then his eyes settled on the girl seated a few steps away.
Yuna was leaning back in her chair, sunlight brushing against her light brown hair, catching strands of gold. She wore a soft cream blouse tucked into a flowing skirt, the fabric moving like water with the breeze. Her beauty had a quiet elegance — refined yet unforced — the kind that made people lower their voices without realising why.
A voice broke the stillness.
"These pots, all these plants… Yuna placed them here herself," Aunt Lian said as she stepped into the garden, her tone tinged with pride. "She loves them dearly."
Ryu glanced at the flowers again, then at Yuna, as if measuring the way her presence seemed to belong to the garden itself.