Dohyun warily pushed the door, feet tense, every muscle ready to bolt. The door creaked open just enough, revealing a figure seated on his couch, silently staring out the window. Through the glass, the full view of the flower shop and Sof's house was visible—every detail, every movement caught in plain sight. The vantage point was perfect for an investigation, each subtle shift outside recorded in the man's gaze.
A low chuckle broke the silence. The man turned, slowly rising from the couch, deliberately walking toward the board of photos and red strings as if claiming the space, marking it as his own.
"You did your investigation, I see…" His voice was calm, measured, but each word cut like steel. He paused, letting the weight of his presence settle in the room. "But you're taking an awful lot of time."
His gaze snapped sharp, cold, unamused. Without another word, he returned to the couch, flopped back, and tapped his fingers against the armrest—an impatient rhythm that made Dohyun's skin crawl.
"Sir Galen… To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Dohyun asked, keeping his voice curt but tinged with wariness.
Galen Sylvan, eldest brother of Wohyoon and the one who had given him this mission, regarded him with a face unreadable, a mix of authority and suppressed impatience.
"Mister Dohyun, hurry this investigation. You're prying too much into the wrong life," Galen's voice rose, carrying restrained anger, sharp as a whip. "I asked you to investigate the criminal who took our Wohyoon!"
Dohyun flinched, guilt tightening around his chest. He knew he had been sidetracked—obsessing over Sof instead of the father figure who had raised Wohyoon and vanished from their lives.
"You're right. I will hurry the investigation, Sir Galen. I'll report to you in a week," he replied, voice steady but laced with the weight of urgency.
Galen's expression hardened, and he gave a heavy, sharp hand on Dohyun's shoulder—impatience clear in the gesture, a display of dominance rather than comfort. Muttering incoherently under his breath, he turned and left the apartment. The click of the door behind him left a void that felt heavier than the man's physical presence.
"Fuck…" Dohyun muttered to himself, rubbing his temples. He should've known from the voice—it was Galen. He hadn't even gotten a lead on Wohyoon's father yet, and now time pressed harder than ever.
He returned to the board, eyes scanning for any strings leading to the man he was meant to find. Nothing. Every lead was dead, a map of obsession without guidance.
Dohyun exhaled sharply, the frustration bubbling into a tight knot in his chest. Headache already threatening, he muttered again, softer this time, "Damn it…"
The city outside moved obliviously, the flower shop's faint buzz of life, the quiet chatter of pedestrians, completely unaware of the storm brewing in the small apartment. Dohyun leaned against the wall, glancing at the photos once more, letting the weight of both his failure and the urgency of the mission press down.