LONG CHAPTER AHEAD
“Like you don’t smoke yourself—”
“Not as much as you. Do you seriously think smoking over a pack a day is normal?”
“So what? Am I a kid? You think you can control that too?”
“Yeah. You’re a kid.”
…Hah.
She was so dumbfounded she couldn’t even laugh.
When the hell was this whole treating her like a kid thing going to end?
Ever since Canux had brought her into the Maier family, Lucas had been in charge of overseeing her training and, essentially, her entire life.
They were only five years apart, but he acted so damn strict.
Sometimes, Yoon wasn’t sure if she had joined a crime syndicate or a damn ethics class.
But no matter how much she grumbled, Lucas didn’t waver in the slightest.
Half by choice, half by force, he had become both her shooting instructor and her guardian.
He quietly studied Yoon, who sat there brimming with complaints.
It was fascinating.
A girl who once seemed utterly lifeless, indifferent to everything, transformed the moment she held a gun.
Her pale cheeks would flush with energy.
Her usually expressionless lips would twitch ever so slightly into a smirk.
And those eyes—those sharp, glimmering eyes whenever she took aim—
They were almost beautiful.
Lost in that thought, Lucas slowly pushed himself up and walked forward, his footsteps steady and deliberate.
Thump.
A large hand rested atop Yoon’s small head.
Her head was so small that it felt like it could completely disappear beneath his palm.
Lucas slowly ran his fingers through her hair, the strands brushing softly against his skin as he spoke.
“Unless you want your throat crushed so you can’t talk at all, watch yourself.”
His words were menacing, in stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch.
“And you tell me to watch my language?”
Dark eyes glared up at him in defiance.
Yet, despite her rebellious gaze, she didn’t push his hand away.
She was like a half-tamed cat, bristling but unwilling to escape.
Lucas smirked and withdrew his hand.
“Come on. Let’s get some food.”
When someone was in a foul mood, the best thing to do was feed them.
“Beef?”
“Just get up already.”
Her voice had brightened—just slightly.
Lucas felt his lips curve into a subtle grin.
Hearing the rustling behind him as Yoon stood to follow, he let out a quiet laugh.
She really was a simple creature.
* * *
Swish. Thud.
A perfectly sliced piece of meat was placed in front of Yoon.
She glanced briefly at Lucas’s hand before stabbing her fork into the meat without hesitation.
“It won’t be long now.”
A calm, low voice echoed in her ear, making her hand pause mid-motion.
“What won’t?”
“Dr. Walker.”
Clatter.
The fork slipped from her fingers, landing against the plate with a dull thud.
Yoon’s brows furrowed deeply.
Dr. Walker.
The Maier family’s personal physician. The man responsible for treating their wounded members.
His origins were unclear, but his skill alone had secured him that position.
However, Yoon had far too many reasons to not speak of him in praise.
Their relationship was simple to define.
Researcher and test subject.
Dr. Walker had an insatiable curiosity for experiments and exploration.
When Yoon expressed her desire to cure her illness, Lucas had sent her to him without a second thought—because he was the best doctor they had.
And that was the day she encountered an unbreakable, hellish bond.
Just thinking about those polished, light brown eyes gleaming with excitement when he first diagnosed her made her skin crawl.
She still vividly remembered the time she had visited him for an injury—how he had pressed against her wounded area, asking “Does it hurt?” with the most infuriatingly calm expression.
She should have put a bullet in his skull right then and there.
Their first meeting had already been a disaster.
Ever since then, aside from the required check-ups, she avoided his treatment room like the plague.
But self-treatment had its limits—especially when it came to gunshot wounds.
Just because she couldn’t feel pain didn’t mean she wasn’t getting hurt.
And as much of a lunatic as he was, his skills were undeniable.
Which was why, despite everything, she had no choice but to go to him when necessary.
Dr. Walker constantly grated on her nerves, and Yoon never held back the curses that slipped past her lips.
A perverted lunatic who couldn’t resist anything that piqued his curiosity.
That was what Dr. Walker was to her.
Before she even realized it, her body trembled slightly.
“I’m not going.”
The once-juicy meat suddenly felt unbearably tough in her mouth.
“Yoon.”
Lucas looked at her as if coaxing a child, but she merely averted her gaze and stabbed another piece of meat, stuffing it into her mouth without another word.
No matter how much she lacked an appetite, eating meat always brought it back.
Yoon began devouring her food with the intensity of a soldier on the battlefield.
“You need to answer me.”
At that moment, a large hand swiftly snatched away her plate.
Her eyebrow twitched.
“…Give it back.”
“Yoon.”
“Put it down before I bite you.”
Her black eyes gleamed coldly, making her demand crystal clear—drop it now.
She could tolerate many things, but having her things taken away was not one of them.
Lucas, sensing the lethal aura radiating from her, ultimately relented and set the plate back down.
“Go see the doctor. Your illness isn’t incurable—it can be treated.”
“What’s the point? He’s just going to drain more of my blood. That bastard’s a quack. With the amount of blood he’s taken from me, he could’ve built an entire person out of a corpse by now.”
“He might have found another treatment option.”
“It’s been five years. There’s no test I haven’t taken, no treatment I haven’t tried. At this point, it might as well be incurable.”
Yoon, exasperated, unfastened the top button of her shirt.
She didn’t understand why she was even having this pointless argument.
The helplessness of clinging to something doomed, the despair of knowing it was futile—she had endured it for the past eight years.
At first, she hadn’t realized the severity of it.
She had simply thought, At least I don’t feel pain anymore.
She had been relieved—happy, even—because the memories of being beaten had been too painful, and she had never wanted to feel that again.
Then, one day, after completing a mission, she collapsed from sudden dizziness.
Only then did she realize there was a bullet hole in her waist.
The moment had caught her off guard, but she hadn’t been shocked.
Ah. I might die today.
That was all she thought.
Death? Injuries?
None of it frightened her.
Death had long been something she yearned for.
The helplessness and exhaustion she felt didn’t stem from pain or injury.
It was sensation.
It was emotion.
That was the real problem.
She hated that she couldn’t feel the warmth of a large hand ruffling her hair.
She grieved the fact that she couldn’t experience countless emotions tied to physical sensation.
Even if someone brushed against her hand, even if fingers traced her face—she felt nothing.
She ached for human warmth.
And as her physical senses dulled, so too did her emotions.
Sometimes, she felt disconnected from herself, as if she were something inhuman.
Only when she ran a blade across her skin and watched the blood trickle out did she feel alive.
Only then could she confirm, with her own eyes, that she was still a person whose blood could spill.
Perhaps that was why—
Every time Lucas urged her to get treatment, she would sometimes look at him with a strange gaze.
Regaining her physical senses would never benefit the organization.
Pain meant hesitation, caution.
And this cursed body of hers benefited Maier the most.
A first-class sniper who couldn’t feel pain—who wouldn’t want such an asset?
At the very least, she’d never fail a mission because her hands trembled from pain.
Unlike the others, though, Lucas had long since stopped seeing her condition as an advantage.
She had noticed how his expression darkened every time she returned with fresh wounds.
Maybe that was why—
Whenever her white dress shirt was stained red, she would always seek him out first.
There was something oddly satisfying about watching his usually composed face distort.
She wasn’t some masochist who enjoyed getting injured—
But there was something strangely pleasing about the way his expression twisted because of her.
Like a void inside her was being filled, just a little.
It was a small, secret amusement of hers.
It was also why she insisted on wearing white dress shirts when going on missions.
The way his gaze darkened, the way his face contorted—it was satisfying.
Was this always my preference?
As Yoon seriously pondered the nature of her own tastes, she noticed the way Lucas was watching her.
She continued speaking.
“The fact that I don’t feel pain might be a curse for me, but for Maier, it’s nothing but a blessing. You’ve seen it yourself for years. It may be a disaster for me, but for the organization, it’s a gift.”
“At least you recognize that it’s a disaster.”
His already deep voice sank even lower.
“And we all recognize that it’s a blessing.”
A faint, bitter smile tugged at Yoon’s lips.
“…….”
Lucas looked like he wanted to say something. His lips parted slightly, but Yoon chose not to listen.
There was no point.
They would only end up repeating the same argument over and over again.
She grabbed her coat, and Lucas moved to stand, intending to accompany her.
“Stay put. I’m going alone.”
Her firm tone froze him in place, halfway through standing.
She knew that look in his eyes—complicated, troubled—but she avoided his gaze.
Understanding that it wasn’t his fault didn’t change the fact that she was in a foul mood.
Guess my personality really is screwed up.
She scoffed at herself.
She knew she had a terrible temperament.
She also knew she should be grateful that he saw her as a person rather than a mere tool.
And yet, she was irritated.
She couldn’t even tell where this emotion was coming from.
Maybe it was envy—envy for someone like him, who lacked nothing.
One thing was certain: she was being unnecessarily sensitive right now.
Like a petulant child.
She felt pathetic for throwing a tantrum and lashing out over something so trivial.
A deep sigh escaped her lips.
“…It’s just whining. Ignore it.”
That was the end of the meal.
She grabbed her coat carelessly and rose from her seat.
“I’m leaving.”
“Wait. I’ll drive you.”
Lucas grabbed her wrist.
“I’m walking.”
“You hate walking.”
“I suddenly like it now.”
“…Yoon.”
“I’m leaving.”
Let’s stop here.
She had already been awful enough today.
If she stayed any longer, she might end up saying something she couldn’t take back.
She didn’t want to be any worse than she already had.
A quiet voice called after her, but she didn’t hesitate as she walked past him.
She was exhausted.
* * *
Why now, of all times?
Yoon cursed internally.
She hadn’t even needed to be out on patrol—she had chosen to do this.
Yeah, this was on her.
Her foul mood had lingered for days, refusing to lift no matter what she did.
Wandering around to clear her head had been her own decision, but she had zero intention of getting caught up in something this annoying.
She had been feeling off for days, and now, of course, she found herself in this situation.
“No… No… Please…! Please, spare me—Kyaaaa!!”
A sharp scream pierced the night, making Yoon’s brow furrow.
She didn’t even need to see the scene to know exactly what was happening.
With a quiet sigh, she ran a hand roughly through her hair and made her way toward the alley.
Of course.
These kinds of predictions never seem to be wrong.
Her eyes turned ice-cold at the all-too-familiar sight.
Click.
She aimed her gun at the man’s lower half and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Bang!
The deafening gunshot rang through the quiet city.
“Kgh…!! Aaaaghhh!!”
The man, who had been using his strength to pin the woman down, let out an ear-piercing shriek as he collapsed to the ground.
Yoon lifted her phone to call in the cleanup, her expression blank.
“5th Street, K-1 alley. Come pick up the trash.”
Ignoring the wailing man, she took a step closer, her gun resting loosely in her grip.
“Too loud.”
Bored, she crouched down and tapped the man’s head lightly with the barrel of her gun.
Then, as if she had lost all interest, she slammed the gun down onto his skull.
Thud.
“Guh…!”
His body convulsed before going limp.
Yoon barely spared him another glance before turning to the trembling woman nearby.
Even in the darkness, she could tell the woman’s clothes had been ripped to shreds.
Tch. More hassle.
With a quiet whoosh, a large jacket landed over the woman’s shaking form.
* * *
As usual, Lucas was handling business when he felt the strain around his eyes. With a sigh, he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
His gaze shifted to Yoon, who was lying on the sofa, looking far too calm given the chaos she had caused just days ago.
“Yoon.”
“What?”
“Do you remember that today’s the day you see the doctor?”
“Yeah.”
…She remembered?
And she was fine with it?
Lucas paused, thrown off by the unexpected response.
“…Did you suddenly start liking the doctor or something?”
“What kind of bullshit is that? I still hate that bastard more than death itself.”
“Then?”
“I met someone yesterday who’s exactly my type.”
Her type?
His hand, which had been holding a pen, stilled for a moment.
His reddish-brown eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he stared at her.
“You actually have a type?”
“Of course I do.”
She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Without realizing it, Lucas loosened the top button of his shirt.
It suddenly felt a little easier to breathe.
“Alright, then. So, what’s this amazing type of yours?”
“A beauty.”
The answer came out instantly—without a second of hesitation.
Lucas let out a short laugh, almost in disbelief.
“That’s the same as saying you don’t have a type.”
“What are you talking about? Liking beautiful people is a very clear preference.”
“By that logic, you should like the doctor too. That guy’s got decent looks, after all.”
If what she said was true, then Dr. Walker should also fall under her type.
Lucas could admit, albeit grudgingly, that the man was objectively handsome.
“…Lucas, so this is the kind of guy you are?”
Yoon’s expression turned theatrically exaggerated as she sat up on the sofa and sauntered toward him.
“I had no idea you harbored such deep feelings all this time.”
With a playful grin, she leaned in slightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
“When I see the doctor today, I’ll be sure to deliver your heartfelt confession.”
She looked far too entertained—clearly enjoying the opportunity to mess with him.
“Cut the nonsense. So, was this person you met yesterday really your type?”
“Oh? Wait, was asking about my type just bait? Were you actually fishing for the doctor’s type instead? Damn… You should’ve just said so. We’ve known each other long enough—I’ll gladly ask for you.”
With an exaggerated smirk, Yoon clasped her hands together mockingly.
“‘Doctor, what do you think about Lucas as a lover?’—I’ll phrase it just like that.”
Before Lucas could react, Yoon had already perched herself on the edge of his desk, completely at ease.
“You—”
His voice came out in a low growl, but Yoon only chuckled quietly.
Then, without warning, her long, pale fingers reached out and gently smoothed the crease between his furrowed brows.
The unexpected touch made his Adam’s apple bob involuntarily.
“Don’t look so serious. You’re making it seem like I hit a nerve.”
Satisfied, she withdrew her hand with a small, amused smile.
“I’m heading out.”
Without a hint of hesitation, she turned and left.
Lucas, now alone, stared at his own hand with a conflicted expression.
For a split second, he had almost reached out.
But for what?
To hold her hand?
Or something else entirely?
The words he couldn’t bring himself to say lingered in his mouth.
“…So, what exactly is your type?”
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