LONG CHAPTER AHEAD
She was exhausted.
Her body felt heavy, her bones aching with fatigue.
All she wanted was to lie down and rest.
* * *
Lucas stared at the ended call for a moment, lost in thought.
Something about her voice—tired, worn down—bothered him.
After a brief pause, he sighed and stood up, grabbing his coat.
Just as he was about to leave the office, a knock sounded at the door.
A man stepped inside.
“Huh? Where are you headed?”
It was Turner, his secretary, back from his months-long business trip.
He was holding an armful of documents, eyes fixed curiously on his boss.
“…You’re back.”
Lucas’s tone was less than thrilled.
“Yes! Just got in. But seriously, where are you going?”
The sharp curiosity in Turner’s gaze was already starting to get on Lucas’s nerves.
He frowned.
“The report—tomorrow.”
“What? But you were the one who told me to come back and report immediately—”
Before Turner could even finish his sentence, Lucas was already out the door.
And, for once, he was moving fast.
Turner narrowed his eyes, watching his boss’s uncharacteristically hurried exit with growing suspicion.
Then, a realization smashed into him like a freight train.
“Wait… did Yoon cause trouble again?!”
* * *
When Lucas arrived home, he headed straight for his bedroom.
Scattered across the floor were a crisp white shirt and a pair of pants—evidence that someone had rummaged through his wardrobe to change clothes.
With a quiet sigh, he bent down and picked them up, neatly folding them before settling onto the edge of the bed.
She was completely still.
As if she had passed out the moment she hit the mattress.
Unconsciously, Lucas leaned in, his gaze drawn to her face.
The sound of her steady, even breathing filled the space between them, easing a tension he hadn’t even realized was there.
A large hand reached out—lightly tapping the bridge of her nose.
Nothing.
Not even the slightest reaction.
He chuckled softly.
That strange, nagging sense of unease he had been feeling all night finally began to fade.
Without thinking, Lucas studied her sleeping face with an expression that was, even to himself, uncharacteristically gentle.
Her closed eyelashes. Her straight nose. Her slightly parted, rosy lips.
He memorized it all.
Yoon rarely looked like this.
In the waking hours, she always had a peculiar lack of vitality—those indifferent eyes, that half-hearted smirk, the idle way she tossed out her words in a detached, almost lazy manner.
Even her habit of teasing others felt more like an act to mask an underlying boredom rather than genuine amusement.
She rarely showed interest in anything at all.
But here she was now, curled on her side, not even using a pillow, instead resting her head on her own arm.
A faint sting pricked at his chest.
Lucas couldn’t quite define what it was he felt toward her.
Something vague. Something undefined.
But whatever it was, he had no intention of changing anything.
Not yet.
A bitter smile crossed his lips as his gaze drifted over her, searching.
Where had she gotten hurt this time?
Because of course she had.
She never even realized it herself.
She didn’t bother checking for injuries, let alone treating them.
At some point, it had become his habit to look for them himself.
His eyes traced down her arm, stopping at her oversized sleeve, which had slipped past her wrist, completely covering her hand.
Gently, he reached out and folded the sleeve back.
Revealing her small hand.
Yoon hated her hands.
Yoon often ran her hands over his, envying their long, sturdy shape.
She never liked her own body much to begin with.
Lucas frowned slightly at the fresh scratches across the back of her hand.
“She never comes back unscathed.”
At this point, it almost felt intentional—as if she went out of her way to get hurt.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips.
He pulled open a drawer, retrieved the first-aid kit, and got to work.
Carefully disinfecting the wounds, applying ointment, pressing gently, as if handling something fragile.
Even though she stirred slightly, his hands remained delicate, unusually careful—not wanting to wake her.
What he didn’t notice was a pair of dark eyes watching him.
By the time he smoothed the last bandage into place, he finally let go, satisfied with his work.
“…Are you done?”
A drowsy voice, low and thick with sleep, pulled him back to reality.
He stiffened—just a little.
Still half-asleep, her long lashes fluttered slightly, slow and lazy, making her look almost… innocent.
Like a child.
“…You look proud. Kinda cute.”
“Shut up.”
“Your clothes are comfortable.”
A random statement, but Lucas didn’t blink at the sudden shift in topic.
“Keep them.”
Yoon chuckled softly.
“I’m sleeping more. You coming up too?”
Her voice, sluggish and teasing, had the same casual mischief as always.
Lucas pushed aside whatever odd feeling had crept up on him.
“Take a shower first.”
He replied flatly, standing up and heading toward the bathroom.
Before he could take more than a step, her fingers curled around his wrist.
He stopped.
His gaze dropped to her hand, still loosely wrapped around his wrist, before flicking back to her with a silent question.
Why?
Yoon frowned slightly, as if realizing something wasn’t right.
“I was joking.”
Her voice held uncertainty, a rare hesitation.
Lucas, however, didn’t waver.
“I wasn’t.”
“What, do you not like it?”
Lucas’s calm, almost indifferent response left Yoon momentarily stunned.
Her fingers loosened, slipping away from his wrist.
For the briefest moment, something unreadable flickered across her face—something she couldn’t quite put into words herself.
Lucas noticed.
And smirked.
With a quick flick of his finger, he flicked her forehead.
It didn’t hurt, but it annoyed her.
Frowning, Yoon rubbed at the spot.
“Go back to sleep.”
“What about you?”
“Mind your own business and sleep.”
Lucas casually loosened his tie, pulled on a comfortable T-shirt, and left the room.
Every motion, fluid and natural, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Yoon stared after him, watching his retreating back until he disappeared.
Then—
She chuckled.
“So he does know how to joke.”
But with that face, it almost felt real.
Muttering to herself, Yoon let her eyes drift closed again.
She still needed more sleep.
* * *
“So, all but one are dead?”
The cold, heavy voice sent a shudder through the subordinate standing before him.
“…Y-yes. The other two died on the spot.”
“Ha.”
A scoff, laced with disbelief.
Three men sent out.
One returned alive.
Two—dead, instantly.
“So, in the end, you came back empty-handed?”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, huh…?”
The chair he had been reclining in let out a slow, creaking protest as he leaned forward.
With fluid grace, the man rose from his seat and reached for the cane propped beside the table.
The click of approaching footsteps made the subordinate’s shoulders stiffen.
Then—
Thud.
The blunt end of the cane pressed against the subordinate’s chest.
His body flinched violently.
His eyes darted to the cane, trembling as they followed the motion of the hand that held it.
“You see, I hate the word ‘sorry.’”
Because it’s nothing but an excuse.
The words, low and ice-cold, slithered into his ear like a whisper.
A shiver ran down his spine.
The secretary, having seen this scene countless times before, wordlessly turned and locked the door behind him.
Then—
Thwack.
The beating began.
The room was soon filled with the sickening sound of flesh meeting wood, stifled screams, and the rhythmic impact of blows.
The secretary, still facing away, felt a bead of cold sweat roll down his temple.
As the sounds of violence faded, the secretary swallowed hard, forcing down his unease.
Taking a deep breath, he finally turned around—only to be met with the gruesome aftermath.
The scene was horrific.
He clenched his jaw, swallowing down the urge to groan.
“Throw him out.”
The order came flatly, devoid of emotion.
Blood from the cane dripped onto the rug, staining the fabric.
“Yes, sir.”
Men in black suits entered the room without a word, swiftly lifting the motionless body like a discarded sack of meat before carrying it away.
As the man extended his cane, the secretary hurried forward, accepting it with careful hands.
Meanwhile, Lowe Howard turned away, stepping toward the window.
There, crouched near his feet, was Rye, his beloved hunting dog.
The Doberman nuzzled against his leg, a deep, contented growl rumbling from its chest.
A dry smile curled Lowe’s lips as he gently stroked the dog’s head.
The blood-red sunset spilled through the window, casting a crimson glow along the sharp angles of his figure.
The contrast between his eerie stillness and the brutal violence moments ago was enough to make the scene feel almost surreal.
“Looks like I need to conduct a proper investigation. Don’t you think, Rye?”
“Woof—!”
The sharp bark made Lowe chuckle as he ran his fingers through the dog’s fur, scratching at its nape.
“I must have underestimated him.”
A mistake.
One he intended to correct.
“It’s time to prepare properly.”
His dark eyes glinted, like a hunter who had just found his next prey.
“Find out everything about him. You know what kind of information I want, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll gather intel as quickly as possible.”
The secretary placed the now clean cane back onto the table before making a hasty exit.
Just as he shut the door behind him, his gaze flicked back one last time—
To the sight of one hunting dog and one mad dog, basking in each other’s company.
He shuddered.
And left.
* * *
Of course, I was feeling exhausted.
This day was to blame.
Yoon pinched the bridge of her nose, staring at the familiar sight before her.
The man standing there hadn’t aged a bit. Still as sharp as ever.
Did he drink elixirs or something?
A cigar perched between his lips, he leaned casually against the window, grinning as he motioned her over.
Canux Maier.
The one responsible for dragging her into the underworld.
The worst kind of debt collector.
“Heard everything, you brat! Stirred up quite the mess, didn’t you?”
Judging by his booming laughter, he must have gotten wind of her run-ins with the Howard family.
Before she could respond, a heavy slap landed on her back.
Yoon staggered forward, teeth rattling.
The man laughed so loud her ears might explode.
And his damn hands—so thick, each hit shook her entire body.
Wouldn’t be surprising if she ended up bruised from this.
Grumbling, she rolled her aching shoulders, while Canux watched, still chuckling.
Then, he casually tossed a photo onto the table.
Frowning, Yoon picked it up.
“What’s this?”
“Your next job.”
“This?”
Her brows knitted as she studied the image.
At first glance, it was nothing special.
Nothing that required her to handle it.
“Just assign it to someone else. Why make my life miserable over some delivery?”
“You idiot! There’s a reason you’re the one for the job!”
“Yeah? What reason?”
“Howard is after it!”
“And?”
“And there ain’t a damn thing I’ll let that bastard take from me! Over my dead body!”
So that was it.
Pure, unfiltered pride.
Typical of the old man, who’d rather drop dead than lose.
“You don’t even need me for this. Look at me—”
Yoon gestured at herself.
“I’m premium talent. I don’t do grunt work.”
She vehemently shook her head.
She thought he was assigning something interesting—only to be thoroughly disappointed.
Canux merely smirked.
“Heavier job than you think. Do you even know how much that thing is worth?”
“Not my money. Why should I care?”
Whatever ridiculous amount of money was involved, it wasn’t hers—so she couldn’t care less.
Seeing that Yoon wasn’t even remotely interested, Canux cleared his throat loudly and spoke.
“They’re looking for you.”
“Who? Howard?”
“Yeah. Especially his son.”
His tone turned stern, as if to drill the warning into her skull.
“Even if they offer you the world, you must never go to them. Do you understand?”
Yoon raised a brow, looking incredulous.
“Do I look like an idiot? You think I’d switch sides just because they treat me well? I’ve already killed a few of their men—they’re not going to take me in alive.”
“You still don’t get it.”
Canux clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“That bastard doesn’t care about things like that.”
Unlike his father, Lowe Howard wasn’t just ruthless—he was exceptional.
A man who treated his subordinates like pawns on a chessboard.
A man whose emotions were as cold as his logic was sharp.
A man not to be underestimated.
“Don’t take him lightly. That guy’s an unhinged lunatic, plain and simple.”
“Is there even anything to take lightly? Lucas does all the thinking. I don’t bother with that. I’m just the muscle.”
“And you’re proud of that, huh?!”
Canux’s roar was loud enough to shake the walls, making Yoon wince.
This was turning into one of his endless lectures, and she had no intention of sticking around for it.
So, casually, she started edging toward the door.
She had nearly made her escape when something firm pressed against her back.
Before she could process what it was, a pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders.
She glanced down, taking in the large hands, before tilting her head back.
Lucas.
Expression unreadable, he nodded once to his father before turning on his heel, taking Yoon with him.
“LUCAS, YOU DAMN BRAT! YOU SEE YOUR FATHER FOR THE FIRST TIME IN AGES AND DON’T EVEN SAY A WORD?!”
Canux’s booming voice followed them, but Lucas didn’t even blink.
He just kept walking.
Yoon snickered.
“You sure you don’t wanna go back? You’re gonna bleed from your ears later when he gets his hands on you.”
“I’ll see him when I go to the main house. What’s in your hand?”
Yoon blinked.
Then—
“Ah, shit.”
The damn photo.
She had absentmindedly taken it with her.
Now it felt like she’d accidentally accepted the job.
Her brows furrowed in frustration as she groaned inwardly.
She could already hear Canux’s obnoxious laughter ringing in her head.
Should I just go back and put it down? No. Hell no. That would mean facing that lecture bomb. Might as well just get it over with.
Resigned to her fate, Yoon sighed before glancing at Lucas.
“So, how long are we gonna walk like this?”
She tapped at his hand, still resting heavily on her shoulder.
“Your hand’s heavier than it looks.”
Lucas stared down at it for a moment, then—slowly—withdrew his hand.
Yoon smirked.
Then, without warning, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.
“Come on. I just thought of somewhere I wanna go.”
* * *
Amidst the scattered gunfire, Yoon efficiently strapped on her gear.
This was the shooting range, a space designated for the organization’s members—and one that Yoon was deeply familiar with.
Even after being thrown into real combat, she had made a habit of regularly coming here, ensuring her skills never dulled.
Lately, with everything going on, she hadn’t had the chance to visit. But now that she was back, she found herself unexpectedly relieved.
Just as she was warming up, a loud voice called out.
“Hey! Yoon!!”
She barely had time to turn her head before a blur of brown hair charged toward her like a wild boar.
Yoon’s lips curled into a small smirk.
Turner.
Soft brown hair, a slim frame, and a face that was almost too neat and cute for this kind of life—he was her only real friend.
Turner greeted Lucas in passing before immediately grabbing Yoon’s face with both hands, turning it side to side as if inspecting for damage.
Lucas’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but Turner was too focused to notice.
“…Whu ahr you doing?”
Yoon’s words came out distorted, her cheeks squished in his grip.
Not letting go?
Her eyes practically cursed him.
Realizing his mistake, Turner quickly let go, laughing sheepishly.
Yoon rubbed her cheeks, scowling.
“I thought you got into another fight and got your ass kicked!”
Turner announced proudly.
“Who the hell would lay a hand on me?”
“You’re always picking fights! Just the other day at the casi—mmph!”
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