LONG CHAPTER AHEAD

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3. Change

Yoon, practically shoved into the auction house by Canux, couldn’t believe her eyes.

“That’s supposed to be fifty million won?”

It was nothing more than a bunch of pebbles glued onto a piece of paper—yet it was worth fifty million. Dumbfounded by the ridiculous price, Yoon scrutinized the artwork even further. It wasn’t even covered in gold leaf, yet it was outrageously expensive.

Bang! Bang!

“Sold!”

“Someone actually bought that?”

Yoon stared in disbelief at the woman who had just purchased the piece. The woman, looking immensely satisfied, basked in the attention of the crowd. Rich people really do throw money around differently.

One after another, bizarre and incomprehensible artworks were displayed, and each was sold at an absurd price. As the auction progressed, Yoon found herself letting out hollow chuckles.

She was certain—no matter how long she lived, she would never understand the “art” in art. Clicking her tongue, Yoon checked the time. Over an hour had passed since the auction began, yet the piece Canux wanted still hadn’t appeared.

Sitting still and pretending to be sophisticated was making her restless. She roughly loosened her tie, muttering a quiet curse under her breath.

For someone like Yoon, who despised formal gatherings, this was absolute torture. She would have preferred carrying a gun and heading out on a mission instead. Her sharp, lethal gaze made those around her uneasy.

“Did he not get the piece he wanted?”

“But… I haven’t seen him raise his paddle even once?”

Though they had no idea what Canux was after, they silently prayed he would get it soon and leave.

Meanwhile, from the moment Yoon stepped into the auction house, a certain man had been watching her. His eyes gleamed with intrigue as he studied her from head to toe. Then, as if he had just discovered something amusing, the corner of his lips curled into a smirk.

* * *

By the time Yoon was convinced that the old man had sent her here just to screw with her, a new painting appeared to enthusiastic applause. Just as she was about to say to hell with orders and walk out, her gaze was nailed to the artwork as if trapped.

“This painting is by the genius rookie artist, El, and is titled ‘Reminiscence.’ Bidding starts at five billion won.”

Paddles began rising as people called out their bids. But while the price soared, Yoon didn’t take her eyes off the painting for even a second.

The surrounding noise faded away. In front of her was the sea. She could almost hear the waves crashing.

The ocean in the painting was blue, yet also red like the sunset, and at certain angles, it even seemed to shimmer with violet hues. Before she knew it, Yoon had raised her paddle.

“Six billion.”

She could already picture Canux smacking her on the back for this, but she didn’t hesitate. Act first, think later. That was Yoon’s life philosophy.

Her entire life was spent paying off debts—what was a few billion more? Nothing would change anyway. The only thing waiting for her was Lucas’s intensified nagging and more missions.

“Six billion! Six billion has been bid! Any higher?”

“Seven billion.”

A billion more in an instant.

“Seven billion! Seven billion has been bid! Any higher?”

Shit. They were throwing around a billion like it was pocket change. Grinding her teeth, Yoon raised her paddle again.

“Eight billion.”

Damn it. She just locked herself into a lifetime of slavery. If this went any higher, she’d have to sell a kidney. Wait, do my organs even go for that much?

Maybe she should’ve quit smoking. Maybe she should’ve listened to Lucas. Regret hit her late as she desperately hoped the bidding would stop there.

But the world never worked in her favor.

“Ten billion.”

“What the actual fuck?”

She swore out loud. That number was beyond her reach. She had even considered selling an organ, and now it had jumped to ten billion. Yoon’s grip on the paddle slackened. Even if she sold all her organs, it wouldn’t be enough.

Murmurs spread through the auction house. This wasn’t even the final, most expensive piece—no rookie artist’s painting had ever skyrocketed like this. The auctioneer, clearly flustered, stammered.

“T-Ten billion! Any… anyone else?”

Silence settled over the room. The auctioneer glanced around before finally slamming the gavel down.

Bang! Bang!

“Sold!”

Her shoulders slumped. This was the first time—since her gun—that she had ever wanted something so badly. And just like that, it had slipped through her fingers, leaving behind a crushing sense of emptiness.

If she was doomed to spend her life drowning in debt anyway, she had at least wanted to buy a painting and drink while looking at it.

Who the hell had just thrown money around like this and crushed her one simple wish?

She needed to see their damn face.

Yoon immediately got up to find the winning bidder, but the man had already disappeared. She wanted nothing more than to chase after him, but she was stuck here until the piece Canux wanted finally appeared.

Grinding her teeth, she sank back into her seat. Her frustration toward the mystery bidder quickly shifted into rage toward the old man. She was going to drain that bastard’s wallet dry.

“Now, the highlight of today’s auction! Bidding starts at fifteen billion won!”

Fifteen billion—right from the start. It was such a ridiculous amount that Yoon scoffed. And Canux actually planned to buy this? He really had lost his mind.

Conveniently forgetting that she had just been willing to sell a kidney to cover ten billion, Yoon firmly concluded that the old man had gone senile.

‘Well, it’s not my money anyway. Might as well buy it at the highest price.’

Canux had been clear—bring the piece back, no matter what. He never said anything about keeping the cost down.

Yoon waited patiently, letting the bidding war escalate. Then, just when the highest offer appeared, she calmly raised her paddle.

“Thirty-five billion.”

It was the highest bid of the entire auction.

Imagining Canux clutching the back of his neck and collapsing in shock, Yoon smirked darkly.

* * *

After the auction ended, Yoon let out a sigh as she stared at Reminiscence by the artist El. Once this exhibition was over, she wouldn’t be able to see it again.

Unless the buyer lent it out for future displays or decided to sell it, it was gone from her reach. She wanted nothing more than to hunt the man down, shake him dry, and demand he hand over the painting—but that ship had already sailed.

Clutching the sting of loss, Yoon gazed at the artwork again. It was still the perfect embodiment of her childhood dream. And just like before, she felt herself being drawn into it.

Without realizing it, her hand reached toward the painting.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She flinched and turned her head. A tall man loomed over her, so tall that she had to crane her neck just to meet his gaze. The moment she saw his face, her brows furrowed.

Lowe Howard. The very bastard who had sent uninvited guests to her home.

“You clearly lack basic appreciation for art. Do you not even know that touching a painting is forbidden?”

His flat expression and mocking tone were absolutely infuriating. Yoon let out a short chuckle and withdrew her hand from the artwork.

“Ah, right. I wouldn’t know, seeing as I never got a proper education.”

She admitted it with a straight face, shoving her hands into her pockets.

“But then again, you don’t exactly seem refined yourself.”

She took a slow step toward him.

“Who did you stab this time?”

Her eyes turned cold. The scent was unmistakable—familiar, even. Something she was sensitive to.

“You reek.”

Yoon whispered, now standing dangerously close.

“Covered in the stench of blood, yet acting all high and mighty. Don’t you think that’s a bit funny?”

Her gaze was sharp enough to tear someone apart, but Lowe simply smirked, amused.

“Do you know me?”

“What’s with the dumb question? You know me too.”

Yoon didn’t bother hiding her irritation. Lowe Howard. There was no way she wouldn’t know him.

Not that she wanted to. Not that she cared. But Lucas had drilled the names of major mafia figures into her head, insisting she should at least know the basics.

Her gaze swept over him, blatant and unimpressed. He was tall, his face annoyingly smooth despite his rotten personality, and overall, he had that rare, decadent beauty that was hard to find.

‘Not my type.’

She had no interest in guys with punchable faces. Not all pretty faces were worth liking.

That thought led her to another man she knew—one she saw far too often.

She could almost hear his indifferent voice, telling her not to cause trouble.

‘Anyone would think I’m some ticking time bomb.’

Yoon muttered inwardly. Lucas might be an annoying nag, but objectively speaking, he was the kind of man people would turn to stare at on the street.

Tall, broad shoulders, a handsome face—hell, even his voice was unfairly pleasant. Now that she thought about it, there wasn’t a single thing lacking about that bastard.

‘Well, maybe he looks even better when he’s slicing up steak or patting my head with a smile.’

Seeing that face every day had probably numbed her. That was why Lowe Howard’s looks weren’t doing anything for her.

Lowe, on the other hand, was intrigued. Her cynical attitude only deepened the amusement in his gaze.

“Skipping the formalities and getting straight to business. I like that.”

A dark smile tugged at his lips as his fingers brushed over his mouth. He’d never met someone quite like her before. A fresh new toy—something exciting.

“I received the gift you sent me last time. I was expecting another one, so I must say, I’m quite disappointed.”

“Gift? You mean the bomb.”

Yoon scoffed at the obvious implication behind another gift.

“Could you move? You’re in the way of my appreciation.”

This painting—she had no idea when she’d see it again. And yet here was Lowe Howard, blocking her view, wasting her precious time. Her eyes naturally darkened with irritation.

“Quite the mouth for someone admiring my painting.”

“…What?”

Her brow twitched.

“The price was a bit excessive for a rookie artist, but judging by your expression, it was worth it.”

“So you’re the lunatic who was raising the bid by a billion at a time.”

The very bastard who had nearly driven her to selling a kidney. Yoon’s face turned ice-cold.

“Is there a problem with that?”

His shamelessness made her fists clench. It had been a long time since someone pissed her off more than Doctor.

Her already fragile patience felt like it was about to snap.

‘Don’t cause any trouble.’

Ugh. Did Lucas see the future or something? His voice echoed vividly in her head, making her grind her teeth and force herself to stay calm.

“So, are you at least planning to hang it in your house?”

“Hardly. It’ll probably end up in some warehouse, collecting dust.”

“You son of a—”

She couldn’t hold back the curse that burst from her mouth.

“Watch your language. If you want to keep that pretty face intact.”

His voice was low and laced with warning, but Yoon didn’t flinch. Instead, she shot back just as sharply.

“Why don’t you shut up first? Unlike you, I don’t bother with thinking—I just act.”

Her gaze flicked downward toward his waistband, where something solid pressed against his lower body.

“Oops. Move the wrong way, and you’ll be pissing through a tube for the rest of your life.”

Yoon smirked up at him, deliberately provoking him.

Lowe glanced down at the gun now aimed at his groin. His lips curled in amusement.

“Quick hands.”

His gaze swept their surroundings, and Yoon did the same. His men had quietly surrounded them.

She let out a derisive chuckle.

“Brought quite a crowd, huh? What, afraid of little old me?”

“Judging by how freely you’re running your mouth, I’d say you’re the one lacking fear.”

“Didn’t I already tell you? I never got much of an education. Maybe that’s why I don’t scare easy.”

She shrugged nonchalantly before tilting her head, as if just realizing something.

“By the way, you been busy playing around? If not, you definitely won’t be able to anymore.”

A smirk tugged at her lips, laced with mock sympathy.

“One more word out of you, and I’ll put a bullet through your skull.”

“Let’s see what happens first—your shot landing, or you losing something very important.”

A soft, almost lazy voice—but her smile was ice-cold.

A dangerous silence hung between them, a quiet flame sparking in their locked gazes.

Just then, a trembling staff member hesitantly approached, hands shaking as he spoke.

“Uh… I-I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your conversation, but… w-we’ve gone way past closing hours. If you wouldn’t mind continuing your discussion elsewhere…?”

Behind him, dozens of other employees stood frozen, watching the standoff in fear.

Yoon clicked her tongue and turned to Lowe. If they started a shootout here, government dogs would swarm in an instant.

With a subtle gesture, Lowe ordered his men to back off. Yoon, too, lowered her gun, finally easing the suffocating tension.

As the air cleared, the staff let out collective sighs of relief. At last, they could finally go home.

Or so they thought—until they saw Yoon striding toward them with purpose. One employee nearly choked on his breath.

“Who’s in charge here?”

“Y-Yes! That’s me!”

“Do you know when another one of El’s paintings will be up for auction?”

“Ah… I’m afraid I can’t give you a definite answer. Unlike other artists, he’s difficult to contact.”

The employee, though trembling, answered diligently. The mention of El being hard to reach deepened the disappointment on Yoon’s face.

“What about his real name? His appearance? Any records?”

“W-Well… He’s an incredibly private individual….”

The staff member trailed off nervously, glancing at Yoon as if afraid of offending her.

“I see.”

Yoon nodded slowly before adding casually—

“Oh, and I’d recommend deleting today’s CCTV footage.”

“Pardon? CCTV footage must be preserved according to regulations….”

The employee’s pupils wavered uncontrollably. A strange sense of doom settled over him.

Yoon nodded again, this time with something almost resembling understanding.

“Regulations are important, sure. But are they more important than your life?”

“M-My… My l-l-life…?”

Ah. So that’s why his dreams were so ominous last night. They’d been warning him about this. The poor staff member shivered violently, tears welling in his eyes.

“Ah, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

Yoon lazily gestured toward Lowe Howard.

The moment the trembling employee followed her gaze and locked eyes with Lowe, he let out a strangled squeak and collapsed onto the floor.

Yoon tilted her head, watching the pathetic display.

In the end, this incident wouldn’t leak. Even if she didn’t intervene, that annoying bastard would take care of it himself. Mafia conflicts stayed within mafia circles. That was their unspoken rule.

With that in mind, it really wasn’t her problem. She might as well leave.

Just as she was about to turn away—

‘Don’t cause any trouble.’

Lucas’s firm voice echoed in her head, anchoring her feet to the ground.

Damn it.

Groaning, she ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it in frustration.

Fine.

Grumbling under her breath, Yoon resigned herself to cleaning up the mess.
* * *

Yoon collapsed onto the bed with a soft thud, closing her eyes as she listened to the sound of running water from the bathroom. The quiet hum of everyday noise lulled her into drowsiness, and she let sleep take her without resistance.

Before long, the water stopped, and the bathroom door swung open. Yoon lazily opened her eyes just as Lucas stepped out, towel-drying his damp hair. His gaze landed on her sprawled across his bed, and after a moment, he lowered the towel and lightly tapped her forehead with his hand.

“…I don’t recall giving you the door code so you could just waltz in whenever you wanted.”

“Just let me sleep. This place is closer than my house.”

Mumbling, Yoon buried her face into the pillow.

“Did you secure the item?”

Still half-asleep, Yoon gave a sluggish nod and murmured.

“It’ll arrive at the main house within ten days.”

“Good work.”

Without another word, Yoon pushed herself up and trudged toward the bathroom.

“Give me some clothes.”

“Do I look like your wardrobe?”

Lucas sighed but handed her a set of his own clothes. Yoon casually waved a hand in thanks before stepping into the bathroom. The sound of running water soon followed.

Lucas resumed drying his hair, then moved on to tidying up the disheveled bed. Once finished, he headed to the kitchen, taking ingredients from the fridge and preparing a meal.

By the time the food was nearly done, Yoon emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered.

The dry clothes he’d given her were already damp from the water dripping off her hair, leaving a trail of droplets on the floor. Lucas let out a small sigh and reached for the towel draped around her neck, pulling it off.

“Sit.”

“Mhm.”

Yoon obediently perched on the edge of the bed. If someone else was willing to dry her hair for her, she had no complaints.

“You didn’t cause any trouble, did you?”

Lucas asked as he gently rubbed the towel through her hair.

“For the love of—can you stop saying that? I hear your voice everywhere I go now.”

She twisted around to glare at him, grumbling about developing a complex. Lucas chuckled quietly at her complaint.

“That’s good to hear.”

He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, turning her back around with ease before continuing to dry her hair.

Yoon blinked at the sudden shift in position but soon relaxed, her body growing slack under the rhythmic motion. The soft rustling of the towel against her hair tickled her ears, making her feel light and drowsy.

As a quiet hum escaped her lips, Lucas’s hands suddenly froze.

“Why’d you stop? Keep going.”

Yoon mumbled, grabbing his hand and pressing it against her head, urging him to continue.

For a brief moment, Lucas forgot to breathe.

There were rare times—like now—when Yoon acted this endearing without even realizing it. And every time, it caught him off guard.

Hiding his reaction, he casually ruffled her hair, messing it up on purpose.

Yoon shot him a disgruntled look but didn’t push further as he smoothly brushed past her sulking.

“Get up. Eat something before you sleep.”

“Not hungry.”

She flopped down onto the bed, intent on passing out immediately, but Lucas blocked her effortlessly, gently guiding her back upright.

Just then—

Ding.

Yoon’s phone buzzed.

Lucas reached over, picked it up, and held it out to her, but she waved a dismissive hand.

With a sigh, he glanced at the screen—

Then, without a word, he suddenly grabbed her wrist.

“Wait.”

“What? Didn’t you just tell me to eat?”

Yoon asked, confused. Lucas was staring at her phone screen in silence, his expression hardening by the second.

“Yoon.”

“What?”

She gave her wrist a little shake, signaling him to hurry up and spit it out.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t cause trouble?”

Her movements came to an abrupt halt. A bad feeling crept over her.

“I… didn’t?”

The uncertainty in her own voice made her frown. Something was definitely wrong.

“Then what’s this?”

Lucas turned the screen toward her.

Yoon squinted at the message, pulling his hand closer to read it properly.

[The gift will arrive in a few days. See you next time.]

Just as she was about to ask who sent it, her eyes landed on the attached image.

Her mouth slowly fell open.

“…That crazy bastard.”

The words slipped out instinctively, her voice laced with disbelief.

She shot a glance at Lucas, who let out a long, deep sigh. His silence was far more terrifying than if he had started yelling.

Suppressing the sharp rise in his temper, he asked once more—

“Explain.”

His voice, low and dangerous, made it clear he wasn’t simply asking what happened.

‘What the hell did you do this time?’

Yoon let out an awkward chuckle, cursing Lowe Howard internally. That guy never brought anything good into her life. Any drowsiness from before had completely evaporated.

“Uh… How about we eat first and then talk?”

She gave him her best attempt at a casual deflection.

Lucas’s eyebrow twitched.

“Didn’t you just say you weren’t hungry?”

The immediate, icy retort sent her eyes darting sideways. She could already tell—no excuse was going to get her out of this one.

‘I’m screwed.’

If she didn’t answer properly, he was going to kick her out.

With no choice left, Yoon gave a condensed version of everything that had happened—the encounter at the auction house, the run-in with Lowe at the exhibition, and the near-disaster that followed.

Of course, she made sure to emphasize how perfectly she had handled the aftermath.

By the time she finished, Lucas was pressing a hand to his temple, trying to soothe his growing headache.

“So, let me get this straight—you almost started a full-blown shootout at an exhibition full of civilians. Over a painting.”

“Hey, no, that’s not the point. The point is that I almost did but didn’t, and I even wrapped everything up neatly.”

Yoon, like a guilty cat, subtly reached for his fingers, tapping them lightly as if to pacify him.

Lucas exhaled, long and slow.

“…Was the painting really that important?”

Yoon, who had been bracing herself for a storm of nagging, blinked at the unexpected question.

If she admitted that she liked it, he would ask why. And if she answered that, she would inevitably have to talk about the past.

Without realizing it, she tightened her grip around his fingers. Her own fingers wove between his, pressing into the familiar warmth.

Slowly, she murmured—

“It’s not that I liked it, exactly… It just felt kind of nostalgic.”

Her voice trailed off into something quieter.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers over his hand, before eventually pulling it onto her lap.

It was an unconscious habit—one Lucas recognized well.

She never noticed, but whenever she was unsettled, she did this.

Watching her in silence, Lucas simply let her hold his hand.

As Yoon absentmindedly played with Lucas’s hand, old memories surfaced—memories of a childhood that was neither special nor kind. Just another forgotten kid in 5th Avenue, where everything was bleak and cruel.

She blinked slowly, then spoke in a voice so calm it could lull a listener to sleep.

“Well… you already know this, but before I was dragged into this life by the boss, I lived in 5th Avenue. A place crawling with addicts, gamblers, and all kinds of lunatics. My so-called father was one of them.”

Though I killed him with my own hands.

Yoon stated it matter-of-factly, with a bitter smirk. A child who murdered their own parent. That label would follow her to the grave, but she didn’t care. Even if she went back to that day, she would kill him all over again.

Once she started speaking, the words came easier. What started as a reluctant confession soon became a detached retelling of the past.

“Unlike now, I was weak back then. Pathetically powerless against violence. The most frequent thought in my head was, ‘Ah, I wish I were dead.’ I grew up getting beaten almost every day.”

Her smile was empty, like someone telling an amusing but distant story. The quiet chuckle that followed dug into Lucas’s chest like a blade.

He had known—suspected, at least—that Yoon’s life had been cruel. But hearing her say it out loud made it worse than he had imagined.

“But there was one boy who took care of me. Blond hair, blue eyes—he was ridiculously good-looking.”

Her tone softened with faint amusement, as if her story had taken a turn.

“He was the one who gave me my name. Back then, I didn’t have one.”

Yoon’s voice was eerily steady as she continued.

“Kids like me—ones with similar backgrounds—used to mock me for it. Saying I was just some nameless Asian girl. But then, that boy came up to me and said he’d give me a name. In return, he asked me to name him too. And that’s how we both got names. I became Yoon, and he became Noah.”

She let the name roll off her tongue slowly, as if savoring it.

“I was happy. It wasn’t the man who hit me and left me to starve who named me—it was someone who took care of me, someone who cherished me. Even if I pretended otherwise, I really liked him.”

At that, Lucas unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand.

Noticing, Yoon lightly tapped his hand, silently telling him to relax, before continuing.

“Every time that man beat me, the only place I could escape to was Noah. He took hits in my place dozens of times. He patched up my wounds hundreds of times. And every time, he held me tight and whispered the same words—’It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. It won’t hurt anymore.’”

Those words felt like a spell.

Yes, Noah’s voice had always felt like a spell. When he spoke, the pain and the wounds seemed to fade.

Yoon had survived hell every day because of his kindness.

Lucas swallowed. The way Yoon spoke—her soft expression, her wistful tone—it made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“It was the first time anyone had ever held me like that. The first time warmth had ever felt real. I was so shocked. I never knew something in this world could feel that gentle.”

Her voice dipped into something almost nostalgic.

“So every time I saw Noah, I’d beg him to hold me. He’d always sigh like he had no choice but still pull me into his arms.”

A small laugh slipped from her lips at the memory.

“He told me about all the beautiful things in the world. He told me about the ocean, how blue it was, how sometimes it turned red like the sunset, and how it could even shimmer purple. He promised we’d go see it together one day. But we never did.”

Because one day, Noah disappeared.

Yoon let out a dry, humorless chuckle and flopped back onto the bed. The soft sheets swallowed her, wrapping around her like a cocoon.

“That painting… it looked exactly like the ocean Noah described to me. That’s why I wanted it so badly.”

Turning on her side to face Lucas, she tapped the back of his hand lightly.

“Does that answer your question?”

Lucas exhaled slowly.

“…Yeah.”

He forced the words out, swallowing down the unfamiliar storm of emotions that threatened to rise.

“Can I sleep now?”

Yoon’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as she stared at Lucas.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

“No.”

“What now?!”

Yoon groaned, running a frustrated hand through her hair at his sharp, unwavering answer. She shot him a glare filled with pure betrayal, but all he did was casually flick her forehead.

“Because you need to eat.”

His quiet chuckle brushed against her ears, and before she could protest further, his large hand landed gently on top of her head.

“Come on, Yoon. Let’s eat.”

“Ugh. That damn food obsession of yours.”

She grumbled but, seeing the faint smile tugging at his lips, found herself feeling strangely reassured.

With a dramatic sigh, she trudged after him, following him to the kitchen.

* * *

Sarak—

Fingers gently brushed away stray strands of hair before tapping her nose lightly, as if giving her a small punishment.

Yoon didn’t stir.

Lucas, watching her peaceful face, let a small, almost imperceptible smile slip. With practiced ease, he pulled the blanket over her and got up from the bed.

As always, she had barged in unannounced, sprawled across his bed without a care. And as always, that meant he was banished to the couch again.

His lips twitched into a wry smile. The absurdity of the situation wasn’t even the funny part—it was how naturally he was getting used to it.

Letting out a quiet exhale, he lay down on the couch, flipping through documents under the soft glow of the lamp. Shadows danced across his sharp features as he skimmed over the endless pages of reports, his fingers rubbing at his temple as exhaustion began to creep in.

There was too much information to process in a single day. But out of everything he’d received, the most pressing was still her.

From the moment they met, Yoon had been impossible to ignore. Even now, after all this time, she continued to pull his attention like a gravitational force.

His expression darkened slightly.

And then there was Lowe Howard.

The bastard’s interest in Yoon was beyond blatant. Deliberate. Lucas had expected someone from the Howard family to attend the auction, but he hadn’t expected Lowe himself.