TMFS Chapter 3 (Part 2)

More importantly, the bastard hadn’t even bid on the item he was supposed to. Instead, he had focused on her.

Lucas’s grip on the papers tightened.

Their encounter today could be written off as coincidence. But their next one? That would be intentional.

Ten billion won. Lowe had thrown that amount at a painting just to gift it to Yoon. She had scoffed and said she would return it immediately, but Lucas doubted that would be the end of it. Lowe Howard wasn’t the type to back off just because he was told to.

This was just the beginning.

Lucas sighed, draping an arm over his forehead.

His mind wandered back to the way Yoon had fidgeted with his hand earlier—something she always did when unsettled. And then, to the name that had fallen from her lips with such quiet reverence.

Noah.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips.

The moonlight cast a pale glow over him, but it didn’t bring clarity. If anything, it made his thoughts even more tangled.

He had finally realized where Yoon’s indifference toward the world stemmed from.

She was still there. Still stuck in that past—lingering in a time when that boy had been by her side.

She wasn’t searching for anything. She wasn’t moving toward anything. She was simply existing, carrying that emptiness with her like a shadow.

And it was that precarious state of hers that made it impossible for him to look away.

At first, it had been obligation. Then, responsibility. And now—

He exhaled deeply.

Somewhere along the way, watching over her had become second nature.

He knew she wasn’t a child. He knew she was more capable than most.

And yet, he still couldn’t look away.

“…Have I been tamed while trying to tame a wild horse?”

A quiet, self-deprecating chuckle slipped from his lips.

Something about the way she spoke of him—Noah—left a strange, hollow sensation in his chest.

For someone so sharp, so ruthless to others, she softened so easily in front of him.

Every time she melted like a content cat under his touch, his chest tightened in a way he couldn’t explain.

It unnerved him.

And yet, at the same time, it settled something deep within him.

The fact that he was the one she trusted enough to relax around. That she let him take care of her. That she let herself be held when she was at her weakest.

It filled something inside him in a way he didn’t even know was empty.

Lucas didn’t bother suppressing the feeling.

There was no need.

After all, Yoon wouldn’t notice, no matter what emotions he held toward her.

And besides—

Even he wasn’t sure what shape this feeling would eventually take.

For now, he would leave it blank.

* * *

“Shouldn’t you be able to handle simple treatments like this on your own by now?”

Doctor’s voice dripped with irritation as he tended to the wound. Every patient that walked through his door these days was just another boring, run-of-the-mill case. With a dull expression, he carelessly finished his work, stripped off his gloves, and tossed them aside.

The injured underling, who had just been about to stand, looked at him in disbelief. Since when was getting stabbed considered a simple wound that someone could just handle on their own?

Knowing better than to argue with the eccentric doctor, the man furrowed his brows but ultimately said nothing. With a brief nod, he left the room.

Doctor threw the bloodied gauze into the trash and reached for the coffee sitting beside him. The drink had long gone cold, but he downed it in one go, biting into the ice with an audible crunch.

“Tch… nothing quite gives me a thrill like Yoon does.”

Ever since she had nearly killed him, he had made a conscious effort to avoid provoking her too much. But dealing with these lifeless patients every day was wearing thin. His days had grown dull, void of excitement.

As he tapped the empty cup, debating whether to get another, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID, a dry smile stretching across his lips before he picked up.

“How rare for you to call me directly. What’s the occasion?”

—I always call for the same reason. How is she?

A deep, weighty voice came through the receiver.

“The same as always.”

Doctor twirled the empty coffee cup in his fingers as he answered nonchalantly.

—Good. Keep it that way.

The voice on the other end sounded satisfied.

“…Of course.”

Doctor’s lips curled into a crooked smirk as he hung up.

“Persistent old bastard.”

The way he gave orders as if he owned Yoon’s body was laughable.

Doctor let out a derisive chuckle. Even he—someone who had deliberately sabotaged Yoon’s treatment—was growing sick of the old man’s obsessive meddling.

“Not that I have much room to talk.”

After all, he was the one intentionally blocking Yoon’s attempts to fix her condition.

But even he found this situation infuriating. If not for the ridiculous amount of research funding being dangled in front of him like a leash, he wouldn’t even be entertaining these calls.

From the very first moment he met her, Yoon had been an intriguing subject.

Her background as a street rat was one thing, but her level of skill, her combat instincts—everything about her had drawn his attention.

And then there was her condition.

She was fascinating. A puzzle he had to solve. He had barely restrained himself from dissecting her the moment they met.

And then, one day, Yoon had walked into his clinic on her own, asking for treatment.

An experimental subject that walked in of its own accord? He had never been more thrilled.

He had been so close—preparing a variety of tests, making all the necessary arrangements.

Then, the old man called.

Told him to prevent Yoon from ever receiving proper treatment.

For Doctor, who had never intended to actually cure her in the first place, this was hardly a bad deal.

He was a man of science, driven by his thirst for knowledge. To him, Yoon was not a patient—she was a specimen.

What mattered wasn’t healing her but what he could learn from her.

But there was a problem.

No matter how much he viewed her as a test subject, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was the underboss’s favorite attack dog.

If Lucas—or worse, Canux—ever found out what he was really doing, his fate would be sealed.

At best, he’d be executed.

At worst, his organs would be harvested, or he’d be shipped off to some godforsaken coal mine to rot.

So when the old man offered him protection in exchange for sabotaging Yoon’s treatment, Doctor had accepted without hesitation.

From that day forward, he had disguised his experiments as treatment.

Yoon endured them, believing she was working toward a cure, while he quietly extracted every piece of data he needed.

Then, one day, the old man had met Yoon in person.

And from that day forward—Yoon refused to set foot in his clinic ever again.

Just like that, he had lost his perfect test subject.

And yet, despite that, the old man still called him regularly, demanding updates on Yoon’s condition.

Doctor’s cold gaze sharpened.

“I wonder… what kind of face that bastard would make if he lost his precious experiment?”

His lips twisted into something dark.

It would be amusing, to say the least.

Even beyond her scientific value, Yoon was… interesting. Captivating.

The thought of her perched above him, pinning him down, her eyes burning with intent to kill—his body remembered the thrill of it.

“Tch. Nothing is sexier than a strong, dangerous woman.”

Even just recalling that moment made his body heat up.

And now, with rumors swirling about the Howard family’s movements, it was only a matter of time before Yoon returned to him.

Only a matter of time before she was back in his hands.

“I hope you get injured. Badly. No—severely.”

That way, she’d be confined to his clinic, his hospital bed, under his care, for a very, very long time.

Doctor let out a low chuckle, his smirk curling wickedly as he leaned back in his chair.

* * *

A few days later.

Yoon sat in a plush chair, crushing ice between her teeth with a murderous expression.

A glass of top-tier liquor sat untouched in front of her, gleaming gold under the light. And yet, Yoon ignored it, focusing her aggression on the unfortunate ice instead.

‘Tch. This is pissing me off.’

Even she knew better than to drink in a situation like this. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t irritated at the wasted opportunity.

As she glared at the swirling alcohol like it had personally wronged her, her gaze finally lifted—to the man seated leisurely across from her, one leg crossed over the other.

Lowe Howard.

The reason she was here. The reason for her ruined mood.

Her expression darkened further.

“If your goal was to piss me off, congratulations. I’m in a really shitty mood right now.”

She muttered coldly.

Lowe’s lips curled in amusement.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

His tone was lazy, deliberate.

Yoon scoffed.

“Why the hell did you send me that painting?”

Just thinking about Lucas’s lecture that night made her blood boil.

Lowe swirled his drink lazily, watching the ice catch the light as if he had all the time in the world.

“Isn’t it normal to be happy when receiving an expensive gift?”

He took a sip, arching an eyebrow as if he genuinely didn’t understand her hostility.

“What, do you idiots just shove anything into your mouths without checking if it’s poison first?”

Yoon sneered, crossing her legs in a defiant posture.

Lowe chuckled, unfazed by the sharp look in her eyes.

“Sometimes, it’s good to have a taste of something different.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not get indigestion.”

She shot back with a smirk.

Lowe tilted his head, his smirk deepening.

“How do you know it won’t become a regular meal instead?”

His words were laced with something deeper, something that wasn’t just meaningless banter. If Yoon accepted his offer, if she came to his side—he could offer her far more than just a painting.

But Yoon’s expression remained ice-cold.

“I don’t eat anything that comes from your hand.”

“Hmm. I think that’s only a matter of time.”

“Ha. Where the hell do you get this confidence?”

Yoon let out a breath of disbelief.

Lowe, smiling like he had just been waiting for this moment, placed his glass down with a soft clink.

“Let’s make it official. Join us.”

His fingers laced together as he leaned forward slightly, the dim light casting sharp shadows across his face.

Yoon let out an unimpressed snort.

“You enjoy talking out of your ass, don’t you? Every word that comes out of your mouth sounds like complete nonsense.”

Her black eyes gleamed with open disdain as she slowly raked her gaze up and down his frame.

“It’s not a bad deal, is it? Whatever Maier’s paying you, I can offer more.”

As if to prove his point, Lowe slid a briefcase across the table.

With a soft click, the case opened, revealing stacks upon stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills.

A blatant bribe.

Yoon let out a humorless chuckle.

“Is this how you recruit all your people? Just throwing money at them and hoping they stick?”

“That’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”

His answer was smooth, immediate.

“Yeah? Then take your money and shove it. Give it to your brain-dead subordinates instead.”

“So you’re rejecting both my generosity and my respect.”

Lowe let out a low, amused chuckle.

Yoon, deadpan, stared at him like he had completely lost his mind.

“Respect? You call breaking into my damn house respect?”

Her voice was sharp, cutting.

Lowe, unbothered, simply shrugged.

“I thought I was being quite polite. Were my men a bit too… aggressive?”

Go ahead. Apologize.

His eyes practically dared her to believe he would.

Yoon scoffed, her glare turning ice-cold.

“So it wasn’t your fault?”

Lowe arched a brow, as if genuinely surprised by her tone.

“Correct.”

A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.

Yoon exhaled sharply.

“Wow. You must be a spectacularly incompetent boss. Can’t even make your men follow simple orders.”

Her lips curled into a razor-sharp smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes.

And just like that, the air between them snapped—two sets of eyes locking, the tension between them palpable.

Lowe leaned forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. His black eyes gleamed with a sharp, predatory light, like a raptor locking onto its prey.

“Listen, Yoon.”

His voice dropped into a low, deliberate tone.

“There’s only one reason I tolerate your insolence.”

Gone was the playful, teasing act. His gaze was dark, heavy with intent.

“You’re alive right now because you’re irreplaceable.”

Each word was clipped, laced with unmistakable threat. The sheer pressure behind them would have made most people shrink back.

But Yoon?

She rose to meet him, leaning in just as close.

“You should be thankful you’re not in a position where I can slit your throat right now.”

Her voice was ice-cold, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Because the moment you called my name with that filthy mouth, you would’ve been dead.”

Lowe’s lips curled slightly.

“And what was that?” Yoon scoffed. “Join Howard? If I did, do you actually have the power to bring me up to your level?”*

Her smirk was pure mockery. It was laughable, the way he acted as if he could keep her by his side.

His expression stiffened slightly, a sign that she had hit a nerve.

“Do you really think I can’t?”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking. If I were to join you, could you push aside all your lackeys and keep me right beside you?”

Yoon’s smirk widened, taunting him.

His brow twitched.

She didn’t believe he could.

And that—that certainty in her eyes, that blatant lack of faith—that was what pissed him off the most.

He wanted to wipe that expression right off her face.

Lowe’s lips curled into a twisted smirk.

“Fine. I’ll keep you by my side.”

“Rejected.”

Her response was immediate.

In an instant, the air between them became razor-sharp.

Killing intent poured off him in waves, but Yoon remained utterly unfazed.

“The fact that you even hesitated means you’re not worth considering. Why the hell would I join you when you might replace me the second someone better comes along?”

Her dark eyes gleamed with contempt.

Lowe’s expression darkened further.

“You’re rejecting an opportunity just because you’re afraid of being discarded? That’s the logic of a coward.”

His voice was laced with scorn.

But Yoon only smirked.

“Don’t make me laugh. I just can’t stand the idea of being next to someone like you. Money, status—anything I’d get from standing by your side is worthless to me.”

The smirk vanished from her lips, leaving only cold finality.

“So just accept it—your people skills are trash. Don’t waste your time trying to recruit me.”

Lowe let out a low, humorless chuckle. The atmosphere between them crackled with unspoken hostility.

Then, his lips parted.

“Hypoalgesia.”

A single word.

Yoon’s smirk slowly faded.

Lowe’s smile deepened.

“An interesting condition, don’t you think? Or should I call it a disease?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Yoon spoke, her voice eerily calm.

“And? Are you trying to use that against me?”

“Of course not. I’m just letting you know how valuable you are.”

He leaned back slightly, exuding confidence.

“You’ve put up a good fight, but you’ve played hard to get long enough. Now, be reasonable and come to my side.”

Yoon stared at him for a long moment, then let out a low chuckle.

“You must really want this defective body of mine.”

Despite her mocking words, Lowe didn’t waver. He met her gaze head-on.

“Who wouldn’t? That body, that skill—there isn’t a single person in this world who wouldn’t want it.”

He stated it as if it were an undeniable fact.

But his certainty only made Yoon feel tired.

She let out a slow exhale, her lips twisting.

“That damn hypoalgesia.”

It was always the same.

No one ever wanted her.

Only the advantages she came with.

And honestly? She wasn’t even surprised anymore.

She got it.

She had used it to claw her way up this far.

But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

No matter how many times she heard it, she never got used to it.

The way people reduced her entire existence to just one thing.

It made her sick.

Yoon shoved the bitter feeling down, unwilling to let it show.

“So what, am I some rare breed you want to collect?”

Her gaze was devoid of humor as she met Lowe’s eyes.

“You understand perfectly.”

Lowe leaned back against the sofa, completely at ease.

“You asked what makes you different. I have plenty of skilled subordinates. But they can all be replaced.”

His voice was indifferent, but the underlying truth in it was frigid.

“And yet, they’re your own men.”

Yoon’s voice was laced with quiet disgust.

“Replaceable.”

He might as well have said disposable.

She wasn’t one of his people, and even she was irritated by it. But Lowe didn’t seem to care.

“Of course, if they die, I’ll be deeply saddened.”

His voice was rich and smooth, carrying the illusion of sincerity.

“They sacrificed themselves for the organization, after all. But beyond that?”

He shrugged.

“All I need to do is find new ones to fill their place. But you? You’re different. A sniper who doesn’t feel pain… could there be anything more valuable?”

His piercing gaze locked onto hers.

An intense, focused stare, like a hawk eyeing its prey.

But Yoon didn’t flinch.

She stared back.

For a long moment, the two sat in a silence so heavy it felt like the entire room had been swallowed by it.

Then, Yoon finally spoke, breaking the quiet.

“I don’t know why I’m even wasting my breath on this conversation, but let me make this clear.”

Her voice was firm, final.

“I have zero interest in joining the Howard family. I don’t want anything to do with you. And frankly?”

She pushed herself up from her seat.

“I don’t want to see your damn face again.”

Lowe’s expression remained unreadable as he watched her stand.

Yoon turned slightly, adding one last thing.

“Oh, and about the painting—I’m sending it back. Burn it, shove it in storage, do whatever you want with it.”

The decision left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She wanted that painting. Badly.

But it wasn’t more important than Lucas.

She wasn’t about to let Lowe use it as a wedge to make things harder for him.

With no hesitation, she turned and walked away.

Bang.

The door slammed shut behind her.

And yet, Lowe’s dark gaze remained fixed on where she had just stood.

Then—

“…Interesting.”

His voice was low, eerie.

Crash—!

The glass in his hand shattered, spilling golden liquid across the table.

Blood dripped down his hand, staining the pristine bills in front of him.

Without a flicker of emotion, he wiped his hand on the stack of cash, smearing it red.

Crimson-soaked dollars tumbled to the floor in crumpled heaps.

The light above cast sharp shadows over his face.

His eyes gleamed, razor-sharp.

“Very interesting.”

His smirk vanished in an instant, his expression turning to ice.

Then, in a voice so quiet, so laced with cold fury that it sent a chill through the air, he murmured—

“Her master has trained his dog very well.”

Disgustingly well.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous, sinking into the darkness like a blade.

* * *

By the time Yoon stepped outside, night had fully settled in, casting long shadows under the streetlights. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

A sigh escaped her lips as she saw the group of enforcers standing at attention in front of her.

“We’ll escort you home.”

Her direct subordinate, Haener, spoke in a voice brimming with discipline.

“Forget it. Go back.”

Yoon’s tone was laced with exhaustion.

When Haener hesitated, clearly torn between orders, Yoon threw out another response, irritated.

“I’m not going home. So scram. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Haener grimaced. Lucas had specifically ordered them to ensure Yoon made it home safely.

There was a time when Haener, like many others, couldn’t accept the idea of an Asian woman holding the position of Head Enforcer. He had even gone so far as to challenge her outright.

But after barely scraping through a near-death experience, he had finally accepted his place beneath her.

Now, his dilemma was clear: Yoon was his superior, but Lucas’s orders couldn’t be ignored either.

His head spun, torn between duty and survival. After some painful deliberation, he spoke carefully.

“Then at least allow us to escort you wherever you’re going. Once you’ve finished your business, we’ll take you home.”

Yoon groaned internally.

‘Should’ve just kept my mouth shut.’

This whole mess had started that morning.

She had never intended to hide the fact that she was meeting Lowe Howard. In fact, she had told Lucas outright.

His immediate reaction had been a stone-cold rejection.

But in the end, he had reluctantly agreed—under the condition that she take bodyguards with her.

Lucas’s overprotectiveness was a little much, but Yoon didn’t argue.

Even she wasn’t oblivious to who she was meeting. She knew exactly how dangerous Lowe was.

She wasn’t afraid of him, but Yoon was practical—fearless didn’t mean reckless.

She hadn’t liked having a tail all day, but she put up with it.

Now, though, the meeting was over.

And she had no intention of going home just yet.

The guards still lingering around her cast hopeful glances, silently pleading for a quick dismissal.

Annoyed, Yoon clicked her tongue before pulling out her phone and dialing a number.

“Are you working?”

—Obviously. What, why? Hurry up and say it! I literally had to sneak away just to take this call.

The rapid-fire response made Yoon pull the phone away from her ear in mild irritation before answering.

“I’m drinking tonight. You coming or not?”

—The hell? You’re actually drinking outside for once? Where at?

“…Spero Spera.”

The name came to her mind unexpectedly.

A place she hadn’t thought of in a long time.

As the name left her lips, Yoon’s expression wavered briefly.

She remembered a woman—elegant, dazzling, unforgettable.

Not that it mattered.

She was going because they promised good liquor. That was the only reason.

—Where the hell is that? You actually remember the name of a bar? That’s a first.

Turner sounded far too amused for her liking.

Yoon, unimpressed, kept her tone flat.

“Are you coming or not?”

Even her cold indifference didn’t faze him.

—Go ahead without me! I’ll head over after I finish up.

Yoon hummed, satisfied with his response.

“Just so you know, the drinks are expensive tonight.”

It was a casual warning.

She fully intended to drink the liquor she should have had earlier that evening.

It was ridiculously overpriced, but if she couldn’t afford to drink something good, then what was the point of making money?

—I’m on my way. Right now.

Click.

The call ended immediately.

Yoon smirked before glancing at the guards still hovering around her, clearly waiting for orders.

“Congratulations. You’re all designated drivers tonight. Let’s go.”

With that, she turned on her heel, heading straight for the bar.

* * *

Turner practically skipped into the office, but the heavy silence that greeted him made him immediately slow his steps.

Something about Lucas’s atmosphere screamed not now.

Quietly, he slid into his chair, barely making a sound.

His eyes darted to the desk. A stack of documents lay in front of Lucas, but Turner wasn’t about to wait for orders.

Faster than the speed of light, he started sorting through the paperwork.

Once he deemed it safe enough, he cautiously tested the waters.

“Uh, boss, since all the urgent tasks have been handled today, maybe… it’d be a good night to, you know, head home early for once…?”

Turner kept his tone light, casual—but his real motive was anything but.

Because if Yoon said the liquor was expensive, then it was really damn expensive.

Just thinking about it made Turner giddy.

He could already imagine the first sip—

“Got plans?”

Lucas didn’t even look up.

Turner immediately leaned back, throwing up his hands in mock innocence.

“Pfft, of course not! It’s just, you know, work’s been hectic lately, and since everything’s wrapped up for the night, I thought it’d be best if you got some rest, boss.”

He plastered on his most earnest smile.

Lucas finally lifted his gaze, his eyes locking onto Turner with an unreadable expression.

A long, slow stare.

Turner froze.

Then, finally—

“Go.”

“Thank you, boss!”

Turner practically exploded out of his chair, already halfway to the door.

Even so, he still had the presence of mind to gently close it behind him.

Lucas let out a quiet chuckle before finally setting his pen down.