Bar
Kro sat across from Sue, watching her with quiet attention.
Sue was ordering her fifth bottle of beer.
Kro had not expected that.
When she had invited Sue out, it had not been because she wanted company. She had only wanted to teach Ukraine a lesson—to show him exactly how it felt to be escaped, avoided, and outplayed. But now that she was here, with Sue half-drowning herself in beer and bitterness, the evening had taken on a different shape.
Kro herself had only a single glass of wine before her.
She was not in the mood to drink.
Not really.
Sue stared at the empty bottle in her hand and muttered, "Stupid devil."
Then, absurdly, she laughed. The laugh was too sudden, too loose, too close to tears.
Kro said nothing. She only kept watching, reading the signs with careful precision. Sue's eyes were too bright. Her words were beginning to slip. Her anger had become liquid.
"Should I take you home now?" Kro asked, slowly twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers.
"No," Sue replied at once. "I still think about it. I want to get drunk and forget."
Kro lifted a brow, "So right now, you're not?"
Sue snorted, "I'm just getting started."
"Of course you are."
The waiter began approaching with Sue's fifth bottle.
Kro raised two fingers.
A silent order.
Take it back.
The waiter caught the signal and turned away at once.
Sue had had enough. Any more and she would feel it in her body tomorrow, maybe worse in her heart. Kro cared enough not to let that happen.
"I'm here to listen," Kro said after a moment, her voice calm enough to settle dust, "if you want to talk about it."
Sue waved a hand vaguely.
"I don't want to burden you. It's my mess. I'll deal with it."
Kro tilted her head, "If I may ask… how's Zoe?"
The change in Sue was immediate.
The smile vanished from her face as if someone had wiped it clean. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she looked away at once, almost childishly searching for the waiter who was no longer coming.
"Where is he?" she mumbled.
"Sue," Kro said gently, setting down her wine glass, "you don't get rewarded for bottling your emotions. Talking about what hurts you does not make you weak." She leaned back slightly, "And don't bother looking for the waiter. I told him not to bring the beer."
Sue let out a shaky breath.
"My daughter is just six years old," she said, her voice trembling. "But she took her to a boarding school without even telling me. And…" She hiccuped. "She won't even tell me the name of the school."
Kro's gaze sharpened.
"Your mother-in-law?"
Sue nodded miserably.
"I'm angry enough to kill her right now. But I'm trying to stay calm. For my daughter."
Kro studied her.
"But Sue," she said, "what did you do to make her treat you like this? Because honestly, I don't understand why you let her walk all over you."
Sue glanced around, then leaned forward, clearly intending to whisper.
Kro leaned in too. "Tell me," she said. "What is it?"
Sue swallowed.
Then, in a low, unstable whisper, she said, "Nobody knows this, but I… I killed my husband."
Kro did not move.
Sue laughed immediately after saying it, a broken, drunken sound.
"I pushed him off the stairs."
Then she laughed harder, tears still sliding down her face.
Kro remained still, watching her.
She could not tell whether this was the alcohol speaking in ugly fragments or whether it was truth finally leaking through the cracks. But if it was true, then Sue was carrying much more than stress.
Much more than bitterness.
And Kro, who had taken lives before she had even fully understood what life was, knew exactly what first blood could do to a person's soul.
Sue looked delicate.
But delicate souls could shatter into dangerous shapes.
...
Damaki
Ukraine had not wanted to come. But when his father texted that there was an urgent family meeting, refusal had not seemed like a real option. So he went.
Mr. Song was already waiting.
Alone.
The eagerness on his face only made Ukraine more suspicious as he entered the house and immediately noticed the silence.
No grandmother.
No grandfather.
Just his father.
Ukraine frowned.
"Where is everyone, Dad?"
Song answered too quickly, "It's just you and me today. Mom and Dad needed to rest."
It was a lie.
Ukraine could hear it in the smoothness.
"But they know we're here, right?"
"Of course they do," Song said.
"Great."
Ukraine didn't believe him, but he let it pass.
He crossed to the whisky table, poured himself a drink, and sat across from his father.
Song wasted no time.
"How's work?" he asked. "How long has it been now?"
"Work is unexpectedly fine," Ukraine said, taking a sip. "Almost two weeks."
"Anything unusual?"
Ukraine thought for a moment.
"Except her body temperature being ice-cold, nothing obvious."
Song leaned forward. "So we can say she's a dead girl?"
Ukraine gave him a strange look.
"She's alive. Just… alive for too long. Long enough that her whole body seems exhausted."
Song scoffed, "What kind of science is that?"
"I'm just saying what I've seen." Ukraine took another sip. "I'll keep looking for clearer things. Maybe her heartbeat. Maybe whether her body still bleeds—"
"No!"
The word cracked through the room so suddenly that Ukraine stopped mid-motion, whisky halfway to his mouth.
He stared at his father.
Song cleared his throat almost at once.
"What I mean," he said, trying to recover, "is don't touch her. Leave things like her heartbeat and her body alone. We already know she isn't human. We don't need to hurt her to prove it."
Ukraine slowly lowered his glass.
That was not what they had agreed on.
Not even close.
"I thought the whole point was to go deeper."
"What does she like?" Song cut in quickly. "What about her personality? Favorite food? Things like that."
Ukraine stared at him, openly baffled. "Dad, I'll be honest. I'm very confused right now." He sat forward, "Do you want me to find out who she really is, or do you want me to find out what her favorite meal is? I need to know where the line is, because Kro is not an easy target. I have to be careful."
His voice sharpened.
"So tell me exactly what you want from me."
Song's jaw flexed.
"Look, son, nobody forced you to do this. Your age was just an advantage. I can step in and handle this mission myself if you want."
Ukraine let out a heavy breath.
There it was.
The real motive.
"You all sat down and agreed to assign this to me. I can do it. It's not even been a month yet, so what exactly is the problem?"
"It's the way you're acting that doesn't convince me."
Ukraine frowned, "Acting like what?"
"Like deep down, you don't want to do this."
For a second, the room fell still.
Ukraine looked at his father and finally saw what had been waiting underneath all the questions.
Song liked Kro.
Or worse—he was already attached to the idea of her. And now he wanted Ukraine out of the way.
That realization settled bitterly in Ukraine's chest. He finished the rest of his whisky in one swallow and set the glass down.
"Next time," he said as he rose, "text me when Grandma and Grandpa are actually here. I think that'll be better."
Then he turned toward the door.
"I'm leaving. Goodnight."
Song said nothing.
Ukraine walked out without another glance.
The door shut.
And inside the house, Song slammed his fist into the sofa.
He was already furious.
Ukraine was not taking the hint.
"If that's the case," he muttered darkly to the empty room, "then I'll do it myself, son."
This time, he was determined not to miss his chance.
...
Mall
Today, Misaki was Krosmetics' undercover detective.
No badge.
No ID.
No company tag.
Just a young woman drifting from one cosmetics shop to the next, studying products, watching customer behavior, comparing prices, testing presentations. It was field research disguised as shopping, and she loved every second of it.
She had one last stop before she could call the mission complete and reward herself with a snack.
Inside the final shop, she went straight to the lipstick sample stand.
Too many colors.
Too many beautiful choices.
She picked up one, then another, then another, squinting at her reflection in the mirror as she tried to decide.
Dark tomato red or plum pink?
She was still debating when a male voice spoke from behind her.
"Red."
Misaki didn't turn at once.
There was a mirror in front of her, and the reflection already told her who it was.
Leo.
"Oh, hi, Leo."
The brightness in her voice made him smile at once.
He stepped beside her, hands in his pockets, looking very pleased with himself.
"Are you even a lipstick expert?" Misaki teased.
"I'm not," he said, "but I can absolutely guess which one will suit you."
"And what would that be?"
"Red," he repeated.
Misaki narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
"Let's see."
She pulled the tester from the stand, twisted it up, and applied it to her lower lip. She was in love before she even finished. By the time she pressed her lips together and spread the color fully, she was already smiling at her reflection.
She turned to look at Leo.
"What do you think? Personally, I love it."
Leo gave a proud little nod, thumbs up and all.
"Should I quit being a lecturer and become a lipstick recommender? Because I did a perfect job."
Misaki laughed, "You're just lucky this time. Let me go pay for it."
"Take your time."
She went to the counter, bought the lipstick, and came back to find him still waiting in the exact spot she'd left him.
"Let's go, my obedient—"
"Friend?" Leo interrupted hopefully.
Misaki grinned, "No. I was going to say lipstick god."
"That's crazy."
They left the shop together.
By the time they reached the parking lot, Leo had learned that she was still technically working.
"I'm a detective today," she said proudly.
Leo stared at the shopping bag in her hand.
"You bought lipstick from another brand while working for Krosmetis. Isn't that treason?"
Misaki clutched the bag dramatically.
"It's research. And it's the first non-Krosmetics product I've used."
Leo laughed.
"So you're a Krosmetics-holic."
"Yes, I am."
"Kro would be proud of you."
"I know, right?"
They reached her car.
"This is me," she said, patting the trunk lightly.
Leo nodded. "It was nice running into you."
"Same here. Thanks for choosing my lipstick. I'll use it well."
"I know you will."
She waved, got into her car, and drove off.
Leo stood there a little longer than necessary, watching the space she had left behind.
There were many things he still did not understand about Misaki.
But one thing was already very clear.
He wanted to see her again.
...
Krosmetics Headquarters
Kro walked into the office humming.
It was not a tune Ukraine recognized. It was light, soft, almost playful—and so completely out of place coming from her that it unsettled him immediately. She must have just returned from a meeting, and judging by that mysterious humming, it had gone very well.
The first place her eyes went when she entered was his desk.
She wanted to see whether he was there.
He was.
Ukraine assumed she would ignore him and return to her own desk.
Instead, she started walking directly toward him.
Still humming.
And somehow the sound became more unnerving the closer she got.
His imagination instantly betrayed him.
Was she in a good mood because someone died?
Did she discover something?
Was she about to fire him?
Sacrifice him?
Curse him?
He barely had time to spiral before Kro stopped at his desk and tapped it once with her knuckles.
Ukraine nearly jumped out of his chair.
Kro let out a very cheesy scoff, "What were you imagining?"
"N-nothing," he stammered.
"I see."
She slid a few books aside and sat on the edge of his desk, right in the empty space.
Ukraine swallowed hard.
She was far too close.
Every time she tried to make him comfortable, she somehow made him more nervous instead. She had shown him sharpness, calmness, grief, amusement, anger—and all of it had only made him more uncertain of where he stood.
Kro looked at him carefully.
"Why are you so scared of me?"
"I'm not scared of you, boss."
"Yes, you are."
Without breaking eye contact, she stretched her hand out toward him, "Hold my hand."
Ukraine blinked, "Why, boss?"
"Just do it."
He hesitated only a moment before obeying.
The instant he touched her hand, his expression changed.
Warm.
Her hand was warm.
Not cold. Not corpse-like. Not unnaturally icy.
Warm. Perfectly normal.
Ukraine looked up at her in shock.
Kro's lips curved faintly.
"I have good news for you."
He said nothing.
"Next week, interviews for my new personal assistant will be conducted. So this might be the last week we work together."
That should have been good news.
That should have relieved him.
Instead, something in his chest dipped strangely.
He lifted his head and met her gaze fully.
She was smiling.
He wasn't.
"You're glad, right?" she asked.
"I… don't know."
And he didn't.
The confusion was plain on his face.
Kro's smile sharpened just slightly.
"Now for the bad news. We're having dinner tonight."
Then, teasingly—"Unless you have another date with Mis—"
"No," Ukraine cut in instantly. "I'm totally free. Let's go."
Kro raised a brow, "Are you sure you won't run away like you did that Monday?"
He gave her an embarrassed smile, "No. I won't."
"Then it's settled. Let go of my hand now."
He had not realized he was still holding it.
He began to withdraw his hand—
And the office door swung open.
The secretary stepped inside.
All attention turned to her.
Kro remained seated on Ukraine's desk, entirely unbothered.
"Boss," the secretary said, "there's someone here to see you."
"Sure," Kro replied.
The secretary stepped aside.
And then the guest walked in.
Ukraine's heart dropped.
His eyes widened so suddenly it almost hurt.
Song.
No one else in the room knew who he was.
No one—
Except Ukraine.
Because the man standing in the doorway, composed and determined, was his father.
***