The Safe House
The love motel's neon sign flickered through the thin curtains, painting Haewon's face in alternating shades of pink and blue. She sat cross-legged on the heart-shaped bed, her fingers flying across the keyboard of a stolen laptop. Minjae snored in the corner, his body curled around a pillow like it was the last life preserver on a sinking ship.
I tested the weight of the fire extinguisher I'd taken from the penthouse—our only weapon besides Haewon's sharp tongue. "How long before your father's lawyers get him out?"
She didn't look up. "Seventy-two hours, max. The prosecutors will fold once the board starts threatening to pull investments." A shadow crossed her face. "We need to be gone before then."
The laptop screen reflected in her eyes—financial news sites blaring headlines about the Yoon Corp scandal. I caught glimpses of words like "corruption" and "stock collapse" between the lines of code she was writing.
"What are you—"
"Creating new identities." She finally glanced up, her smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "Turns out Daddy's black market contacts come in handy when you're disowning him."
The printer in the corner whirred to life, spitting out fake IDs. I picked one up—Lee Daeho, age 24, mechanical engineer. The photo was me, but the person in that picture looked like someone who'd never had his life turned inside out.
Minjae groaned awake. "Are we dead yet?"
"Not today," Haewon said, tossing him a driver's license that identified him as *Park Hyunsik, culinary student.*
---
The Escape Plan
We left the motel under cover of darkness, our backpacks stuffed with cash, burner phones, and the last of the vending machine snacks. The streets of Itaewon buzzed with oblivious nightlife—college students spilling out of bars, tourists taking selfies with soju bottles, completely unaware that three of the most wanted people in Seoul walked among them.
Haewon led us to a back-alley garage where a beat-up Hyundai waited. "Stolen?" I asked.
"Borrowed indefinitely." She tossed me the keys. "You're driving."
Minjae clutched his backpack like a lifeline. "Where are we even going?"
"Busan," Haewon said as I started the engine. "Then maybe Jeju. After that... we'll see."
The car stank of old cigarettes and desperation. I caught Haewon's eye in the rearview mirror as we merged onto the highway. For the first time since this nightmare started, she looked... free.
---
The First Close Call
We were two hours south of Seoul when the police checkpoint appeared.
"Shit." I tightened my grip on the wheel. Four cruisers blocked the highway, officers waving cars through one by one.
Haewon leaned forward, her breath warm on my ear. "Don't stop. Take exit 23B—it's coming up in half a kilometer."
"That's a dirt road!" Minjae squeaked.
"Exactly."
I waited until the last possible second, then yanked the wheel right. The Hyundai's tires screeched as we veered onto the exit ramp. Behind us, shouts erupted—then the blinding flash of police lights.
"They're following!" Minjae screamed.
The dirt road turned into a nightmare of potholes and overhanging branches. The car bottomed out with a teeth-rattling crunch, but I kept the pedal floored. Haewon clung to my seatback, her knuckles white.
"There!" She pointed to an abandoned farmhouse. "Lose them in the fields!"
We ditched the car in a cornfield, sprinting through rows of towering stalks as the cops' flashlights cut through the darkness behind us. Haewon's hand found mine, pulling me forward. Minjae wheezed beside us, his glasses fogged with panic.
We collapsed in an irrigation ditch, our chests heaving, as the police lights faded into the distance.
"Well," I gasped, "that was fun."
Haewon smacked my arm, but she was laughing.
---
The Safe House 2.0
The farmhouse was a ruin—rotting floorboards, shattered windows, and the distinct smell of mold and regret. But it had four walls and, miraculously, running water.
Minjae passed out immediately on a pile of musty blankets. Haewon and I took first watch, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the creaky porch as the moon rose over the fields.
"You ever think about just... staying gone?" I asked.
She tilted her head. "Like becoming a farmer?"
"Like becoming no one."
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the chirping of crickets. Then, softly: "Sometimes."
Her pinky finger brushed mine. Neither of us pulled away.
---
The Bounty
At dawn, Minjae's burner phone buzzed with an alert. He paled. "Uh. Guys?"
The screen showed a dark web forum—a grainy photo of our faces beneath the words:
WANTED: 50 MILLION WON EACH
Contact: PJH
Joonho had put a price on our heads.
Haewon's smile was terrifying. "I'm worth twice that."
---
The Road Trip
We hitchhiked the rest of the way to Busan in the back of a produce truck, hidden between crates of overripe strawberries. The sweet, rotting smell clung to our clothes as we watched the countryside roll by.
Minjae picked at a strawberry. "So what's the plan when we get there?"
"Boats," Haewon said. "Lots of boats."
I leaned back against the crate. "You ever been on a boat, princess?"
"How hard can it be?"
The truck hit a pothole, jolting us together. Haewon's head landed on my shoulder. She didn't move it.
---
The Almost-Kiss
The ferry to Jeju was packed with tourists and smelling of salt and diesel. We claimed a spot on the deck, watching Seoul disappear on the horizon.
Minjae had gone to find food, leaving Haewon and me alone at the railing. The sea wind tugged at her hair, pulling strands free from her ponytail. Without thinking, I reached out to tuck one behind her ear.
She went very still.
My hand lingered. The moment stretched—
Then the ferry lurched, throwing her against me. Our lips brushed. Just barely.
We sprang apart.
"Wave," she said quickly.
"Yeah," I agreed, my voice rough. "Big one."
Neither of us looked at each other for the rest of the trip.
---
The Cliffhanger
Jeju at night was all black sand and whispering palms. We'd just stepped off the dock when Haewon's phone buzzed. An unknown number:
>> Turn yourself in or Minjae dies. You have 24 hours. —P.J.H.
Attached was a photo: Minjae, blindfolded, in the trunk of a car.
The timestamp read *5 minutes ago.*
"He wasn't on the ferry," I realized, cold dread pooling in my gut.
Haewon's face hardened. "We're going back."
---
Next Chapter Teaser:
- Hostage Rescue("You don't negotiate with terrorists. You outsmart them.")
- Joonho's Trap(A mansion with too many exits)
- The First Real Kiss (When the stakes are highest)