Rain drizzled over the cracked pavement as she dragged her small suitcase down the narrow alley leading to the apartment building. By day, the place looked like nothing more than rows of old, leaning blocks, but at night it seemed wrapped in a dull gray shroud. She walked quickly, guarding her cover with a plain coat and the blank gaze of a stranger.
In her head, the mission checklist repeated itself: blend in, observe, collect. Even after years of undercover work, she reminded herself—stay sharp. Do not let the past blur the target.
And yet, at the very first corner, fate betrayed her.
He appeared.
Stepping out of the shadows, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed simply in a dark shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows. No polished suit, no mask of power like she had imagined. Tonight he looked ordinary, almost casual—and that only made him stand out more. The yellow streetlight carved his features into sharper lines, too familiar to mistake.
Her heart stopped. Not like the calm of a professional officer on duty, but like the fragile, uncontrollable beat of a woman who once gave her whole youth to him.
He saw her. Their eyes locked, a silence stretching like an unfinished song. Then he spoke first, voice steady, casual, as though they were nothing more than acquaintances meeting by chance:
"You're moving in here?"
She lowered her head. Her emotions surged so violently she couldn't trust her own heartbeat. The reply escaped in a dry, careful whisper:
"…Just renting. For work."
A lie. They both knew it.
He chuckled softly, a fleeting smile that cut straight through her chest, stirring the memories she had buried. As he brushed past her, the light touch of his arm burned against her skin, and then he disappeared into the alley's darkness.
Only when she entered her new apartment did she exhale, lungs aching from holding back. But the cruel twist of fate was yet to come. The next morning, when she pulled open the curtains, her eyes landed on the balcony directly across from hers. His.
He was her neighbor.
—
The following days blurred together. To keep her cover, she took a part-time job at the small convenience store below the building. Fluorescent lights, the beeping of scanners, the bell at the door—monotonous, ordinary, yet perfect camouflage. From behind the counter she could watch the street, and sometimes, when the door slid open, she saw him walk past. Their eyes met briefly, his lips curving in the faintest shadow of a smile, and her pulse betrayed her every time.
Each night she wrote reports, encrypting observations and fragments of detail. But not once did she admit the most dangerous truth: that she still felt alive only when he was near.
Then one evening her phone buzzed. The encrypted message from her captain arrived. She unlocked it, eyes scanning the file—and froze.
His face.
Beneath it: Suspect — High rank. Operation: Eclipse. Notes listed his suspected role in the syndicate, evidence under investigation, potential orders given.
The world fell out from under her feet. The air thickened, the convenience store sounds blurred into nothing. She read the lines again, her throat dry, her body trembling against the counter.
The man she once loved.
The man across the hall.
The man who had just become her mission.
That night, as rain tapped against her window and the glow of his balcony lights burned into her vision, she realized she had been pushed onto an impossible edge.
Love or duty.
Protect him—or destroy him.
And no matter which path she chose, the cost would be her heart.