"Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... and one hundred!"
Hauen clapped her hands, her voice echoing through the warm, sunlit room. "Yeah! Well done, teddy bear!" she cheered with a bright smile.
Suho smiled and gently sat back in his wheelchair, using the wall for support. "That was exhausting," he sighed, catching his breath. His breathing was heavy, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
Hauen walked over to him, smiling with that familiar mix of pride and teasing that always made him feel light. "Worth it, husband," she said, handing him an energy drink the doctor had prescribed.
He took it with a small chuckle. "Yeah... now I feel like I can actually walk again."
"And you did," she said proudly, patting his shoulder.
His eyes fell to her hand, the one with the fading bandage. The once-deep wound had nearly healed, leaving behind only a faint scar. Still, the sight made something twist in his chest.
"Don't stress your hand," he said softly, his voice full of concern.
She waved him off. "It's almost healed. I don't feel any pain anymore."
"Still," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the mark. "The wound looks scary."
She laughed lightly, brushing it off. "It's just a healing scar, idiot. It'll fade slowly."
He tilted his head, studying it again with quiet fascination. "No... it looks like the kind that'll stay. Like a faint trace that never really goes away, a reminder of your heroic stunt."
She blinked, then chuckled. "Good then. Every time I see it, I can remind myself that I fought a criminal."
He smiled. "Yeah... It's like a trophy."
Her laughter filled the room again, soft, unguarded, and warm.
"Okay!" she suddenly announced, standing up straight. "It's time for the next round, another hundred steps!"
His eyes widened instantly. "What? So early? It's not even been ten minutes!"
"Doctor said you shouldn't take long breaks," she replied with mock seriousness.
"When did he say that?" he asked, suspicious.
"Yesterday. During the call."
He gasped dramatically. "That's so cruel of him! I'm still recovering, and he's already pushing me into a marathon!"
She crossed her arms, trying to hide her smile. "Stop whining already. You can do it. Come on, stand up."
He pouted, tilting his head like a sulking child. "Five more minutes, please... I'm really tired."
Her expression softened. "Fine. Five minutes. But after that, you're walking a hundred more steps, no excuses."
"Okay..." he mumbled, still pouting.
Hauen giggled. "Stop pouting all the time, teddy bear. That doesn't work on me anymore." She reached out and squeezed his cheeks gently.
He frowned, but the corners of his lips twitched.
"You've lost some weight now," she said, studying him. "Your fluffy cheeks are disappearing slowly."
He grinned, pretending to be proud. "That's good! Thank God, I'm not that teddy bear anymore."
Her smile turned mischievous. "Don't be too confident. Even if you lose weight, I can still see that teddy bear in you, soft, fluffy, adorable... Ah, I can't remove that image from my mind."
He groaned. "Yaa, Kang Hauen! Stop calling me that already. And delete that image from your mind!"
"I can't."
"You can!"
"Nope," she teased, laughing. "The more you protest, the clearer that image gets. And I still have plenty of photos of your teddy bear version in my phone."
He froze. "Yaa..."
Her laughter grew louder.
"Delete those already!" he whined.
"No way. They're the cutest version of you. My personal favorite."
He froze for a second, her words echoing in his chest. The tips of his ears turned pink.
She noticed immediately. "Oh... you're flustered."
"I'm not," he said quickly, looking away.
"You are. Look, your ears turned red."
"That's because I'm angry!" he argued, still avoiding her gaze.
"Oh really?" she teased again, reaching forward to pinch his cheeks once more.
"Stop it!" he whined, but there was no real anger in his voice.
She laughed until her eyes softened.
Then, trying to change the topic, he blurted out, "Okay! Break time's over!"
"Hmm? Already?" she smirked.
"Yes, before you tease me to death," he muttered and began to push himself up, determination flashing in his eyes.
Hauen chuckled softly. "Very determined, huh?"
He pretended not to hear her and took his first careful step. She followed beside him, counting in her calm, steady voice,
"One... two... three..."
And just like that, laughter and determination once again filled the quiet room, as if nothing in the world could shake the gentle rhythm they had built together.
Dark Alley of Gangnam
The night was unusually quiet. The city lights blinked like distant eyes through the mist as Officer Park stood near his car, his gaze fixed on the dark alley across the street. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
"Sir," one of his men whispered through the earpiece, "we traced him to the storage units near the Han River. CCTV shows movement fifteen minutes ago."
Park's eyes narrowed. "Follow him, keep him surrounded. No gunfire unless absolutely necessary. We need him alive."
He ended the call and exhaled, the cold air turning his breath into pale fog. His team had spent the last 48 hours following blurry CCTV footage and scattered eyewitness accounts. Every trace led to dead ends, until tonight.
The man who attacked Suho and Hauen wasn't a random criminal. Every move he made seemed calculated. Officer Park understood that.
He looked toward the distant warehouse complex. The air smelled like rain and rust. "He's here," Park murmured to himself.
The police van behind him hummed softly as a few more officers adjusted their gear. Then, the voice on the radio came again."Sir, we spotted him. The door is partially open."
Park's heartbeat picked up. "Move," he ordered.
Within seconds, flashlights cut through the darkness. Boots echoed against the concrete."Seoul Police! Drop your weapon! and surrender!" someone shouted.
But before they could enter, a shadow darted from the back exit. A tall figure in a black hoodie, face masked, sprinted into the narrow lane between the warehouses.
"Target on the run!" one of the officers shouted on the radio.
Officer Park's instincts kicked in. "Cut him off from the left, Team B, block the main road!"
The chase began.
The suspect ran fast, desperate. Officer Park followed, his feet pounding against the asphalt, the sound of sirens growing closer. Flashlights flickered through the alleyways, beams slicing through fog and dust.
"Stop! Police!"
But the man didn't stop. He vaulted over a pile of crates and pushed through a half-open gate. Officer Park followed, his pulse roaring in his ears.
"Sir, he's heading toward the main road!" an officer shouted through the radio.
"Don't lose him!" Park barked, his voice low but sharp.
The suspect stumbled briefly, clutching something under his jacket, a phone, perhaps, or a small pouch. His movements were frantic, as if he knew the walls were closing in.
The police cars skidded onto the street, blocking his escape. The man looked left, then right. The flashing red-blue lights danced on his masked face.
"Put your hands up!" Park shouted, raising his gun slightly but keeping his finger off the trigger.
The man froze for a second, his chest heaving, eyes darting. Then, without warning, he turned and bolted again, straight across the road.
"Stop! Don't...!"
It happened in a blink.
The screech of tires.A horn is blaring.A blinding flash of headlights.
And then, impact. The truck hit him hard, the sound echoing through the empty street. The man was thrown several feet before crashing onto the wet pavement.
Everything went silent for a moment except for the soft hiss of the truck brakes.
Officer Park froze. His team rushed forward, surrounding the body."Call the paramedics, now!"
But as soon as he saw the blood pooling beneath the man's head, Officer Park knew. He knelt beside him, pressing two fingers to his neck.
No pulse.
The suspect's eyes were half-open, his chest still. The phone he'd been holding lay cracked beside him. Park picked it up carefully, his mind racing.
"Sir," one of the officers said softly, "I think he's gone."
Officer Park's jaw tightened. "Get the forensics team here. Seal the area. Every inch."
He stood up slowly, his gaze fixed on the motionless figure. The man was dead, and with him, possibly, every lead they had.
The ambulance arrived minutes later, its siren wailing through the quiet night. Reporters would soon crowd this street, but right now, there was only the sound of slow rain beginning to fall.
Park stepped back, staring at the shattered phone. Something inside him burned with frustration.
He'd wanted this man alive.
Alive, he could've pointed to the real culprit. The one pulling the strings behind Suho's attack.
Now… the thread had snapped.
He turned to one of his men. "Send the phone straight to digital forensics. No delays."
"Yes, sir."
"And check the pockets. Anything that could tell us where he was hiding."
Minutes later, an officer handed him a small, folded paper found in the suspect's jacket. Park unfolded it carefully; it was half-burned, but a few words were still visible.
'Delivery, Thursday. Penthouse.'
Officer Park's stomach dropped because today was Thursday..