The sky was still bruised with the last of the night when Jaemin stepped out of the shadows.
A white shirt wrapped cleanly under his black leather coat, dark pants blending with the dawn mist. A black hat pulled low, mask covering his sharp jaw. He looked like a ghost carved out of moonlight and danger—the kind of ghost no shadow dared to follow.
He stood beneath an abandoned streetlight, watching the horizon smear pale gold.
A quiet voice spoke behind him.
"You're early, Hyung."
Jaemin turned. Dojoon approached with careful steps, glancing around like he expected someone to jump out from the trees.
Their handshake was brief, urgent.
Dojoon lifted a small bag between them.
"These are Noona's clothes. Fresh. And…"
He paused.
"No signs of the shadows after the counter. Completely quiet."
Jaemin's gaze darkened behind his mask.
"Too quiet. They're not gone… just laying low. Law enforcement is tightening the net—they'll avoid movement for now. But they'll return."
Dojoon frowned, the morning chill crawling up his neck.
"You said you were researching something… legends? Something about immortality?"
Jaemin hesitated only a moment before answering.
"The Immortality Stone."
Dojoon blinked. "You can't be serious—"
"I need to know if it exists," Jaemin cut in.
His voice was even, but there was a weight behind it—a private desperation.
"Old myths… talismans that heal the unhealable. Stones that choose their owners. If they exist, we can't let the vipers get it first."
Dojoon exhaled deeply.
"Alright. I'll look into it. I'll update Noona directly if I find anything."
Jaemin nodded.
A single word escaped him—soft, almost pleading.
"Please."
Sunlight filtered through the canopy like scattered shards of gold when Dahlia woke alone.
The space beside her on the bed was cold.
Her heartbeat instantly tightened.
"Jaemin?"
She checked the bathroom.
Empty.
Her breath hitched.
She grabbed her still-damp shorts hanging in the bathroom, slipping them on in a daze. Her fingers trembled as she pushed open the bunker door.
The woods met her with a cold hush.
And her fear broke open.
"Jaemin-ah!"
She ran—barefoot, unthinking—branches whipping at her legs, cold soil bruising her skin. Her lungs tightened as she stumbled over a root and fell hard to the ground.
Tears spilled instantly.
"Don't leave me… not again…"
Her voice cracked into the morning stillness.
While Jaemin trekked through the woods with steady breaths, a bag of food supplies slung over his shoulder. He'd left the ambulance on the highway to avoid trackers—the shadows were still too unpredictable.
But when he approached the bunker, a chill stabbed his spine.
The door was wide open.
Empty.
His pulse snapped into panic.
"Dahlia?"
He ran.
And then he saw her—curled on the cold ground, barefoot, crying into her hands.
"Dahlia!"
He rushed to her, dropping the food bag as he knelt.
Her head shot up at the sound of his voice, eyes swollen, trembling.
"You left…"
Her whisper shattered him.
Jaemin gathered her into his arms immediately, lifting her effortlessly despite her struggling breaths.
"I'm here. I'm here, Dahlia. I would never leave you like that."
He carried her back to the bunker, gripping her as though the wind might steal her.
Inside, he sat her down gently on the couch and lifted her injured foot.
A red scrape was forming across the arch.
"You ran barefoot?"
His voice was tight, controlled—but trembling.
He disinfected the wound and placed a plaster, fingers brushing carefully against her skin.
"Don't ever do that again."
Dahlia's eyes lifted, wet and stubborn.
"Then don't ever leave me again without telling me.
You're not just on your own anymore…"
The words struck straight into him.
And then—
A memory flickered in her eyes.
"Jaemin… do you remember fifteen years ago?
When you wrapped my wounded leg with the scarf I gave you?"
He paused, hands still on her ankle.
She swallowed.
"I still have that scarf. I carry it every day in my bag… even now."
Jaemin's breath stilled.
"Keep it," he murmured.
"I have your necklace. That's enough."
Their eyes met.
And the air warmed around them.
Dahlia leaned close, her lips brushing his ear.
"Jaemin-ah… what we did last night…
can we do it again?"
A soft laugh escaped him—surprised, helpless, warm.
"You're a naughty girl."
He pinched her nose lightly.
She pouted, cheeks pink.
He kissed her—a gentle peck, soft but promising.
"We'll have a lot of time for that if we get through all of this.
For now… take a shower. Then lunch.
These are your clothes from Dojoon."
Dojoon sat at his desk, typing rapidly as he combed through obscure forums, historical archives, and cryptic blogs.
Then he stopped.
A headline:
"The Stone of Eternal Flesh—Myths of Mount Seonghyeol."
He clicked.
It spoke of a sacred stone that granted:
- Accelerated healing
- Bodily protection
- Longevity
But also:
"A price taken from the bearer's fate."
A rough painting appeared—a mountain silhouette under storm clouds.
Mount Seonghyeol.
Dojoon screenshotted everything and sent it to Dahlia instantly.
He barely had time to lean back when—
"Detective Choi, the captain wants to see you."
He stood, fixing his uniform.
When he entered Captain Song's office, his jaw nearly dropped.
He froze.
Beside Captain Song stood a woman he never expected to see again—
Agent Lee Chaerim.
His old university crush.
The cold, brilliant, intimidating girl with a sharp mouth and sharper eyes.
The one everyone used to call:
"Miss Feisty."
She gave him a curt nod, arms crossed in her usual don't-mess-with-me stance.
"Detective Choi," she said.
Her voice was calm, but her gaze sliced like a blade.
"From today, the NIS will be working closely with your unit. I'll be joining your team."
Dojoon swallowed, hard.
"L-Lee Chaerim…?"
Her eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Still stuttering around me, Dojoon?"
A tiny smirk—the same feisty, fearless look he remembered from university.
Captain Song cleared his throat loudly.
"Dojoon, try not to embarrass us in front of Agent Lee.
You two will be partners for this operation."
Dojoon's heart dropped.
Perfect.
His university crush—Miss Feisty herself—was now part of their team.
Back in the Bunker,
Dahlia stepped out after her shower, hair damp and cheeks glowing.
She sat beside Jaemin and opened the food he prepared.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Dojoon.
A screenshot.
The painting of a mountain.
Her eyes widened.
"Jaemin… this painting… I've seen it before."
He leaned closer.
"Where? Try to remember. It could be our only clue."
Dahlia's breath caught.
"Grandma's garden.
There's a painting just like this… hanging on the wall beneath the orchids."
Jaemin stood instantly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Then we need to go back to Hwayang Valley.
If the vipers get the stone first, it's over."
"But you're not healed enough—"
"I'll manage.
And they're laying low right now.
This is our chance."
She reluctantly agreed.
Dahlia texted her P.A., Yujin, to bring her car to the location she pinned.
They arrived quietly.
Mrs. Kim had just left, leaving the garden still and fragrant.
And there, beneath the wild orchids—
the painting.
The same mountain.
Dahlia stepped closer.
But Jaemin tensed.
"Dahlia… step back for a moment."
She blinked but obeyed.
Jaemin knelt, pressing his ear to the soil.
He knocked lightly.
A hollow echo.
His eyes sharpened.
He cleared vines, dug through dirt—
and uncovered a rectangular metal door, old and cold.
Dahlia gasped.
"Another bunker? In grandma's garden? Why?!"
"I'm not sure if it's a bunker…
It's locked."
"How do we open it?"
He searched the surface…
Until he found a keyhole shaped exactly like her pendant.
Jaemin turned to her slowly.
"Dahlia…
I think your pendant is the key."
She froze.
Hands trembling, he lifted the necklace from his neck and inserted the pendant into the keyhole.
Click.
The air shifted.
The metal lid opened.
And inside—
"Dahlia… this isn't a bunker.
It's a chest."
A dusty chest filled with:
- Old scrolls
- Brittle books
- Ancient drawings
- A cracked compass
- A watch locket, a map
- A weathered journal marked CGW
"My great-grandfather…" Dahlia whispered.
Jaemin unrolled a scroll.
A painting of a man in a blue hanbok.
Sharp jaw.
Green eyes.
Name below:
Memoirs of Master Moon Jihwan
Jaemin stilled.
His breath caught.
A memory struck him—
Seo Rin kneeling in front of little Jaemin, holding a picture.
"Jaemin-ah… this is your great-great-grandfather, Moon Jihwan.
Where you got your rare green eyes."
He turned slowly to Dahlia.
Voice soft. Shaken.
"Dahlia…
this man is my mother's great-grandfather."
Silence.
They read through GunWoo's diary.
A sacred realization fell between them.
It wasn't coincidence.
It wasn't chance.
It wasn't luck.
Their ancestors were tied.
Their fates intertwined long before their births.
Dahlia lifted her trembling hand to his cheek.
"So… we were meant to meet.
From the beginning."
Jaemin covered her hand with his own.
"From the very first thread of fate, Dahlia.
We were always going to find each other."