We were back at our place sooner than expected.
Too soon.
The hidden floor felt smaller tonight. The hum of the lights was louder. Even the air felt trapped, like it hadn't decided whether to settle or flee.
Junseo and I sat apart from each other, the space between us heavy with thoughts neither of us wanted to say first.
Junseo broke first.
"That bastard," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "Who gives someone forty-eight hours like that?"
He looked at me, frustration sharp but unfocused. "Who does he think he is?"
He wasn't angry.
Not really.
He was confused—and confusion scared him more than any knife ever could.
I didn't answer immediately.
"It's not like this happens every day," he went on, forcing a laugh that didn't land. "People don't just… show up. Not like that."
Finally, he sighed and asked, quieter this time,
"What do you think, hyung?"
I leaned back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The taste of good liquor still lingered on my tongue—smooth, expensive. It didn't belong to the knot tightening in my chest.
"I don't know," I said. And for once, it wasn't deflection. "Maybe we wait. Maybe we watch."
Junseo frowned. "We still have forty-eight hours."
"Exactly."
Silence crept in again.
My thoughts drifted back to Borislav's eyes. The way he looked at me like the decision was already made. Like hesitation was just a formality.
"We'll meet them," I said suddenly.
Junseo turned sharply. "What?"
"We'll listen," I clarified. "That's all."
He stood up, disbelief written across his face.
"Hyung, did you not feel it? Something about them—about him—was wrong. I don't feel good about this."
"I don't either," I admitted.
That stopped him.
I sat forward now, elbows resting on my knees.
"But we don't get followed for nothing," I continued. "And men like him don't wait unless they're sure we're worth the trouble."
Junseo clenched his jaw. "And if we aren't?"
I looked at the floor.
"Then we'll find out why."
The room fell quiet again.
Outside, the city moved like nothing had changed.
Inside, something had already crossed a line.
And neither of us could pretend we hadn't felt it.