The fluorescent lights of the Sinchon Police Station were blinding, humming with a low-frequency buzz that grated against my raw nerves. Everything felt surreal, as if I were moving through deep water. The smell of the hallway—the iron tang of blood and the sterile scent of floor wax—clung to the back of my throat.
I sat on a hard plastic bench, wrapped in a heavy, scratchy wool blanket an officer had given me. My hands were still shaking. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the door shuddering under Kai's boots. But then, the image would shift to Hanbin.
Hanbin, who had arrived like a silent, vengeful god.
He was sitting a few feet away from me, being questioned by a younger officer. He looked like a stranger. He was still in his thin house slippers and cotton trousers, his chest heaving under a sweat-soaked t-shirt. His knuckles were being cleaned by a female officer; they were raw, split open and bleeding onto a white gauze pad.
He didn't look at the officer. He didn't look at the station. His eyes were fixed on me, dark and intense, as if he were constantly checking my "system status" to ensure I hadn't broken.
"Danoh-ya!"
I looked up. Jeonghan was sprinting through the glass doors of the station. He looked disheveled, his jacket half-zipped, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on us. He didn't go to Hanbin first. He ran straight to me.
"Danoh, are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice frantic. As my same-age friend, his worry felt grounded and familiar. He knelt in front of me, searching my face.
"I'm... I'm okay, Jeonghan," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Hanbin... he got there in time."
Jeonghan exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding for a lifetime. He stood up and turned to Hanbin. The two best friends looked at each other—a long, silent communication that required no words. Jeonghan's expression softened from panic into a grim, protective sort of pride.
"You really did it, didn't you, you crazy bastard?" Jeonghan muttered, walking over to Hanbin.
Hanbin didn't answer. He just looked at my trembling hands. "Get her some warm water," he told Jeonghan. It was the first time he'd spoken since we left the apartment. His voice was a low, sandpaper rasp.
An hour later, the statements were taken. Because Kai had been caught in the act of breaking and entering, and because I had a standing record of his previous harassment, the police were treating it as a serious felony. Kai had been taken to a nearby hospital under guard; Hanbin had hit him hard enough to require stitches and a concussion check.
"The self-defense claim for Jeon Hanbin-ssi is strong," the detective told Jeonghan. "Given the victim's history with the suspect and the immediate threat, the physical force used was... significant, but justified to neutralize the threat."
Jeonghan handled the legal talk, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a sharp, academic coldness. He was an SNU student, after all; he knew how to talk to authority.
When we were finally allowed to leave, the sun was just beginning to hint at the horizon, painting the Seoul sky in shades of pale grey and violet.
"I'll take you both home," Jeonghan said, jingling his car keys.
"No," Hanbin said. He stood up, his movements stiff. "Take her to a hotel. Or your sister's place. She can't go back to that apartment tonight. Not alone."
"My uncle and Doyoon are coming back in a few hours," I said, standing up. The blanket slid off my shoulders. "I... I told them what happened. They're driving back now. They'll meet me at the restaurant."
Hanbin walked over to me. He ignored Jeonghan. He ignored the officers. He stood so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body, despite the chill of the morning. He reached out with his uninjured hand and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were cold, but his touch was incredibly gentle.
"I'll stay with you until they get there," he said.
"Hanbin, your hands..." I reached out, lightly touching the bandage on his knuckles. "You're hurt because of me."
"I'm not hurt," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "The system just had to purge a virus. That's all."
We sat in the back of Jeonghan's car in silence. I leaned my head against Hanbin's shoulder. I didn't care if it was "proper" or if it was too much. I just needed the solid, steady presence of the boy who had run through the streets in his slippers to save me.
As we pulled up to the dark restaurant, I saw my uncle's car screech to a halt. Uncle Dohyun and Doyoon jumped out before the engine had even stopped.
"Danoh! My Danoh!" Uncle cried, pulling me into a crushing hug. Doyoon was right behind him, his face pale and tear-streaked.
Hanbin stepped back, merging into the shadows of the street corner, watching as my family gathered around me. He looked like he was ready to disappear, to become the "Shadow" again.
But Doyoon saw him. My brother walked over to Hanbin, looked at his bloodied bandages and his thin t-shirt, and did something I didn't expect. He bowed—a deep, respectful bow that lasted for a long time.
"Hyung," Doyoon said, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. Thank you for protecting my Noona."
Hanbin stayed silent for a moment. Then, he placed a hand on Doyoon's shoulder. "Take her upstairs. Lock the door. Don't let her be alone for a second."
"I won't, Hyung. I promise."
As I was led toward the stairs, I turned back. Hanbin was standing under the flickering streetlamp, looking exhausted and broken, yet somehow invincible.
"Hanbin!" I called out.
He stopped.
"Thank you for showing up," I said.
He didn't smile. He just gave me that one, slow, certain nod. Then he turned and walked toward Jeonghan's car, fading into the dawn light of Seoul.