Jay Jay POV 𖨆𖨆
I don't get distracted.
That's something I've always been sure of.
Feelings, impressions, whatever people call it—it doesn't affect how I work. It never has.
So why him?
I leaned back in my chair, eyes still on the file in front of me. Keifer's name sat there, printed neatly, surrounded by notes, timestamps, and observations that refused to fully connect.
Everything about him was… controlled.
Too controlled.
I tapped my pen lightly against the paper.
He was good-looking. That wasn't even debatable. The kind of presence that filled a room without trying. Sharp features, steady eyes, the kind of confidence people either admired… or avoided.
Annoying.
I exhaled quietly, flipping to the next page.
Attractive didn't mean trustworthy.
And it definitely didn't mean innocent.
"Focus," I muttered to myself.
Because that was the problem, wasn't it? Not him. Not really.
It was the way he carried himself. Like nothing could touch him. Like every move he made was already thought out ten steps ahead.
People like that didn't make mistakes.
Or… they didn't get caught making them.
I paused, staring at the timeline again.
9:00 PM — Meeting at Zoren's mansion.
9:15 PM — Movement captured on CCTV.
Statements — Clean. Too clean.
My jaw tightened slightly.
Something about him didn't sit right.
And it had nothing to do with the way he looked.
I shut the folder for a second, letting the silence settle.
Because if I was being honest—completely honest—
Yeah.
He was attractive.
Maybe even more than that.
But that didn't matter.
Not here.
Not in this case.
Not when someone was dead.
I opened the folder again, sharper this time.
No matter how composed he looked… no matter how easily he spoke… no matter how effortless everything about him seemed—
I wasn't going to let that cloud my judgment.
Not for a second.
"Not worth it," I said under my breath.
Not my job.
And definitely not my life.
The words sat heavier than I expected.
Because somewhere in the back of my mind, a quiet voice whispered—
What if it comes down to that?
I stilled.
Then shook it off immediately.
It wouldn't.
It couldn't.
Because when the truth came out—and it always did—
I already knew which side I'd be on.
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Yuris POV ꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟
The building was quieter at this hour.
Most of the lights were off, leaving only the upper floors lit—glass walls reflecting the city like a mirror that never slept. The kind of place built for power, not comfort.
Our floor was nearly empty.
Just the low hum of electricity, distant traffic, and the faint echo of footsteps that didn't belong to anyone else.
Keifer stood near the window in one of the executive offices, the skyline stretching behind him. He didn't look like someone under investigation.
He looked exactly like someone who couldn't be touched.
I leaned against the doorway, watching him for a second longer than necessary.
"You're still here," I said casually.
He didn't turn.
"So are you."
Fair.
I stepped inside anyway, the glass door closing softly behind me. The room smelled faintly of leather and something clean—expensive, controlled. Like everything else tied to him.
"You've been staying late more often," I added, letting my voice stay light. "Work, or just avoiding people?"
Now he glanced over.
"Does it matter?"
I smiled faintly. "Not really."
But I moved closer anyway. Not enough to crowd him—just enough to make the distance noticeable.
The kind of distance people either close… or become aware of.
"You handled the meeting well," I said.
His expression didn't change. "That's expected."
"Of course." I tilted my head slightly. "Everything with you is."
There was a pause.
Not long.
But long enough.
He turned slightly, just enough to face me more directly. His eyes sharpened—not defensive, not nervous… just attentive.
"You're talking like there's a point," he said.
"Maybe there is."
I let the silence stretch a little, watching him. Studying, without making it obvious.
Then—
"People are starting to look closer," I said.
That part was true.
He didn't react the way most people would. No tension, no shift—just a slight stillness, like he was measuring the weight of the words before deciding they meant nothing.
"Let them," he replied.
I smiled again. Smaller this time.
There it was.
That quiet confidence.
That certainty.
It almost made me laugh.
"You're calm," I said. "I'd expect at least a little concern."
"For what?"
"For being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
His gaze held mine. Steady. Unmoved.
"I wasn't."
The answer came clean. Immediate.
Too clean.
I looked at him for a second longer than necessary, then let out a quiet breath, like I was letting it go.
"Right," I said softly.
I stepped past him then, closer to the window, letting the city lights take my attention instead.
But not really.
"I guess some people just don't make mistakes," I added, almost absentmindedly.
Behind me, I could feel his attention shift slightly.
Not suspicion.
Not yet.
Just awareness.
Good.
I turned my head just enough to glance back at him.
"Careful, though," I said, tone light again. "Even perfect things crack eventually."
A beat.
Then—
"Then don't apply pressure," he said.
I let out a quiet laugh at that, shaking my head slightly.
"Relax," I replied, stepping away from the window. "I'm not trying to."
Not in the way he thought, anyway.
I walked toward the door, stopping just briefly as I passed him. Close enough to notice the stillness in his posture.
Close enough to know he noticed mine too.
"You're interesting, Keifer," I said, almost like an afterthought.
Then I opened the door.
"And I don't say that often."
I didn't wait for a response this time.
The hallway was just as quiet as before.
But as the door clicked shut behind me, I let the faintest smile slip through.
Because the truth was—
He really didn't know.
And that made this… a lot more interesting than it should've been.
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