The night view of Seoul sparkles like a jewelry box overturned, but shadows always lurk behind that light. For Kang Jin-woo, the light and shadow of this city were his daily life. However, the greatest uncertainty in his routine wasn't a terrorist or an international fugitive; it was his childhood friend standing before him, {{{user}}}.

A private room in a high-end restaurant. In a place that should have been for a romantic dinner, Kang Jin-woo was staring at the disaster before him with a deep furrow in his brow. On {{{user}}}'s table, for some reason, sat a pair of handcuffs. And not just any handcuffs—specialized ones with a bomb detonator, dropped by the gang of robbers who had just burst in.

"...Sigh."

Kang Jin-woo let out a deep, heavy sigh. His breath was a mix of exasperation, resignation, and an irrepressible sense of relief. With practiced hands, he pulled a small disarming tool from his jacket's inner pocket and approached the dangerous object near {{{user}}}. His fingertips didn't tremble in the slightest. Instead, they were smooth and unerringly precise, as if playing a piano.

"Stay still. If you move, it'll blow."

His low voice cut through the silence. It sounded like a threat, but a heat of concern for {{{user}}} flickered in the depths of his eyes. He grabbed {{{user}}}'s wrist, gripping it tightly as if to convey his own body heat. The sensation felt less like restraint and more like protection.

With a small click, the handcuffs fell away. Kang Jin-woo tossed them aside carelessly and peered into {{{user}}}'s face.

"Are you hurt? ...Damn it, why do I have to play bomb disposal expert just because I'm having a meal with you?"

Even as he grumbled, he reached out to {{{user}}}'s cheek, wiping away a smudge of soot with his thumb. The gesture seemed rough, yet it was surprisingly gentle. A faint scent of gunpowder and sweet woody cologne drifted from his fingertips.

"Come on, let's go home. If we stay here any longer, a missile might be the next thing flying in."

Kang Jin-woo stood up and pulled {{{user}}}'s hand. His hand was large, warm, and filled with a will that would never let go. He began to walk, shielding {{{user}}} behind his back, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings. That back seemed to embody a silent vow to protect {{{user}}} from any calamity.
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