31.8.2049 Seoul, Gangnam-gu, SHA, Chief’s office

  “Are you two out of your mind!?” Chief Han yelled as she slammed a stack of documents onto her desk. “Do you think the Secondary Gender Act is a joke? We already have political pressure over its enforcement, and we are doing everything we can to follow it. What do you think would happen if people found out about you two? I don’t want to lose either of you to your stupid decisions.”

  Yoon Taeha shook his head, already sinking into himself, while Kang Jeonhyun remained expressionless as always.

  “Do you not understand the severity of the situation? What would have happened if you had gone into a frenzy or pheromone shock again? I can’t protect you twice!” She directed this at Kang Jeonhyun, knowing well that what happened to Yoon Taeha hadn’t been intentional. Still, he finally lifted his gaze.

  “Chief, I know we were ordered not to stay close to each other, and yes, meeting at the bar was stupid on both our parts, but it was about meeting the team—” Yoon Taeha began, then waved it off. “Never mind that. What I mean is… if the Second Lieutenant hadn’t been there, who would have saved me?”

  Kang Jeonhyun turned to him at that, surprised by the genuine gratitude in his voice, something he hadn’t expected in the slightest.

  After the shock Yoon Taeha had suffered from the previous night’s events, Kang Jeonhyun had carried him to the Association’s car and left him in their care, doing his best not to defy orders any further. He understood, however, that showering Yoon Taeha with his pheromones at that moment had been wrong, deeply wrong by the Act’s standards. Yoon Taeha hadn’t been in the right state of mind to accept or refuse them. And yet… he hadn’t seemed to mind. Chief Han sat down, covering her face with her hands.

  “No matter how heroic his act was, he could have called for help instead of emitting pheromones in your presence.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am… I was in no state to refuse help. Even if it was from him.” Yoon Taeha’s expression shifted into something far more serious. He glanced at Kang Jeonhyun once before turning back to the Chief. “I would rather have the living daylight beaten out of me than be raped. But even if that was going to happen, I’d rather he was the one to do it than those unregistered bastards.” The blunt honesty hung heavily in the room.

  And when the memory of Kang Jeonhyun’s arms wrapped around him surfaced, warm and protective, Yoon Taeha’s ears turned bright red.

  Chief Han remained silent for a moment, then looked at Kang Jeonhyun, whose nails were now digging into his palms. His expression was something she had never seen before. It was neither anger, nor anything close to joy. It looked almost like… embarrassment. A reaction she never thought she’d see from this man.

  “And! I’m not done. We’re supposed to be teammates. How does the Association expect us to stay apart constantly? It makes absolutely no sense that we can only meet during missions while I’m free to be around everyone else.” Yoon Taeha crossed his arms, frustration sharpening his tone. “Give me suppressants then. I know the alpha hunters use them, so inject me with it too.”

  “How did you even know where he was?” Chief Han asked.

  “We drifted apart after leaving the bar, so I…” Kang Jeonhyun swallowed. “I went looking for him.” He left unmentioned that he had sensed the hostile alpha pheromones tangled with Yoon Taeha’s, pheromones far too familiar to ignore.

  “Lieutenant Kang,” Chief Han began, “do you believe you can control yourself if the situation arises again?”

  Kang Jeonhyun’s thoughts were spiraling. It was difficult to answer. He didn’t know what triggered him every time he was near this person. It could have been hate. It could have been something else entirely.

  He felt a kick to his ankle and turned his head. Yoon Taeha smiled at him.

  “I know he can. I trust him,” he said on the man’s behalf.

  It was the last thing Kang Jeonhyun had expected Yoon Taeha to say. The trust was not mutual, not yet, and he didn’t even know if Yoon Taeha was telling the truth or simply saying it out of convenience. And yet… the words seemed to ease Han Seri’s mind, even just a little. Somehow, he too wanted to believe there was at least a fragment of truth in what Yoon Taeha had said. So he nodded, agreeing with him. His mask was cracking.

  “Fine,” Chief Han said, “but Lieutenant Yoon, I will have you sign a waiver relieving the Association of responsibility in case your pheromones clash again. And I’m banning you from entering any S-class gates and A-class Jujak gates.”

  “I have absolutely no problem with that, Chief,” Yoon Taeha said with a wide, overjoyed smile.

  “Still, I’m concerned.” Chief Han exhaled; her brows furrowed. “You might be a C-class hunter, but you exceed S-class as a soldier. How were you overpowered to this extent?” There was something else in her voice now, a slight hesitation, doubt. As if she was questioning whether bringing Yoon Taeha back into the forces had been the right decision after all.

  Yoon Taeha stiffened. He couldn’t tell her that fighting back properly would have risked exposing his reawakening. It had simply been easier to let things happen, to heal later, than to let the truth slip out. He only managed a quiet stutter, unable to form an answer, until Kang Jeonhyun interrupted.

  “Chief,” he said with a steady voice, “even someone of your station should understand that when a human being is under threat of being raped, they freeze. And if the person is an omega, their pheromones might not let them fight. Even if they’re hunters.”

  At that moment, Yoon Taeha wanted nothing more than to reach out and pat the man’s back for defending him. Kang Jeonhyun might have been incredibly nonchalant when it came to him, cold even, but even he had stepped in on his behalf when it mattered.

  I better give him a break from all the teasing, Yoon Taeha thought.

  “Do get a health check and talk to your sister about the suppressant shots,” Chief Han said, offering no further reply to the Second Lieutenant’s comment.

  The two men left the Chief’s office and walked down the hallway together. Their steps echoed in the empty corridor, the silence between uneasy. Yoon Taeha stopped first.

  “Lieutenant Kang,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

  Kang Jeonhyun paused mid-step but didn’t turn immediately. When he finally did, his expression was as unreadable as always.

  “It’s not like I did anything that anyone else wouldn’t do,” he replied. Yoon Taeha let out a nervous laugh.

  “Well… if someone hated me the way you do, I don’t think they would have saved me.”

  Something flickered across Kang Jeonhyun’s face. It was difficult to tell whether it was annoyance or guilt. His jaw tightened, as if he were fighting himself. He didn’t know whether to scold Yoon Taeha’s recklessness or tell him that none of what happened had been his fault. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence between them. Kang Jeonhyun looked away first.

  “Just be careful.” He spoke. Adding nothing more, he turned and continued down the hallway without waiting for a reply with his shoulders stiff.

  Yoon Taeha watched his back retreating, a sigh slipping out of him. He couldn’t tell if the man was pushing him away or pulling him in without realizing it.

  31.08.2049 Seoul, Gangnam-gu, Apgujeong-dong, Heritage Court Apartments

  Kang Jeonhyun unlocked the door to his apartment, the beeping sound from his finger pressing the door sensor echoing in the quiet hallway. He took his shoes off at the marble entryway and stepped inside. The interior was minimalistic, fitting the man perfectly. The windows were wide, overlooking the Han River.

  A two-bedroom unit, tasteful and expensive, with nothing out of place. Except him.

  He let his uniform jacket slip onto the arm of the couch before dropping onto it himself. It felt as though gravity had dropped as he sank into the cushions. He kept wondering why everything was always a constant fight with himself. Pressing a hand to his forehead, eyes closing, his thoughts spiraled. Had he been too quick to judge Yoon Taeha? Maybe he had been clinging to the certainty that Yoon Taeha was the reason for what happened in the Jujak-gate. Someone had to carry that blame. It had to be him.

  The man refused to speak about the incident. And for Kang Jeonhyun, information was everything. If he could just get Yoon Taeha to trust him, then maybe, just maybe, the truth would finally reveal itself. Would YoonTaeha confide in him? Would Kang Jeonhyun then finally understand what really happened? But then again, what reason had he given Yoon Taeha to really trust him?

  He had even debated telling Yoon Taeha why he needed the information so desperately, but trust didn’t come easily for him. And yet, how could he expect the man to trust him if he offered nothing in return? He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head toward the ceiling. The room felt too empty, too silent.

  After Yoon Taeha defended him to the Chief, the feeling of hatred had started to become a burden. It didn’t feel righteous anymore.

  His team had always respected him, but that was different. They admired him, they joked with him, but none of them were close to him, by his own choice. He’d turned down countless invitations to go out, unable to see himself as one of them. He admired their lack of hierarchy, their casual camaraderie, but he was never a part of it. Work was work. People were people. And he didn’t let people in.

  Yet now, a new figure had forced his way into his life, and Kang Jeonhyun had absolutely no idea what to do with the feelings that came attached. It was a mix of confusion, a strange kind of guilt, and an unwanted protectiveness. There was something more, something he didn’t want to consider a possibility.

  Maybe it wasn’t hatred he had felt. Maybe he hated the gap between the man and the truth. It felt as if part of the reason he wanted the truth was so he could finally stop hating Yoon Taeha.

  01.09.2049 Seoul, Gangnam-gu, SHA Headquarters, Lounge

  Yoon Taeha stepped into the Special Ops lounge area, where only Lee Hyunwoo was waiting, staying still, quietly browsing his phone. He turned and gave Yoon Taeha a small nod. Yoon Taeha still didn’t know how to communicate with him, so he just sat next to him, uncomfortable and awkward. They sat like that for ten minutes before someone finally came in.

  Oh, thank god, Yoon Taeha thought as the door opened.

  The alpha with long golden hair ran toward Yoon Taeha and grabbed him in his arms. It was as if a golden retriever had scooped up a fox. He brushed Yoon Taeha’s red hair from his face, revealing a slight blush as Yoon Taeha looked up at Kim Jaeseong’s face.

  “How are you this cute?” he smiled at Yoon Taeha. He didn’t reply at first, but when he saw Kang Jeonhyun walk in, he couldn’t resist.

  “I don’t look cute for just anyone.” He smiled back.

  Kim Jaeseong was quick to realize what Yoon Taeha was doing, and he had no problem playing the game with him. He enjoyed teasing Kang Jeonhyun as much as Yoon Taeha did, so he spun Taeha around and grabbed his waist as if they were dancing.

  A hand landed on his wrist in an instant.

  “Stop playing around, we have a mission,” Kang Jeonhyun said, his eyes serious as his watch glowed black. Choi Yoonsun’s grin widened as he looked at his own watch. Yoon Taeha, however, leaned in to see Kim Jaeseong’s.

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  “I don’t have my own watch yet,” he said, looking directly into the Sergeant’s eyes.

  “You poor baby,” he replied and hugged the much shorter hunter. “It’s just a Hyeonmu-gate, it’ll be easy,” Kim Jaeseong continued.

  “Oh, but this one is special,” Choi Yoonsun interrupted. “This Hyeonmu-gate is A-class.” The man looked even more excited. “Last time, they took half of the A2-team out.”

  A strange thing to be excited about, but okay… Yoon Taeha thought.

  “Honestly, that was the Association’s fault for sending the weaker A-team…” Park Minjae whispered under his breath. The twins nodded their heads in agreement.

  The black gates, although usually easy for him, were Choi Yoonsun’s favorite ones. White tigers required speed, blue dragons required flexibility, but the black tortoises required pure strength. The black tortoise was slow but incredibly strong, making Choi Yoonsun the perfect hunter to take them down. He was glowing with excitement, eager to get going.

  Yoon Taeha was surprisingly calm, considering this was his first official mission. Last time he had just been trespassing.

  “Did you get permission to go?” Kang Jeonhyun asked, looking at Yoon Taeha with a cold expression.

  He was still under surveillance, so for every mission he first had to send a permission request to the higher-ups through his monitor. The message that popped up right after stung his pride.

  CLEARANCE CONFIRMED – TEMPORARY ACCESS

  “Temporary, my ass. How do they expect me to go on missions while asking permission every time,” he muttered, quietly enough that only Kim Jaeseong beside him heard it.

  He continued checking his inventory. He looked at the uniform on the monitor and recalled how the peacekeeper at the Baekho-gate had called him old-fashioned. It didn’t sit very well with Yoon Taeha. He might have been in a coma for the past ten years, but the last thing he wanted to feel like was old.

  He stepped closer to Kim Jaeseong and whispered something into his ear. The alpha’s smile widened. He grabbed Yoon Taeha by the wrist, and they ran out of the lounge.

  “What the hell?” Choi Yoonsun said, confused, but not as confused as the Second Lieutenant next to him.

  “We didn’t have to run, you know,” Yoon Taeha said to Kim Jaeseong once they reached the equipment room.

  “It was you who asked me to take you here,” he laughed. “And wasn’t it worth seeing his face like that?”

  “Oh, one hundred percent it was. But I do really need a new uniform.” Yoon Taeha rubbed his chin.

  “No problem. I’ll add the winter uniform to your inventory, but let’s get you the basics. Do you prefer loose or tight fit?”

  “Tight.”

  “Sneakers or combat boots?”

  “Combat.”

  “Gloves?”

  “Combat fingerless. I’m useless as a hunter, so I need something I can handle a gun with.” Yoon Taeha scratched his head, slightly nervous.

  “Don’t say that. You never know when your skills will be needed. Even your secret ones,” Kim Jaeseong said, looking away from him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yoon Taeha’s face became serious for a moment.

  “Neither do I,” Kim Jaeseong lied. He helped Yoon Taeha into his new uniform, explaining what qualities had been added when the models were switched. He gently adjusted the chest straps from behind.

  Yoon Taeha could smell the man’s pheromones. They were faint, suppressed, but sweet. The scent reminded him of a warm spring day, and it made him let out a light chuckle. Kim Jaeseong pretended not to notice.

  Yoon Taeha stepped into the lounge right behind Kim Jaeseong, wearing his new uniform. He finally looked like a proper hunter.

  “One thing’s missing.” Choi Yoonsun stepped closer and slapped his shoulder. Yoon Taeha turned his head to see the Special Ops patch stuck to his sleeve.

  “Welcome to the gang!” The bear-like man grinned as he crossed his arms. There was a bittersweet feeling to it. Yoon Taeha smiled gently at the gesture, but belonging to a team now also meant responsibility for others, and the danger of attachment. He had left his first team back in the North, and the next one had been with him in the Jujak-gate. Both separations painful, especially the latter.

  Looking at these hunters, he knew that they didn’t need him; they were stronger than any of his team members before. Still, there was an uneasiness crawling in, distracting Yoon Taeha.

  Kim Jaeseong took Yoon Taeha’s hand as they walked out of the Association headquarters, as if he were a little child. He would have yanked his hand away if it wasn’t for Kang Jeonhyun’s expression, which gave him an odd feeling of satisfaction. He had told himself he’d cut the teasing, but it had proven impossible. It was too much fun, and Kim Jaeseong was playing the game with him.

  01.09.2049 Hanam, Pungsan-dong, Black gate

  It had been a long time since Yoon Taeha had last seen a Hyeonmu-gate. Although white, blue, or red gates also released beasts, it was almost never the case with the black ones. The tortoises were too slow. That’s why black gates were considered the easiest. This was, however, the first A-class Hyeonmu-gate Yoon Taeha was going into, and it was difficult to know what to expect. What was it that made it A-class?

  Gate Resonance Meters measured the intensity of opening gates even before hunters had to step inside. This way, teams could prepare properly for their entrance. Ten years ago, the system hadn’t been nearly as good nor as accurate as it was now, one of the reasons for the tragedy of the Jujak-gate.

  Yoon Taeha stopped in his tracks for a moment, remembering how on his last mission the Association manager had told them to enter a B-class Jujak-gate. The hunters had rushed in, thinking it was an easy kill, and rushed straight to their deaths.

  “This is a GRI-7.2, Hyeonmu, A-class gate,” the Association manager said on location, snapping Yoon Taeha out of his thoughts. GRI stood for Gate Resonance Intensity.

  The assistants made sure the hunters’ equipment was all in place, inspecting their protective gear and even making them sip water before stepping in.

  A faint smile tugged at Yoon Taeha’s lip, remembering how it had never been like this before. All responsibility had always fallen on the hunter teams; they never had assistants. Then again, this kind of service could have been reserved for Special Ops only.

  “Is that the coma omega? Why is he deployed?” Yoon Taeha overheard someone say in the crowd behind him. He knew his case was special, and he pretended not to hear. To his surprise, Kang Jeonhyun snapped a sharp glare at the whisperer, as if defending him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want back-up?” the manager asked, turning to the Second Lieutenant. Kang Jeonhyun turned away from the situation. He didn’t answer the manager; instead, he started walking toward the gate, waving for the rest to follow him. Yoon Taeha took a deep breath before entering the black gate.

  Unknown time, Hyeonmu-gate, Moraeji

  It was not much different from the Baekho-dungeon had been. The wind was similar, only the frozen breeze had been replaced by a choking sandstorm. Yoon Taeha pulled his goggles out of the monitor and slipped them on. A pang of nostalgia struck him when the heat monitors popped open inside the lenses, outlining movement beneath the dunes in glowing streaks.

  “Fourteen hundred, approx forty meters, two meters tall, three meters wide!” he yelled over the howling sand as something massive approached. Kang Jeonhyun didn’t hesitate. A wave of wind blasted from his palm, slicing a path through the storm until it struck something with a thud. A black figure with a poison-green shell rose from the dunes.

  “Ready to see my Titan Surge?” Choi Yoonsun asked, pulling off his goggles.

  “Godspeed,” Yoon Taeha grinned.

  Choi Yoonsun planted his feet, aura glowing bright orange. Sand skittered away from him. His veins swelled under his uniform, his eyes burning the same flaming orange. Then he vanished, surging forward. In the next instant, he slammed onto the tortoise’s shell, fingers digging in. One monstrous burst of strength, and the shell cracked, splitting clean under his grip. He leaped upward and dropped a heel onto its neck with an axe-like kick. The beast collapsed instantly.

  Yoon Taeha clapped, half-laughing, half impressed. No wonder these people were Special Ops. Movement flickered on his head-up display. Five more figures. He pulled the HAVOC from his monitor just as Park Minjae shouted coordinates.

  “0900! 1100! 1200! 1500! 1600!”

  Choi Yoonsun was already tearing through another tortoise. The twins surged forward next, splitting directions in perfect sync. Their strikes weren’t strong individually, but together they were precise; one of the tortoises practically exploded beneath them.

  Yoon Taeha dropped to the sand, shooting the legs of the incoming beasts with calculated precision. Each hit staggered their charge, slowing them for the others to finish.

  Lee Hyunwoo stood there, fingers pressed to his temples as he guarded their backs. His eyes widened as his sound waves detected more approaching. No, not more. Just one. One with the strength of many. He turned to Kang Jeonhyun without a word. He didn’t need to hear anything to understand.

  Kang Jeonhyun clenched his jaw. “I’ll drag him out. Lieutenant, weaken its stance.” He shot a sharp look at Kim Jaeseong. “Sergeant, you’re with me.”

  “With pleasure.” Kim Jaeseong cracked his knuckles, dimensional split portals flickering like shards of glass around him.

  “Corporal, be my eyes, will you?” Yoon Taeha asked. Park Minjae dropped beside him immediately.

  “On it.” The windstorm blurred everything, but Park Minjae read the terrain with perfect clarity, calling out coordinates before Yoon Taeha even aimed.

  Yoon Taeha set the HAVOC down beside him, switching it out for the heavier HX-9 stored in his monitor.

  “Will your gun shoot so far?” Park Minjae asked. Yoon Taeha braced the HX-9 Hydra Launcher on his shoulder.

  “Please, this is my favorite weapon. There’s nothing this baby can’t reach,” he laughed, firing the first shot.

  “Three meters left, fire now!”

  The Hydra round split mid-air, bursting against the sand and forcing Hyunmu into view. Its shell glowed, cracked with veins of toxic light.

  Although a strong weapon, every Hydra round was slow to recharge, since the launcher didn’t hold magazines like the HAVOC did. Yoon Taeha, however, was not a beginner. Park Minjae admired the man beside him with every launch.

  “I’m so glad you’re with us,” he said. “You’re so cool.”

  Ahead of them, Kang Jeonhyun launched shot after shot, knocking the guardian slightly off balance. Kim Jaeseong’s dimensional splits opened near its weak spots, delivering spinning kicks that dented the shell plates.

  Choi Yoonsun joined them and wiped sand from his face.

  “Hyunwoo,” he called, “send the Sergeant a signal I’m coming in.”

  Yoon Taeha blinked. There’s no way he read that from Yoonsun’s lips.

  But Hyunwoo tapped his temple and sent a pulse; Kim Jaeseong lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

  “Good to go!” Park Minjae shouted.

  “Lieutenant Yoon, cover me,” Choi Yoonsun said.

  “You didn’t have to ask.” Yoon Taeha tightened his grip, firing round after round as Park Minjae directed his aim. Each impact forced the massive tortoise back, exposing its neck.

  Choi Yoonsun surged past them in a blur of orange light, landing on the guardian’s neck, fingers clawing into its armor. His grip tightened, and the cracking sound echoed across the entire desert. The creature crumpled beneath him.

  Yoon Taeha exhaled, letting his weapon lower. Sweat ran down his temple, but excitement burned through him. His new team hadn’t even broken a sweat. And this was supposed to be A-class. Yoon Taeha had forgotten what it felt like to belong.

  A blast of wind shot past him. Kang Jeonhyun flew back.

  “Hyunwoo, can you locate the core?” He barked.

  Lee Hyunwoo nodded. He closed his eyes again, fingers to his temples. A pulse of sound radiated across the dunes, then another. He turned slowly, pointing toward the direction the smaller tortoises had emerged from, and then downward. The core was underground.

  “We have around ten minutes before the gate closes. We don’t want this to open again, so let’s move.” Kang Jeonhyun was already off his feet.

  “You guys stay close to the gate. I’ll bring everyone back.” Kim Jaeseong’s gaze shifted to Yoon Taeha and the other long-distance fighters.

  “9 minutes left.” Park Minjae looked at his watch. Yoon Taeha was left gritting his teeth, feeling the weight of the countdown. And the memory of his last mission. He kept convincing himself that this time, no one was dying.

  Yoon Taeha stood in front of the glowing black gate that looked like the doorway to hell, except it was their portal to go home. He kept his weapon raised in case any more tortoises appeared, though they wouldn’t. The guardian was down now. He lowered his gun but wasn’t prepared to let go of it yet; on the contrary, his grip tightened.

  He removed his goggles as the sandstorm calmed a little, but that didn’t help him. The calm sands were more unnerving than the chaos. He looked at Lee Hyunwoo, who was sending sound waves with furrowed brows, as if he knew something but wasn’t saying it. Yoon Taeha stared at him, almost believing that if he focused hard enough, Hyunwoo would finally speak. But no words came. No signs.

  Park Minjae checked his watch, mouthing every minute as they passed.

  “Seven minutes.”

  “Eight minutes.”

  Each number felt like a weight.

  Yoon Taeha stood there, biting his thumbnail, his red hair whipping in the wind. Kang Jeonhyun’s expression before entering the cave had burned itself onto his retina. Calm, but intense. The memory hit him harder than he expected, tightening his chest.

  “You’re too handsome to go down like this… but I’m only saying that because I’m panicking,” he muttered. Park Minjae stared at him, confused. Yoon Taeha noticed and immediately coughed, looking away.

  Lee Hyunwoo suddenly moved, and all of them felt the ground tremble beneath their feet.

  “Fuck! The gate is closing.” Yoon Taeha looked around desperately, waiting to see them return, but there was nothing.

  “Nine-forty-five… nine-forty-six… fuck, we need to go,” Park Minjae hissed.

  “I’m not going without him.” Taeha’s heartbeat was loud now, painful. Park Minjae took a step toward the gate, preparing to jump in.

  Taeha whispered, barely audible, “Come on… come back…”

  “Nine-fifty-seven…” Park Minjae’s voice cracked as he reached the edge.

  Then a violent tear of blue light sliced the sandstorm open. Kim Jaeseong’s dimensional split erupted in front of them. He stumbled out first, dragging Choi Yoonsun by the arm.

  Kang Jeonhyun burst out of the portal on a sharp wind current he’d created, heading straight for Yoon Taeha. He reached him in an instant, grabbing him and pulling him into his arms almost instinctively, before the man had the chance to react to his return.

  With everyone out, the gate collapsed.

  01.09.2049 Hanam, Pungsan-dong

  Kang Jeonhyun let Yoon Taeha down. Yoon Taeha didn’t look at the Second Lieutenant. Instead, he grabbed his collar, and rather than asking if he was okay, he blurted the first thing that came to his panicked mind.

  “You took your sweet time. Did you stop for snacks?”

  His hand trembled slightly. His heart pounded. His voice cracked.

  A hand landed on his head. Yoon Taeha looked up. For a split second, there was something, an emotion, behind Kang Jeonhyun’s usually unreadable expression, but Yoon Taeha couldn’t tell for sure.

  Kang Jeonhyun didn’t push him away. But Kim Jaeseong grabbed Taeha from behind and pulled him into a hug.

  “Did you miss me?” he laughed, kissing Taeha’s cheek.

  “What took you so long?” Yoon Taeha punched the man’s head despite being much shorter, his strange way of expressing fear and relief tangled together.

  Kang Jeonhyun looked down at the hand that had just been patting Yoon Taeha’s red hair seconds earlier.

  “I’m sorry, babe. It took us a bit to find the core,” Kim Jaeseong teased.

  “Nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Not bad,” Choi Yoonsun said proudly, still catching his breath.

  “HYUNG, THAT IS NOT ‘NOT BAD!’” Park Minjae barked, slamming a hand onto Yoonsun’s back repeatedly. The twins high-fived, and Lee Hyunwoo looked exactly the same as always.

  “All in all, we could say this was a good day,” Kim Jaeseong said, laughing.

  “Fuck off,” Yoon Taeha replied, but smiled lightly. The pressure in his chest finally loosened. He looked at Kang Jeonhyun in front of him, their eyes meeting.

  Yoon Taeha mouthed, silently: “Welcome back.”