The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden rays over the bustling streets where Jun-ho stood, a figure of quiet authority in his traffic guard uniform.

The reflective stripes of his vest gleamed as he leaned against the hood of his patrol car, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose. He looked almost bored, yet there was an easy confidence in his posture, the kind that made passersby do a double take.

Just as he was about to settle into another uneventful hour, a beat-up motorcycle sputtered to a halt nearby. A young man and woman sat astride it.

Jun-ho straightened, sauntering toward them with the air of someone who had seen it all.

His voice was calm, almost detached, as he said, "You're driving without a helmet. I'm going to need to see your license."

The boy groaned dramatically, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "This is an ambush! Isn't this entrapment or something? You're really gonna squeeze a broke-ass kid like me?"

Jun-ho rubbed his temples, suppressing a sigh. "Sir, your license," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before the boy could retort, the girl stepped in, placing a hand on his chest with a light touch that silenced him. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she approached Jun-ho, her lips curving into a sly smile.

"Officer," she purred, fluttering her lashes. "How about you let us go? I have mine on," she added, tapping the helmet perched atop her head.

Jun-ho scoffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

He thought of Y/n—her fiery expressions, her teasing words whenever he recounted such encounters. He loved the way her jealousy surfaced in subtle, possessive comments. The thought warmed him, though he quickly shook it off to focus on the task at hand.

"Doesn't matter," he said, his voice steady.

The girl leaned closer, her voice dropping to a coquettish whisper. "You know, you're super cute."

Jun-ho took a deliberate step back, his expression unamused. "Now you're obstructing justice, miss," he replied, giving her a pointed glare.

"Ooh, and he's got some bite," she teased, undeterred.

"I've also got a girlfriend," he retorted, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He didn't care about her pout; he was already imagining Y/n's reaction to this story.

The girl tried to snap a picture of him, but Jun-ho barely flinched. He continued scanning the ticket, his professionalism unshaken.

"The fine's 20,000 won for not wearing a helmet," he said, directing his words to the boy. "Make sure you pay on time."

The girl, still unfazed, grinned. "Hey, sexy, is it cool if I post this? What's your Insta? Let's follow each other."

Jun-ho chuckled, ignoring her antics as the boy started the bike with an exasperated look. Before she could react, her companion sped off, leaving her standing in the dust.

"Hey! Where are you going? What about me?" she yelled after him, her indignation echoing down the street.

"What? Go ask your pig boyfriend. Maybe he'll give you a ride," the boy shouted back, his voice fading with the roar of the engine.

Jun-ho couldn't help it—he laughed, the sound rich and genuine as he watched the scene unfold.

Just then, a familiar voice called out. "Hey, Jun-ho!"

Jun-ho turned to see the chief approaching, his expression a mix of bemusement and exasperation. "So what? You transferred here just so you can get treated like shit?"

Jun-ho shrugged, his smile lingering as he replied, "Nah, just trying to keep things interesting."

The soft hum of the city filled the air as Jun-ho and the Chief stepped into a small restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley.

The place was unassuming yet familiar, the kind of spot that held memories woven into its wooden tables and the scent of jjajangmyeon. The warmth of the place was at odds with the tension that hung between them, but neither of them spoke as they slid into their seats.

A waitress brought over steaming bowls of noodles, and Jun-ho reached for the vinegar bottle, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Chief...do you put vinegar on your onion and radish?" he asked, feigning nonchalance. "It was so long ago. I can't remember how you liked it."

The Chief snorted, his voice gruff but tinged with familiarity. "Jun-ho, stop wasting your time. Come back to Major Crimes."

"Not on the onions. Just on the radish. Right?" Jun-ho pressed, refusing to meet the Chief's gaze.

The Chief leaned back, folding his arms. "Are we really gonna do this again? You're still mad, huh?"

Jun-ho didn't respond, busying himself with pouring vinegar.

The Chief sighed, his tone softening. "Look, I did everything I could. I tried to get the higher-ups to listen to you and A-yeong. Got the Coast Guard to search the area like you asked me to."

"I know," Jun-ho replied, his voice calm but distant, as though he were miles away. "Your jjajangmyeon is getting soggy. Come on, eat."

The Chief hesitated before continuing, his eyes fixed on Jun-ho.

"I want to believe you. Really, I do. Especially after what A-Yeong brought up as evidence. It's horrific. But we didn't get any of the photos you said you'd sent, then your phone fell into the ocean. And you still can't find this island of yours. You said people got murdered in those secret games. To get the higher-ups to buy that story, we need to show some evidence, Jun-ho..."

The words hung heavy in the air, and Jun-ho's fingers tightened around his chopsticks. He stayed quiet, his expression unreadable.

"And that's after you took a gun without permission and you and A-Yeong decided to go rogue. A couple of days later, you both come back looking like zombies. There was all this fuss about firing you and her, but I kept you both on," the Chief added, his voice tinged with frustration and something close to pride.

Jun-ho smirked faintly, giving a mock salute. "Sir, I salute you. Y/n and I are in your debt. You will forever be a hero to me."

"Why, you sarcastic little shit," the Chief retorted, shaking his head. "Look, you and I, we're the police. Firefighters, they fight fires with water. The police—"

"Fight crime with evidence," Jun-ho finished, a trace of bitterness in his tone. "I know. That's why I work in traffic now, and you still have Y/n. She's still in Major Crimes or whatever you're calling it these days."

The Chief sighed, his gaze softening. "Hey, Jun-ho, if you just remembered what he looked like... The guy who shot you?"

Jun-ho shook his head, his voice low. "No. I'm sorry."

But that wasn't the whole truth.

Only Y/n knew who had pulled the trigger that day, and he had made her promise not to tell anyone else. She hadn't even told her father or brother, though Jun-ho knew she wanted to. They'd fought about it before, Y/n urging him to come clean to the Chief, to expose In-ho.

But Jun-ho couldn't.

"He cared for me once," he had told her during one of their late-night arguments. "For all of us. I know that part of him is still in there, somewhere."

Y/n had sighed then, her fingers brushing against his in quiet frustration. "You're too good for this world, Jun-ho," she had whispered.

Now, sitting across from the Chief, Jun-ho replayed her words in his mind.

He glanced at his phone, smiling softly at a text from Y/n:

Don't forget, dinner with Appa tonight. Ha-kun's cooking—be prepared.

Even in the heaviness of the moment, thoughts of her lifted his spirits.

Her laughter, her fierce loyalty, and the way she softened when he kissed her forehead. Whatever storms raged in his mind, Y/n was his harbor, and for that, he was endlessly grateful.

As the Chief rambled on about the department, Jun-ho allowed himself a fleeting moment of peace, imagining Y/n's teasing smile waiting for him at home.

____________

The sea stretched out before them, an endless expanse of indigo waves glinting beneath a pale morning sun.

Every Saturday, like clockwork, Y/n and Jun-ho climbed aboard the Captain's weathered boat, chasing the phantom of an island that seemed determined to remain hidden.

For Jun-ho, it was a mission steeped in quiet determination. For Y/n, it was a tangled knot of duty and suspicion that gnawed at the edges of her mind.

The Captain, a gruff figure wrapped in layers of sun-worn clothing, always seemed to unsettle her. His sharp eyes darted too quickly over the water, and his hands lingered too long on his map, as though he were studying it for secrets it had no right to hold.

Y/n couldn't help but notice the frayed hem of his sleeves, singed as if by fire, or the faint scent of metal clinging to his coat, a smell too industrial for a fisherman.

"Hey, Captain," Jun-ho greeted as they stepped aboard.

"Oh, it's you two," Captain Hwang grunted, his voice low and gravelly.

"So, how are things?" Jun-ho asked, always the diplomat.

"Oh, same old, same old," the Captain replied, his tone indifferent. "When the weather's good, I fish. When it's bad, I stay in and get drunk."

Jun-ho chuckled, leaning against the railing. "Well, Captain Park, I gotta say, for someone who drinks every day, you still look pretty good."

Y/n offered a polite, thin smile, but her sharp eyes never left the Captain. She noticed the faint nick on his wrist, a cut too clean to be from handling fish. The edge of a tattoo peeked out from his collar—a symbol she swore she'd seen somewhere before.

"Quit your bullshit and put on your life vests," the Captain barked, though his nod to Y/n was oddly courteous. "It's time to look for your mystery island again."

"So, Captain Hwang, where are we off to this time?" Y/n asked teasingly, her voice light but her mind alert.

"In the past year or two, we've looked high and low for this thing. You still want to keep searching? I don't know where else to try," he replied, his tone laced with exasperation as the Captain turned to Jun-ho.

Jun-ho unfolded a map with the meticulous care of someone trying to mask their hope.

"I was going over the map again. There are a few places we haven't checked because of weather or tide conditions," he began, pointing to marked spots. "Let's try these today."

"Whatever you say, Cap," the Captain grumbled, starting the engine with a roar that echoed over the restless waves.

As the boat sped across the water, Y/n leaned against the rail, the salty wind whipping her hair into a wild, windswept mane. Jun-ho came to stand beside her, his arm brushing hers in a gesture that felt both accidental and deliberate.

"You're quiet today," he murmured, glancing at her profile.

She turned to him, her expression softening. "Just thinking."

"About the Captain?" he asked, his lips quirking into a knowing smile.

"Maybe." She sighed. "There's something about him that doesn't sit right with me. But I can't base everything on observations, can I?"

Jun-ho chuckled, his voice warm and low. "If anyone could, it'd be you. You've got that Sherlock Holmes glare down to a science."

Y/n swatted his arm playfully, her laugh ringing out like music over the waves. "Shut up, Jun"

His laughter joined hers, and for a moment, the weight of their quest lifted.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You know, if we don't find this island, I wouldn't mind being stuck with you on this boat forever."

She turned to him, her cheeks flushed, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

"You'd get sick of me," she teased, though her voice held a tremor of something deeper.

"Never," he replied, his gaze steady and sincere. "Not in a million years."

The boat slowed as they approached their next search area, but Y/n felt a flicker of warmth that chased away the cold bite of suspicion.

___________

The station hummed with its usual rhythm—a symphony of footsteps, the mechanical chime of departing trains, and the distant murmur of commuters.

Above the station, in an office , Gi-hun's team stood out, their movements purposeful and their voices carrying a faint edge of urgency. They clustered together, Woo-seok at their center, holding a photograph of the man who had become the key to their search.

"Listen up," Woo-seok began, his voice cutting through the ambient noise like a knife. "The person you've all been hired to track down... is this guy right here."

He held up a figurine of a man who looked anything but threatening. Speculative murmurs rippled through the group.

"He's tall, probably right around six feet," Woo-seok continued. "He's got nice hair, handsome, wears a real nice suit, and always carries a briefcase. Inside that briefcase? Stacks of cash and ddakji. Got it?"

Confused murmurs ensued, but Woo-seok pressed on, his tone unwavering.

"He finds strangers in the subway and plays ddakji with them. Then he hands them a business card."

"What's it say?" one of the men asked.

"Just shapes—a circle, triangle, and square," Woo-seok replied. "If you see anyone like this guy, you call the number we gave you immediately. Now, here's the plan: Group one, cover lines one and two. Group two, lines three and four. Group three..."

As Woo-seok detailed their assignments, the men listened intently, their faces alight with the promise of the 500-million-won bonus for whoever found the recruiter.

"From the first train to the last, check every station. Take a picture at each stop and send it to the group chat, or you don't get paid. Clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they chorused, their voices echoing off the tiled walls.

Moments later, the teams fanned out into the sprawling subway system. Like shadows, they moved through stations, approaching strangers with the picture in hand.

"Excuse me," one asked a commuter, "have you seen this guy? He's tall, carries a briefcase."

Their search continued until one of the men spotted a figure that matched the description—a man in a suit, briefcase in hand.

"Just a sec," one said, striding confidently toward the suspect.

"Wait, what are you doing?" his partner called after him.

"Excuse me, sir," the first searcher said, pulling off the man's hat without warning.

"Hey!" the man exclaimed, anger flaring in his voice.

The searcher held up his hands in mock apology. "Just a quick check."

The man stood to argue.

Just then, Chan-yeol stepped off the train nearby. His towering frame was weary from a long day's work, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. He took in the scene—the men, the photograph, the heated argument—and immediately pieced it together.

Chan-yeol's heart sank.

Someone was looking for the recruiter. If they found him, the games would resurface, and Y/n's life would once again be at risk. He could not—would not—allow that. Not again.

His protective instincts flared, memories of Y/n's laughter, her unguarded moments of joy, and her unyielding determination flooding his mind. His beloved daughter had endured enough.

But as he stood there, the question loomed: Did he still have it in him?

The resolve to protect, to shield himself from the storm that threatened to pull him back in?

Chan-yeol took a deep breath, steeling himself.

Whatever it took, he would act. For Y/n, for her safety, for the promise he had made to himself the last time he had nearly lost her.

With a purposeful stride, he left the station ready to intervene in whatever way necessary.

____________

The storm raged like a symphony of chaos, waves crashing against the sides of the boat with the fury of a thousand untold stories.

The wind whipped through the air, carrying with it a biting chill that settled deep into Y/n's bones. Yet, amidst the tempest, her focus never wavered from Jun-ho, who stood by her side, his expression shadowed by regret and determination.

"I told you we shouldn't go out in this kind of weather!" the Captain bellowed, his voice straining against the roar of the storm.

He gripped the wheel with white-knuckled intensity, fighting the sea's unrelenting wrath. "Whirlpools all over the place! No one sails out here—not even the big boats. It's a miracle we're still afloat. We almost became fish food looking for your damn island!"

Y/n's heart clenched at the Captain's harsh tone. Her lips parted to respond, but she stopped herself, glancing at Jun-ho.

For him, she had swallowed her pride and allowed the Captain's tirades to go unanswered.

"I'm sorry," Jun-ho murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, lost in the cacophony. His head hung low, rain dripping from his dark hair onto the deck.

Y/n reached out, her fingers finding his shoulder. She gently rubbed in slow, reassuring circles, her warmth breaking through the storm's icy embrace.

"You know how many islands there are in this ten-kilometer radius?" the Captain continued, his frustration bubbling over. "Could be hundreds. The currents are strong, and there's no telling how far you drifted with that buoy. Forget about the island where the games were—you can't even remember the one where you got shot. How are we supposed to find anything?"

Jun-ho nodded, his features taut with resignation. "Yeah, you're right. It's time to quit."

Y/n turned to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Quit? After all they had been through? She held her tongue, unwilling to challenge him in front of the Captain. This was not the time or place. She would speak to him later, in the quiet moments they would carve out for themselves.

"We've done everything we could," Jun-ho added, his voice steady but tinged with defeat.

The Captain chuckled, the sound surprisingly light given the circumstances. "Uh-huh, sure, but I'll see you here next week."

Y/n's lips curved into a small smile, masking the storm of emotions churning within her.

"We can't thank you enough," she said, her sincerity shining through the chaos. "We've asked so much of you."

The Captain waved her off with a rough laugh. "No need for thanks. But I'll admit, I'll miss these little outings."

"I'll still come by to visit," Jun-ho promised, his tone lighter now, almost playful.

"We can go out and catch some squid, huh?" The Captain grinned. "Crew members worth their salt are hard to come by nowadays. And you'll get more than you ever made with the police."

"Oh? How much are we talking?" Jun-ho asked, his grin matching the Captain's.

The Captain's laughter was loud and genuine. "We can hash that out over a drink when we get back to land."

Y/n pointed to the faint lights of the harbor, cutting through the storm like a beacon of hope. "Well, I can see the harbor over there."

As the boat rocked beneath them, Y/n felt Jun-ho's hand brush against hers.

She turned to him, and in the fleeting moment, the world fell silent. His eyes, dark and deep as the ocean, held hers. There was a softness there, a silent promise that the storm would pass—not just the one surrounding them, but the one inside him as well.

_____________

In the warm, golden hues of late afternoon, Jun-ho stood by the open window of the Shin house the faint rustling of leaves outside blending with the rhythmic hum of the city.

Y/n entered quietly, her face lit by the soft glow of the setting sun, her hair falling like silk over her shoulder.

Jun-ho turned. His heart swelled as he took her in, her presence a gentle calm amidst the storm that churned inside him. She held two cups of coffee, the steam curling up like an invitation to solace.

"I thought you could use this," she said with a smile, her voice soft, almost teasing.

Jun-ho chuckled, taking the cup she offered. "You always know what I need."

"Do you ever feel like the world moves too fast?" Y/n asked, her voice thoughtful. She was trying to get Jun-ho to talk about the previous day, but she had to do it carefully.

"All the time," Jun-ho replied, his eyes fixed on her. "But then you walk into a room, and for a moment, everything slows down."

Y/n laughed, her cheeks coloring faintly. "You're a terrible liar, Jun-ho."

"Maybe," he said, his voice dipping lower, "but not about this."

Y/n stood still, her heart fluttering as she looked at Jun-ho, who stood beside her, his presence like a steady, calming force in the whirlwind of her thoughts.

She had been about to say something, but now, with him so near, all words seemed to vanish like mist in the morning sun.

"Jun-ho, about what you said..." Y/n began, but the words seemed to slip away as she gazed into his eyes.

Just then, the door slammed open.

"Oi, lovebirds! Dinner's ready!" Ha-Kun's voice boomed, carrying the familiar teasing tone.

Y/n shot him a look, exasperated.

"Why can't you knock for once in your life?" she retorted, her voice sharp, though her eyes still twinkled with affection.

Jun-ho chuckled, his laughter a soft, melodic sound that wrapped itself around Y/n like a warm blanket.

"Well, because–" Ha-Kun began, but he faltered, clearly without a good response.

Instead, his eyes settled on the perfect target: Y/n's mismatched socks.

"Y/n, you're like a walking art project," Ha-Kun quipped, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Before Y/n could respond, a pillow was flying through the air, and the chase began

"You're impossible!" she growled, her voice a blend of frustration and affection. She darted after him.

Jun-ho watched, a quiet smile curling at the corners of his mouth, his steps slow but deliberate as he followed behind, making sure Y/n didn't slip in the chaos.

The sibling dashed in the cozy living room which was a haven of warmth, the crackling fire painting the room in amber and gold.

Y/n, her cheeks flushed from the chase, finally slowed her steps as she entered, flopping onto the arm of her father's favorite chair.

Chan-yeol, her father, watched with quiet amusement as Ha-Kun teased her relentlessly about her socks, his laughter a gentle rumble that resonated with a tenderness only a father could carry.

"Leave her be, Ha-Kun. Those socks are a masterpiece of their own kind," Chan-yeol said, his voice thick with affection.

Y/n rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're just saying that because you're my dad."

Chan-yeol placed a hand on her head, his touch a delicate whisper of love.

He smoothed her hair with the same care he had when she was younger, the motion as familiar and soothing as the hum of a lullaby.

"I'm saying it because it's true. You bring color to everything, my little artist."

Ha-Kun, crossing his arms in mock indignation, huffed. "And what about me?"

Chan-yeol smirked, the love in his eyes never wavering. "You bring the comedy, son."

Y/n stuck her tongue out at Ha-Kun, but the playful banter was a soft symphony, a reminder of how deeply they all cared for one another.

_______________

The recruiter sauntered into the convenience store, his every step brimming with an almost childlike glee.

Under his arm, he balanced a bulging stack of one hundred scratch-off cards, their glossy surfaces catching the flickering fluorescent lights above. His grin stretched from ear to ear, a strange juxtaposition of charm and madness.

"Uh... you want all of those?" the cashier asked, eyebrows raised, unable to mask their disbelief.

The recruiter simply nodded, his grin widening, his eyes sparkling as though privy to a secret only he knew.

"A hundred scratches?" the cashier repeated, chuckling nervously. "Lucky dream last night, huh?"

The recruiter let out a laugh, hearty and carefree, as if the world itself were his playground. He nodded once more, and the cashier, shaking their head with bemused resignation, slid the cards across the counter.

"Alright then. Here you go," the cashier said, clearly questioning the recruiter's sanity.

Balancing his new treasure along with the 100 neatly packaged bread rolls he had purchased earlier, the recruiter strolled out of the store with a spring in his step, whistling a lighthearted tune.

"Hey, he's just gone into Tapgol Park," one of Gi-hun's men reported, his voice low and urgent over the phone.

"I'm heading there now," Gi-hun replied curtly. "But don't approach him alone. I'll be there soon."

"Okay. Better hurry," his man said, watching from a distance as the recruiter disappeared into the park, his peculiar bundle in tow.

The park buzzed with its usual rhythm—birds chirping in the trees, the hum of distant conversations, the occasional clatter of footsteps against gravel.

The recruiter scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on his first target: a homeless man hunched on a bench, his tattered coat hanging loosely over frail shoulders.

"Excuse me," the recruiter began, his tone impossibly polite, like a salesman presenting an irresistible offer. The homeless man lifted his head, eyes filled with equal parts curiosity and skepticism.

"Hello, sir," the recruiter continued, his grin unwavering. "You seem to be struggling, living a life with no hope of a future. So, to help you out, I've decided to bring you a little gift today."

"A gift?" the man grunted, his voice rough and weary.

"That's right." The recruiter extended both hands, offering a bread roll in one and a scratch-off ticket in the other. "Now, it's all up to you. Which will you choose?"

The man let out a low, gravelly laugh, his gaze darting between the two options. After a moment of consideration, he reached for the lotto ticket, his hand trembling slightly.

The man scratched the ticket with the coin the recruiter provided.

"Oops! Sorry!" the recruiter exclaimed with mock cheer.

"Oh," the man sighed, his hope deflating like a punctured balloon.

"Bad luck," the recruiter said with a shrug. "Now, if you don't mind, my coin, sir." He held out his hand expectantly, his grin still firmly in place.

The recruiter worked his way through the square, offering the same bizarre choice to every homeless person he encountered. A handful took the bread, but most, lured by the slim chance of fortune, chose the lottery ticket.

Now, standing at the center of the park, the recruiter held the remaining bread rolls aloft. Without a hint of remorse, he began dumping them onto the ground in a deliberate display.

"What's he doing now?" Gi-hun barked into the phone, his frustration mounting.

"Wasting food," one of his men replied, aghast.

"Hey! Why would you waste good food?" someone from the gathering crowd yelled, their voice tinged with anger.

The recruiter turned toward the voice, his expression calm, almost serene. "I gave you all a choice," he said, his voice carrying over the rising commotion. "And you chose the other option. I'm not the one who wasted this—you are."

With that, he began stomping on the bread, crushing each roll with deliberate precision.

Gasps erupted from the onlookers as they scrambled to salvage what they could, but the recruiter was relentless, his movements swift and merciless.

"What's the matter with you?" someone shouted.

"Freaking waste!" another cried out.

The recruiter, unbothered by the chaos, hummed a light tune as he stepped back, his task complete.

Dusting off his hands, he straightened his posture, a smug, almost triumphant smile spreading across his face. Without a backward glance, he walked out of the park, his gait as jaunty as ever, leaving behind a scene of confusion and disbelief in his wake.

________________

Gi-hun's car sped down the busy streets, weaving through traffic like a man possessed. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his jaw tight with determination.

Behind him, the wail of sirens broke through the din of the city.

"Plate 2071, pull over," came the calm, commanding voice of Jun-ho over the police radio. "Plate 2071, pull over now."

Jun-ho sat in the squad car, his expression unreadable as he handed the task to the rookie officer beside him.

"You take this one," he said, his tone casual.

"Me, sir?" the younger officer asked, his nerves betraying him.

"They'll either try to charm their way out or claim entrapment," Jun-ho said, his voice firm but patient. "Don't let them walk all over you, but don't be too harsh. You're just doing your duty. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," the rookie said, squaring his shoulders as he stepped out of the car.

Approaching Gi-hun's window, the young officer spoke with as much authority as he could muster.

"Sir, you were going over the speed limit. May I see your license?"

Gi-hun cursed under his breath but complied, fumbling for his license. "Ah, here. Look, I'll pay double."

"Mr. Seong, where are you? You close?" Mr. Kim's voice crackled over the phone, urgency dripping from every word.

"I'll be there in a minute," Gi-hun replied, hastily shoving cash into the officer's hand.

"This guy's a nut job," Mr. Kim added. "He just got into a cab. I'll keep you updated, but hurry!"

"Copy that," Gi-hun muttered, snapping his phone shut. Without waiting for the officer to finish, he grabbed the ticket and sped off, tires screeching against the pavement.

The rookie officer returned to the squad car, his face a mixture of confusion and indignation.

"Well, that was fast," Jun-ho said dryly, his curiosity piqued. "You run his ID?"

"Yeah, but nothing came up. No criminal record. But his car was loaded with phones and tablets—looked suspicious."

Jun-ho glanced at the name on the license: Seong Gi-hun.

His heart quickened, a spark of recognition igniting within him. This was no ordinary speeder. This was his thread back to the games, the connection he'd been chasing for so long.

He leaned back in his seat, a storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. "Finally," he whispered, his lips curling into a determined smile.
















A/N

I hope you guys enjoyed the long chapter! 

Do you guys have anything you really want to see from this book? 

Maybe any specific Jun-ho & Y/n moments or anything else?

I'm open to suggestions lmk :)