Chapter Text
It was a normal day at the office. If anything in this building could ever be called normal.
You were used to normal being a performance.
Back in your old life, normal meant memorising which version of yourself was safest to be. It meant smiling at the right people, staying quiet during the wrong conversations, and never asking questions that could be traced back to you. You learned early that curiosity got punished sometimes gently, sometimes permanently.
So you learned to be useful instead.
Paperwork filled your desk, neatly stacked and double-checked. Schedules, signatures, sealed envelopes you never opened. Your job was simple: make sure everything was exactly where it needed to be before your bosses arrived, and exactly how they expected it to remain when they left.
You were good at simple things. It kept you alive.
You were usually the last one to go but this time San's office light was still on, You'd only ever seen him in passing brief moments in hallways, a silhouette behind glass, a presence that lingered even when he wasn't there. He was quiet in his kindness. Approving time off without questions. Leaving notes on your desk telling you not to stay too late. Small things. Intentional things. The kind of careful attention that made you nervous, because you had learned long ago that kindness always meant something underneath it.
Your interactions never went beyond a nod in the morning and another at night.
That was safer.
As you packed your desk, you felt it his gaze. You looked up, catching him watching from his doorway. There was no expression on his face, but his eyes didn't move away when yours met them it made the hairs on your neck stand he always looked like he knew more than he should, it was like he was planning his next move you shake the feeling off and grab you bag and coat.
You gave him a small smile.
"Night," you said softly.
He didn't respond. Just nodded once.
The walk home was familiar enough that you barely had to think about it. Same streets. Same turns. Same habit of checking reflections in shop windows, same instinct to listen for footsteps that matched yours too closely.
Old habits never really leave you. They just get quieter.
Still, the feeling wouldn't leave.
It crept low in your stomach, heavy and wrong, like it used to when your father's meetings ran too long into the night, or when you asked your father questions that no one was supposed to ask. You glanced back once. The street was empty except for the glow of street lamps and the distant shape of San locking the office doors behind him.
You told yourself "it's nothing" like you had before, too many times.
You'd barely taken three more steps when something slammed into your back.
The world tilted violently.
You cried out, stumbling forward as your shoulder clipped the brick wall beside you. Pain flared sharp and immediate, knocking the breath from your lungs. A hand twisted into your hair, yanking your head back hard enough that your vision blurred. "Don't scream," a voice hissed.
Cold metal pressed against your temple.
And just like that, your past wasn't past anymore.
Your heart thundered so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The gun was real you knew it instantly. You had seen enough real ones before to never mistake the weight of them "You work for dangerous men," he continued, breath hot against your ear. "They need to learn what happens when they don't play fair. Y/N" Your hands shook as you lifted them slowly, palms open "How do you know that name?" you whispered.
The pressure against your head increased.
Then...
The weight vanished.
The man was ripped away from you so violently you stumbled forward, collapsing to your knees as pain shot through your shoulder for a second, there was only silence.
Then the gun hit the pavement.
San moved like something you hadn't been prepared to see not the quiet man from the office. Not the polite presence behind glass. Something controlled and precise and frightening in how little hesitation there was in him, He had the man pinned against the wall in seconds, forearm pressed hard against his throat.
The streetlight caught his face calm, scarily calm.
"You pointed a gun at her, why?" San said quietly.
The man choked out a laugh. "Didn't think you'd get here that fast." San leaned closer. "You don't get to think anymore."
Sirens echoed faintly in the distance.
San disarmed him completely before stepping back just enough to let him drop to the ground, gasping.
Then he turned.
And his focus shifted entirely to you.
"Look at me," he said, crouching in front of you. His voice softened but only slightly. "Where are you hurt?" you look up at him in shock and fear you knew he was strong, you had heard the stories from your father but this, this is not what you had expected. "My shoulder," you managed, voice unsteady. "And I think I hit my head."
San's jaw tightened.
His coat was around you before you realised he'd moved "You're coming with me," he said, already pulling out his phone. "Seonghwa needs to know."
The meeting room was silent when you entered.
Seonghwa stood immediately.
He didn't ask questions at first. His eyes moved over you, your posture, your arm, the faint signs of impact and something in his expression shifted, subtle but sharp.
San explained. Brief. Controlled. Enough.
The gun. The timing. The certainty that you were being watched.
Seonghwa listened without interrupting.
When San finished, Seonghwa finally spoke "They knew her routine?" San nodded once. "Yes."
A pause.
"That was a warning," Seonghwa said his gaze lifted to yours not unkind. But absolute "This will never happen again."
San moved closer to you, not touching but close enough that his presence blocked the room from feeling too large "You don't leave alone anymore, we'll keep you safe" Seonghwa continued. "You don't walk anywhere without us knowing. And you do not dismiss this as nothing."
You looked down at your hands.
They were still shaking.
"I don't want to cause trouble," you murmured San's voice cut in immediately. "You already are trouble," he said softly. "Just not the kind we were expecting." Seonghwa stepped closer, like he was closing a distance that had already been decided "From this moment on," he said, voice low, "you're under our protection."
The word settled heavier than it should have.
Protection.
Safety.
Control.
And the way they looked at you wasn't like an employee anymore.
It was like something had already been decided without your permission.
And for the first time since you ran
You realised the past hadn't just followed you.
It had found you through them.