A voice followed, muffled through the thin motel door.
"Dara~ Are you in here?"
The girl and the man exchanged a look. Their eyes shifted to the thin ribbon of steam drifting out from the barely-cracked bathroom door.
The man stood abruptly, chair legs scraping the floor.
"Seonhwa," he whispered, "Hide."
She pushed up from her seat too, shaking her head. "But—"
His look cut her off.
"You're the only one they think died, out of all of us." His voice lowered, "Hide."
Seonhwa lowered her eyes, breath breaking. A soft sob escaped before she could stop it. Her fingers tightened around the injured man's hand one last time, then slipped away.
The man headed for the nightstand beside the bed. He hooked his fingers under the handle and yanked the drawer open.
Inside, beneath a pack of cheap tissues and a folded motel brochure, lay a black handgun wrapped in a thin towel.
He pulled the gun free, the metal cold against his palm. He checked the magazine with practiced fingers.
Behind him, Seonhwa's footsteps padded across the carpet as she moved to hide.
Knock.
Knock.
He heard the soft scrape of the closet door, the small catch in Seonhwa's breath as she squeezed herself inside before finally moving toward the door himself.
On his way, he passed the bathroom just as it creaked open from the inside.
He reached out fast, stopping the door from opening with one hand.
Dara's face peeked out through the narrow gap, confused.
Before she could say a word, he shook his head.
Dara stood still for a moment, then stepped back as he eased the door closed again, careful not to make a sound.
He turned toward the entrance,
and realized the knocking had stopped.
The man froze mid-step, gun raised halfway, breath caught in his throat. The sudden absence of sound pressed heavier than the knocks ever did. His pulse thudded hard, loud enough he wondered if whoever was outside could hear it through the thin motel walls.
He inched closer to the door, each footstep barely more than a whisper on the carpet—
tap.
A single, soft sound against the door. Like someone laying a gun's muzzle right where his forehead lined up on the other side.
The man flinched, nearly gasping, the gun snapping up fully toward the door. His finger hovered at the trigger, steadying.
He kept the barrel fixed on the door, staring at the wood as if he could see straight through it. His mind filled in the shape of the person standing on the other side, a shadow lined up with his aim, someone standing right behind the door.
He imagined the height, the stance, the angle of the head. The muzzle of his gun aligned perfectly with where that head would be.
He began applying pressure to the trigger.
…
"Hajoon… is that you?"
His whole body froze. His finger stopped mid-pull.
"…Taeyang?" Hajoon whispered.
"Yeah, it's me!" the voice answered, warm and casual, as if he were dropping by for a drink instead of knocking on a motel door in hiding.
Hajoon didn't lower the gun, but the tightness in his chest eased slightly. He stepped closer, inch by inch, still keeping the muzzle raised. When he reached the door, he angled his head and peered through the peephole.
A man in a long coat stood in the hallway. His hair was messy, bangs falling over his eyes, rainwater dripping from the ends. He looked relaxed, smiling casually.
Hajoon scanned the hallway through the peephole, checking corners, shadows, the stairwell, and the door across the hall.
"Why are you here?" Hajoon asked.
Taeyang scratched the back of his head with an awkward little shrug.
"Just… visiting my retired colleagues, and I have some important piece of information I wanted to give you guys."
"Do you bring anything else with you?" Hajoon asked, eyes still on the hallway rather than Taeyang's face.
Without a hint of hesitation, Taeyang slipped a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun. He held it up casually, like he was showing off a new gadget.
"Just a gun," he said. "For self-defense. I'm not stupid enough to walk around unarmed with everything going on, you know?"
Hajoon stared at the gun, then at Taeyang's completely unfazed and unbothered expression. The guy might as well have been holding a TV remote.
Taeyang lowered the gun and tucked it back into his coat.
"So," he added, "you gonna let me in or do we keep chatting in the hallway where anyone can be watching from places we least expect?"