For a moment, time seemed to stretch impossibly thin. The city below pulsed with life, its heartbeat echoing in the distant honks of taxis and the muffled hum of music from bars far below. But inside the suite, there was only silence—taut, expectant.
Haneul's grip tightened on the silencer-equipped pistol hidden beneath his jacket. A voice in the back of his mind told him to move, to finish the job before she did something unexpected.
And yet, she already had.
Jisoo wasn't cowering. She wasn't screaming, wasn't begging for her life. Instead, she stood before him, poised and unreadable, her gaze locked onto his as if she had known all along that he would come for her.
The air felt electric, charged with something neither of them could name.
"You don't look surprised," Haneul finally said, his voice smooth, controlled.
Jisoo tilted her head, a slow smile ghosting her lips. "Should I be?"
Most people never saw him coming. Fewer still lived long enough to speak to him. And no one—absolutely no one—smiled when they did.
He took a measured step forward, closing the distance between them. He was within arm's reach now, close enough to catch the faintest scent of jasmine and something else, something warm and undeniably her.
"You knew." It wasn't a question.
Jisoo exhaled softly, a delicate thing that barely stirred the air between them. "Let's just say I had a feeling."
Haneul's jaw tensed. The details of his contract had been clear—Min Jisoo was the heir to the Min Group, a woman raised in privilege, sheltered from the kind of world he belonged to. She should have been afraid.
Instead, she looked… intrigued.
"Who sent you?" she asked suddenly.
Haneul didn't answer. He never did. Names were irrelevant. The job was all that mattered.
Jisoo studied him, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, in a movement so fluid it felt almost choreographed, she turned away from him and walked toward a small bar cart near the window. Crystal decanters gleamed under the city lights, the amber liquid inside them shifting with her every step.
"Whiskey?" she offered, lifting one of the bottles.
Haneul narrowed his eyes. "You think we're here to have a drink?"
Jisoo let out a soft chuckle, pouring herself a glass. "Why not? You haven't killed me yet. That means you're curious." She took a sip, her gaze never leaving his. "So, let's talk."
This was wrong. Completely wrong.
His mark should have been trembling, pleading. She should have been unconscious on the floor, a single bullet to the heart ensuring the clean, efficient kill he was known for.
And yet, here he was, watching her drink as if this were nothing more than an ordinary evening.
"Who are you, really?" he found himself asking.
Jisoo swirled the whiskey in her glass, her lips curling into something dangerously close to amusement. "I could ask you the same thing."
Haneul remained silent.
Jisoo set her drink down, stepping closer. "You're Jung Haneul, aren't you?"
At that, something in him sharpened. His name was never spoken. Even those who hired him never dared say it aloud.
His silence was all the confirmation she needed.
Jisoo exhaled, shaking her head in what might have been admiration. "The infamous ghost. The assassin no one has ever seen, never caught, never failed." She met his gaze, and for the first time, he saw something else in her eyes. Not fear, not amusement—understanding.
He didn't like it.
"Who are you?" he repeated, this time with more force.
Jisoo's smile faded slightly. "Just a woman who knows how the game works."
Something about the way she said it sent a whisper of unease through him.
The pieces of this puzzle weren't fitting together. If she knew he was coming, why hadn't she run? Why wasn't she calling for security? And why did she look at him like he was someone she recognized—not just as an assassin, but as something else?
"You have questions," Jisoo murmured. "I can give you answers. But only if you put the gun away."
Haneul hesitated. He had never let a target dictate his actions before. But then again, Min Jisoo was unlike anyone he had ever met.
A second passed. Then another.
And then, slowly, he reached inside his jacket—and set his gun down on the bar cart.
Jisoo smiled, and for the first time in his life, Jung Haneul had the unsettling feeling that he had just become the hunted.