"You were the reason I'm alive."

"What?"

"Something I wasn't supposed to know."

San waited.

Wooyoung swallowed.

"People have been disappearing."

San's expression changed.

"Who?"

"People who worked for a private security company."

"What company?"

Wooyoung hesitated.

Then gave him a name.

San knew it.

He knew it very well.

The organization that employed him.

His stomach turned.

"How did you find out?"

"My brother worked there."

San stared.

"Where is he?"

Wooyoung's eyes filled with tears.

"Dead."

The word was barely audible.

San understood.

Suddenly, the folder made sense.

The contract.

The urgency.

The second team.

Wooyoung wasn't the problem.

Wooyoung was evidence.

And San…

San had been sent to erase him.

The next morning, Wooyoung woke to find San standing by the window.

Sunlight filled the room.

For the first time, Wooyoung could see him properly.

San looked tired.

Not physically.

Something deeper.

Like he had spent years carrying something heavy and had only recently realized how heavy it was.

Wooyoung sat up.

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Someone had to watch."

"You could've woken me."

"You needed sleep."

Wooyoung stared at him.

"You're very strange."

"I've been told."

"You're a murderer."

San's face became still.

"Yes."

"But you saved me."

"Yes."

"Are you still planning to kill me?"

San looked at him.

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Wooyoung believed him.

That frightened him.

But he believed him.

They spent the next two days gathering evidence.

San knew where to look.

Wooyoung knew what to look for.

They became a strange team.

The assassin and the target.

The man who was supposed to end Wooyoung's life and the man who kept making him remember why life mattered.

They argued.

They ate instant noodles.

They slept in shifts.

They laughed once.

Only once.

Wooyoung had discovered San hated bananas.

"You're an assassin and you're afraid of bananas?"

"I'm not afraid."

"You moved your entire bowl away."

"I don't like them."

"That's fear."

"It's not."

Wooyoung laughed.

San stared at him.

And then he laughed too.

It was quiet.

Almost unfamiliar.

Wooyoung looked at him.

"You should do that more."

"What?"

"Laugh."

San stopped.

Wooyoung smiled.

"It suits you."

San looked down.

Something inside his chest hurt.

Not badly.

Just enough.

On the fourth night, they found the evidence.

A list.

Names.

Dates.

Payments.

Orders.

Executions.

San's own name was on it.

So was Wooyoung's.

Next to Wooyoung's name was one word.

"Final witness."

San stared at it.

Wooyoung stood beside him.

"That's why."

San nodded.

"They're going to come tonight."

"How many?"

"Enough."

Wooyoung looked at him.

"What do we do?"

San closed the laptop.

"Run."

"You always say that."

"It works."

"It didn't work for my brother."

San had no answer.

Wooyoung looked at him.

Then said quietly.

"Don't leave me."

San's breathing stopped.

Wooyoung immediately looked away.

"I mean…"

"I know."

San's voice was soft.

"I won't."

They came at 2:07 a.m.

The first bullet shattered the window.

San pushed Wooyoung to the floor.

"Stay down."

"San…"

"Stay down."

Gunfire filled the apartment.

San moved like someone born inside violence.

Fast.

Precise.

Terrifying.

Wooyoung watched from behind the wall.

For the first time, he understood what San really was.

Not a romanticized killer.

Not a mysterious man from a story.

A weapon.

A human weapon.

And yet when San turned toward him, his expression changed.

The weapon disappeared.

There was only San.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Good."

A bullet struck the wall.

San grabbed Wooyoung's hand.

"Now."

They ran.

Down the stairs.

Through the alley.

Into the street.

Rain began to fall.

Wooyoung slipped.

San caught him.

"Come on."

"I'm trying."

"I know."

They kept running.

Then San stopped.

Wooyoung nearly collided with him.

"What?"

San was staring ahead.

A car.

Three men.

Guns.

They had been surrounded.

One man stepped forward.

"San."

San's jaw tightened.

"Drop the weapon."

San didn't move.

"He's not worth dying for."

Wooyoung looked at him.

San didn't look back.

The man raised his gun.

"Last chance."

San slowly lowered his weapon.

Wooyoung's heart sank.

San whispered.

"Run when I tell you."

"What?"

"Just trust me."

The man stepped closer.

"Good choice."

San looked at Wooyoung.

His eyes were calm.

Too calm.

"Now."

San moved.

The night exploded.

When it was over, rain covered everything.

The men were down.

The car was gone.

San stood in the middle of the street.

Blood ran down his arm.

Wooyoung stared.

"You're hurt."

"It's nothing."

"San."

"I'm fine."

"You always say that."

San looked at him.

Wooyoung walked closer.

Then stopped.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Finally, Wooyoung reached out.

His fingers touched San's wrist.

San looked down.

The touch was gentle.

Nothing like a gun.

Nothing like a trigger.

Nothing like death.

Wooyoung whispered.

"Thank you."

San's throat tightened.

"You shouldn't thank me."

"Why?"

"Because I was the reason you were in danger."

"No."

Wooyoung shook his head.

"You were the reason I'm alive."

San looked at him.

And for the first time in years, he didn't know what to do with his hands.

They disappeared.

New names.

New documents.

New city.

The organization collapsed after the evidence was released.

San testified.

Wooyoung testified.

The men responsible were arrested.

Some escaped.

Some didn't.

The world continued.

It always did.

Months passed.

San stopped killing.

At first, he didn't know what to do with his hands.

He had spent years using them to hold weapons.

Now he used them to make coffee.

To open doors.

To carry groceries.

To touch the pages of books.

Sometimes he still woke at night.

Sometimes his breathing became shallow.

Sometimes he could hear the old voice.

Shoot.

Come on, shoot.

Shoot.

And every time, he remembered blonde hair beneath moonlight.

One evening, Wooyoung found him standing by the window.

"You okay?"

San nodded.

"Yeah."

Wooyoung didn't believe him.

He came closer.

"Bad dream?"

"Not yet."

Wooyoung smiled.

"That's optimistic."

San smiled back.

They stood together.

The city lights stretched beneath them.

Wooyoung's blonde hair caught the light.

San looked at it.

Wooyoung noticed.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at my hair."

San laughed softly.

"Maybe I like it."

"Maybe?"

"Definitely."

Wooyoung smiled.

Then he leaned against the window.

"You know what I remember most?"

"What?"

"The night you were supposed to kill me."

San's expression changed.

"I remember the rifle."

Wooyoung nodded.

"And I remember thinking that I was going to die."

San looked down.

"I remember thinking I was going to pull the trigger."

"But you didn't."

"No."

"Why?"

San was quiet.

Then he answered.

"Because you looked alive."

Wooyoung frowned.

"What does that mean?"

San took a breath.

A slow breath.

The kind he used to take before pulling a trigger.

Except there was no trigger now.

No rifle.

No order.

No voice in his ear.

Just Wooyoung.

"Everyone I'd killed before that moment had become an assignment before I'd ever met them."

He looked at Wooyoung.

"But you didn't."

Wooyoung's eyes softened.

"You became a person."

San nodded.

"And once I saw you as a person, I couldn't make you disappear."

Silence.

Then Wooyoung smiled.

"Good."

San looked at him.

"Good?"

"Good that you couldn't."

San laughed quietly.

Wooyoung stepped closer.

Close enough that San could see every detail of his face.

The tiny imperfections.

The tiredness beneath his eyes.

The softness of his expression.

The blonde strands falling over his forehead.

Beautiful.

Not because he was flawless.

Because he was alive.

Because he was here.

Because San had once held his life between his finger and a trigger and had chosen, somehow, without understanding why…

Not to end it.

Wooyoung whispered—

"San?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you happy?"

San thought about it.

For a long time.

Then he said—

"I think I'm learning how."

Wooyoung smiled.

"That's enough."

San looked at him.

"Yeah."

Outside, the city continued moving.

Cars passed.

Lights changed.

People laughed somewhere below.

Life went on.

And for the first time, San wasn't watching it through a scope.

He wasn't counting distances.

He wasn't measuring wind.

He wasn't controlling his breathing because someone was waiting for him to shoot.

He simply breathed.

In.

Out.

Again.

Wooyoung stood beside him.