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                                   ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ
                               - 𝔤𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 -

                                   ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ                               - 𝔤𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 -

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The mansion perched precariously on the hill, its silhouette shrouded in mist like a ghostly apparition in a horror movie. Namjoon cursed under his breath as he surveyed the scene. Jungkook's sleek black motorbike stood out starkly against the backdrop of expensive cars, each guarded by burly figures who shared drinks and gossip with bored yawns. He'd meant to wait for Jungkook, but the clock was ticking, and he was already running late.

He'd carefully chosen a black suit, the white points of his collar a stark contrast against the darkness. He looked like a man who belonged. A man who might even be part of the shadowed world he was infiltrating. He idly lit a cigarette, the familiar ritual a soothing balm to his nerves. As he flicked the ash into the overgrown gravel, he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. A man with a face etched with tattoos and piercings, a man he'd seen lurking in the shadows of their hideout, approached him.

"The car keys," the man, Wonsik, growled, his voice rough as sandpaper.

Namjoon tilted his head, the cigarette tucked between his lips adding to his air of cool indifference. "I said the car keys, Mr. RM, are your ears clean enough?" Wonsik spat, annoyance lacing his voice. "We keep them for security matters. Thought you'd already know."

Namjoon stepped closer, meeting Wonsik's gaze steadily. "You're getting on my nerves, alright" Namjoon said, his tone a low thrum of controlled anger. He was close enough to feel the heat radiating from Wonsik's body, the scent of cheap cologne and something more pungent, drugs probably.

But before the tension could escalate further, an unpleasant voice cut through the air. He stepped out of the mist, a dark figure against the backdrop of the hazy night. Jungkook immediately drew attention, even in the midst of the boisterous gathering. In his hand, he held his keys, the metallic glint catching the dim light filtering through the trees.

"Cut your bullshit, or the boss will cut something else, Wonsik," Jungkook said, his voice laced with a dangerous amusement. He grasped the keys from Namjoon's hand and tossed them all at the guard, a nonchalant gesture that belied the simmering tension beneath the surface. Namjoon was left with a raised eyebrow.

Wonsik, caught off guard, looked from Jungkook to Namjoon and back again. His gaze lingered on Jungkook for a moment longer, a flicker of something like respect in his eyes. He finally mumbled an apology, his shoulders slumping, and retreated back into the shadows.

"What an entrance," Namjoon said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He watched as Jungkook walked closer to him, his movements easy and fluid.

Jungkook took a step back. "You look good, RM-shi," he said, his gaze lingering on Namjoon's suit, the subtle way he moved, the air of understated confidence that clung to him. He was a walking contradiction: a police officer undercover, pretending to be a man who belonged in this world of darkness and danger.

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