Her |D.P.|

7.

HYEON-JU'S POV:

The first thing I noticed when we stepped into Lim's office was how stuffy it was. The blinds were half-drawn, the late morning sun casting long, slanted shadows across his desk. The faint hum of the air conditioner wasn't enough to cut through the heavy smell of coffee and stale paperwork.

He didn't look up right away. He toyed with his tennis racket in his hand while on the phone before he finally turned toward us with an expectant expression.
"Ho-yeong, Jun-woo, and Hyeon-jung," he said, his voice light but certain, as if he was reading straight from some invisible roster.

I kept my face neutral, though my eyes flicked briefly to Ho-yeol. He didn't move.

"Private Kim Hyeon-ju," I corrected, my tone polite but pointed.

"Private An Jun-ho," Jun-ho added flatly.

"Corporal Han Ho-yeol," Ho-yeol said, making no effort to hide the faint irritation in his voice.

We all stood there, still and formal, staring straight ahead as though our necks were bolted in place.

"You guys did a great job, huh?" Lim leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his stomach. "Yeah, I'm sure all those deserters... they want to be left alone, but our guys in the D.P just goes and catches them all."

I could feel Ho-yeol's eyes slide toward me as Lim continued. "It's very rewarding, isn't it?"

"They found him on the street," Sergeant Park said abruptly from the side, his voice carrying that clipped, factual tone he always used when he wanted to ground a conversation.

"Even so," Lim went on, "they made a difference." He gave a half-smile. "It's only the first half of the year and you already caught seven." He nodded as if already deciding something. "Let's catch ten this year. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," I said automatically.

He turned to Park. "Park, how about it?"

Park's lips twitched like he wanted to sigh but thought better of it. "Yeah, sure. Yes."

"Have fun on your leave," Lim said, his gaze lingering on me with a slight smirk. "Don't get into trouble."

I arched an eyebrow. "I'll try my best, sir."

"Private Ah Jun-ho."

"Corporal Han Ho—'yeol'," Ho-yeol cut in, exaggerating the last syllable like he was trying to train Lim's ear.

"Private Kim Hyeon-ju, sir," I repeated once more, refusing to give him the satisfaction of forgetting again.

———————

The moment the meeting ended, the air felt lighter. Park drove us to Ho-yeol's place, his car rumbling along the narrow streets. The early afternoon sunlight had mellowed, painting everything in warm gold.

We piled out, of the car still in our uniforms. Park leaned over in his car to say that.
"You're free to have fun on your leave," he said, "but sleep with your phones in your underwear."

"Wait," Ho-yeol said, deadpan, "what if I don't wear underwear?"

I didn't even think before rolling my eyes. "You're disgusting."

He tilted his head at me with that maddening smirk. "You'll miss me when I'm gone, though."

I narrowed my eyes, but he just turned away toward the building, smug.

———————

Inside his apartment, the air was filled with the savory smell of boiling ramen. Ho-yeol had already tossed some instant noodles into a pot, humming to himself like he was some culinary genius. Jun-ho sat cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, waiting for the food like an obedient little brother.