"I recognize them, Hwang."
The name hung there, deliberate.
Personal.
And then—
"To make it worse... he has a mole."
A breath.
Measured.
"On his nose. Same place."
No one spoke. No one moved. Because now— It wasn't just resemblance.
It was precision.
At the center, Hyunjin didn't react immediately. He didn't flinch. Didn't speak. For a moment, he looked exactly the same as before—still, composed, untouchable. But something shifted behind his eyes.
Subtle. Dangerous. Like a crack forming beneath glass.
His fingers tightened just slightly, knuckles paling before relaxing again, control snapping back into place.
Slowly—
He stood.
The movement was smooth, but carried weight. Authority settled into the room the second he straightened, the air pressing heavier against everyone present.
His gaze moved. Not frantic. Not desperate. Calculated.
He turned his head just enough.
"Jeongin. Felix."
Their attention snapped to him instantly.
"Run a background check."
His voice was even. Too even.
"Everything."
A beat.
Then—
"Jisung."
Another shift.
"Keep a close eye on him."
The words were simple. But the meaning behind them wasn't. Not curiosity. Not coincidence.
Surveillance.
Protection.
Or something far more complicated.
Morning didn't feel like morning. It felt like the night had never really ended.
Minho woke up slower than usual, his body protesting the moment he tried to move. A dull ache spread from the back of his head, pulsing faintly, while a sharper pain flared along his ribs when he shifted too quickly.
He sucked in a breath, wincing. "Great," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his face. The mirror didn't do him any favors.
A faint bruise darkened his jaw, just visible enough to draw attention, while the one on his ribs—hidden beneath fabric—burned every time he moved the wrong way. He stared at his reflection for a second longer than necessary, eyes lingering not on the injuries... but on himself.
