The helicopter blades sliced through the night sky with a steady thump-thump-thump, the army-grade machine cutting a sharp path toward safety. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Dmitry sat rigidly in his seat, his sharp eyes never leaving his daughter. Andrea was slumped beside Layla, her face pale, vision blurring in and out. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. The blast, the chaos, the smoke — everything had taken its toll.
Layla, ever the protective one, shifted closer and gently brushed damp strands of hair from Andrea's face. "Hey, stay with us, okay? Just a little longer."
On the opposite side, Eunwoo leaned forward, his usual calm cracked with visible worry. He kept checking her pulse, her breathing, his fingers brushing her wrist every few seconds. Minjoon sat beside him, silent but alert, the pilot's voice crackling through the comms as he updated their position.
"She's fine," Dmitry said suddenly, his voice low and clipped, but the glare he shot at Eunwoo was anything but reassuring. It was the kind of look that could make seasoned agents straighten their spines.
Eunwoo met his eyes for a split second, then looked away. Even he knew better than to argue right now.
Dmitry turned to the pilot, his tone shifting into pure command. "Take us to base. Now."
The pilot hesitated for half a second. "Sir, my base or—"
Eunwoo cut in quickly, "My base, Minjoon will lead the way."
Dmitry's gaze swung back to Eunwoo, cold and assessing. After a beat, he gave a single nod. "Fine. Go to his base."
The pilot banked the helicopter smoothly, the nose turning toward Eunwoo's hidden mansion. The ride grew quieter, but the tension only thickened.
Andrea's condition was worsening. Her head lolled against Layla's shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven. She was slipping — fast.
Before she could lose consciousness completely, Dmitry unbuckled and moved quickly. He pulled a small blue tablet from his inner pocket, pressing it to her lips. "Swallow."
Andrea's eyes fluttered. She obeyed weakly. The tablet went down with a gulp.
Seconds passed. Then... relief. Her breathing steadied. Color slowly returned to her cheeks. The world stopped spinning quite so violently.
But as the medicine took effect and exhaustion pulled her under, a familiar vision drifted in — the same one that had haunted her before. She saw herself in that breathtaking white wedding dress again, the one they had described earlier. Elegant lace, flowing train, delicate pearls catching the light. But this time the dress was torn at the hem, smudged with soot and dirt from the earlier chaos. She tried to fight the vision, to push it away, but it clung stubbornly.
Layla continued stroking her hair soothingly, murmuring soft reassurances even as Andrea's eyes finally closed in uneasy sleep.
Eunwoo's gaze, however, stayed locked on Andrea from across the narrow cabin. His eyes were intense, unreadable. Something heavy hung in the air between them — something neither of them had fully addressed yet.
Dmitry remained stone-faced, the picture of cold professionalism. He was the godfather, the shadow commander, the man who led a secret society with an iron fist. But when it came to Andrea's happiness... even he softened. Just a little.
In the front, Minjoon muttered under his breath, "Boss... Sir is too tough."
Eunwoo shot him a look. "Are you serious right now? I'm not in the mood for jokes. I'm worried about Andrea."
Minjoon raised both hands in mock surrender, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "Just saying... first time I've seen someone make you look like a scolded puppy."
Layla, overhearing, let out a quiet snort of laughter before quickly covering her mouth. She whispered to Minjoon, "Remember how he used to chew us out for the tiniest mistakes? Payback's sweet."
Eunwoo glared at both of them, but there was no real heat in it. Not when Andrea was sleeping so close.
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The helicopter finally descended, landing silently on the hidden rooftop helipad of Eunwoo's mansion. The secret door hissed open, the floor sliding aside with a low mechanical groan to reveal the private entrance below. It was the kind of high-tech reveal that always felt like something out of a spy movie.
As soon as the skids touched down, Eunwoo was on his feet. He moved with careful precision, lifting Andrea into his arms as if she weighed nothing. Her head rested against his chest, still deep in exhausted sleep.
Dmitry stood as well, ready to follow, but Minjoon stepped in politely. "Sir, you should rest in the living room. Miss Andrea will need quiet and rest."
Dmitry's eyes narrowed for a moment, then he exhaled. "Yeah... you're right." He turned to the three of them — Eunwoo, Layla, and Minjoon — his voice shifting back into full commander mode. "All three of you. Meeting room. Now. I need to talk to you. Is that clear?"
The last sentence wasn't a question. It was an order.
Eunwoo nodded once, still carrying Andrea toward her bedroom. Layla and Minjoon exchanged a quick glance behind Dmitry's back — wide-eyed, half-amused, half-terrified.
Once Andrea was gently tucked into her bed, the three of them gathered in the sleek meeting room downstairs. Dmitry stood at the head of the table like a general addressing his troops. The casual tone he had used earlier with Andrea was gone. This was the leader of the secret society — cold, precise, and furious.
"I was supposed to arrive tomorrow," Dmitry began, voice low. "But when my agent reported that something was going to happen... I came early." He paused, then turned his full attention to Eunwoo. His eyes were like steel. "And this... this is how you take care of her?"
Eunwoo stood perfectly still, listening without interruption. It was rare — extremely rare — to see him like this. Usually, he was the one scolding Layla and Minjoon for slip-ups during missions. Now the roles were reversed, and the reversal was brutal.
Dmitry continued, his voice rising just enough to carry weight. "I entrusted her to you for this mission. I handed you the responsibility. And you let her get caught in a blast? You let her health deteriorate to the point I had to force medicine down her throat mid-flight?"
Layla and Minjoon stood frozen, eyes wide. They had never seen Eunwoo take a dressing-down so quietly. No arguments. No cool retorts. Just careful, respectful silence. The control Dmitry had over him was almost palpable.
Minjoon leaned slightly toward Layla and whispered, barely moving his lips, "This is... historic. The great Eunwoo getting scolded. I feel like I should be taking notes."
Layla bit her lip to stop herself from giggling. "Shhh. But yeah... he looks like a kid who got caught sneaking out. It's kind of satisfying."
Eunwoo's jaw tightened, but he still didn't speak. He knew better.
Dmitry kept going. "I need a proper report. The attack — who was behind it? And why did Minjoon and Layla leave with Juntae and Seori before the blast without informing anyone? Without even a goodbye?"
Layla stepped forward carefully. "Sir... Seori met up with Juntae earlier than expected. We didn't have time to brief Eunwoo. It happened too fast. They seemed... closer than before."
Dmitry's expression darkened, ready to explode — but then the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs made everyone freeze.
Andrea appeared at the doorway, still a little unsteady but awake. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Dmitry.
The change in the man was instantaneous. The stone-cold commander melted away. His shoulders relaxed, and a warm, genuine smile spread across his face.
"RED," he said softly, using the old nickname only he used for her.
Andrea broke into a run and threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "You're here... I'm so happy, Dad."
Dmitry hugged her tightly, one hand gently stroking her hair. For that moment, he wasn't the fearsome leader of a secret society. He was just a father who had been terrified for his daughter.
Eunwoo, Minjoon, and Layla exchanged glances. Minjoon looked almost comically touched. Layla's eyes sparkled with quiet admiration. Even Eunwoo — usually so composed — had a small, genuine smile. He admired the real happiness radiating from Andrea. The kind that didn't need masks or missions.
Andrea pulled back just enough to look up at Dmitry, her voice still sleepy but bright. "So you're really here... It makes me so happy."
Dmitry chuckled, the sound warm and rare. "It's my daughter's wedding, right? Real or not, it doesn't matter." His eyes flicked toward Eunwoo with a knowing smirk. "Marriage is still marriage."
Eunwoo gave a small, slightly awkward laugh. "Heh... yes, sir. Marriage is still marriage."
Andrea grinned, then suddenly switched to the Turkish she knew would make the others curious. She looked at Dmitry with sparkling eyes and said softly, "Merhaba baba."
Dmitry's smile widened. He replied in the same language, voice gentle, "Merhaba kızım. Nasılsın?"
Layla's eyebrows shot up. She whispered to Minjoon, "Did she just... Turkish? What did she say?"
Minjoon shrugged, but his eyes were gleaming with mischief. "Something like 'hello dad.' And he called her 'my girl.' I think. They're doing that subtle parent-child thing again. It's cute... and kinda scary how smoothly he switches from terrifying boss to doting dad."
Eunwoo overheard and shot them both a warning look, but there was no real bite. He was still recovering from the earlier scolding.
Andrea, still tucked against Dmitry's side, laughed lightly. "They're trying to figure out what we're saying. Should we keep them guessing?"
Dmitry's eyes twinkled. "Let them. It's good for them to stay alert."
Layla couldn't hold it in anymore. She leaned toward Minjoon again, stage-whispering, "Okay but real talk — I never thought I'd see the day when Eunwoo-hyung gets lectured like a rookie. My entire worldview is shifting."
Minjoon nodded solemnly, though his lips were twitching. "Next time he tries to scold us for being five minutes late to a briefing, I'm just gonna say: 'Remember when Dmitry made you look like a guilty intern?'"
Eunwoo pinched the bridge of his nose. "You two are enjoying this way too much."
Andrea giggled from the safety of her father's arms. "They're not wrong, though. You do look a little... scolded."
Dmitry raised an eyebrow at Eunwoo, but the expression was far softer now. "She's right. Take better care of her next time."
"Yes, sir," Eunwoo replied, the respect clear in his voice.
The tension in the room had mostly dissolved, replaced by a strange but comforting mix of family warmth and lingering mission seriousness. Andrea looked around at all of them — her father, Eunwoo, Layla, Minjoon — and felt a quiet sense of safety despite everything that had happened.
Later, as the group slowly dispersed, Layla and Minjoon lingered in the hallway.
Layla nudged Minjoon. "Bet you ten bucks Eunwoo tries to get revenge by giving us extra training tomorrow."
Minjoon grinned. "I'll take that bet. But honestly? Worth it. Seeing him get properly told off was priceless."
From the living room, they could still hear Andrea's soft laughter and Dmitry's warm replies. The commander had returned to being just "Dad" for the night.
And somewhere in the background, Eunwoo allowed himself one small, private smile. Because even if he had been scolded like never before, Andrea was safe. She was happy. And that... that was worth every glare and every lecture.
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Dmitry kept one arm gently around Andrea's shoulders, his warm smile still in place even as his sharp eyes scanned the room. The earlier tension from the scolding had eased, but a playful edge now lingered in the air.
He looked at his daughter fondly and asked, "Did you get hungry on the way, kızım?"
Andrea leaned into him a little, still feeling the pleasant haze of relief after the medicine and rest. She gave a small nod. "A lil bit... yeah."
Eunwoo, who had been quietly standing nearby, stepped forward immediately. "Okay, sir. I'll prepare something for her."
He turned toward the kitchen, but before he could take more than two steps, Dmitry's voice stopped him.
"Oh? So you're going to make food for us tonight?"
Eunwoo paused mid-step, clearly caught off guard. He turned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uhm... if you want. I can tell the chef, or... I can prepare it myself."
Andrea's eyes widened slightly, a spark of surprise and amusement lighting up her face. "You can cook?"
The question came out softer than she intended, but it carried genuine curiosity. She could feel the subtle pressure between her godfather and Eunwoo — that careful distance, the power dynamic that made Eunwoo behave like an obedient son in front of Dmitry. Strangely, it made her happy. Seeing the usually commanding Eunwoo act this way felt... endearing.
Dmitry's lips curved into a knowing smirk. He tilted his head, clearly enjoying the moment. "If I want? Then yes. Go cook something delicious for us." He paused, then added with a pointed look, "And yeah, your assistants can help too. Layla, Minjoon — you're cooking with him."
Layla, who had been trying to stay quiet in the background, let out a soft chuckle. "Yes, sir," she said, though her voice carried a hint of playful suffering. She glanced sideways at Minjoon, who was already making a face like he'd been sentenced to hard labor.
Andrea couldn't help but smile wider as she watched her father tease Eunwoo so effortlessly. It was rare to see someone have this kind of hold over Eunwoo, and she secretly enjoyed every second of it.
Eunwoo gave a small, respectful nod. "Of course, sir. We'll make something good."
Minjoon muttered under his breath as he followed Layla toward the kitchen, "Great. First we get the helicopter ride from hell, then we get kitchen duty. This night keeps getting better."
Layla elbowed him lightly. "Shh. At least we get to watch Eunwoo play house husband. This is premium entertainment."
In the open-plan kitchen attached to the living area, the three of them got to work. Eunwoo moved with surprising confidence, pulling out ingredients with practiced ease. He started chopping vegetables while giving quiet instructions. Layla handled the seasoning station, and Minjoon was put in charge of the rice and side dishes — mostly because he was the least likely to burn anything.
Andrea sat at the island counter with Dmitry, her chin resting on her hand as she watched the scene unfold. The warm lights of the mansion made everything feel strangely domestic despite the earlier chaos of the mission and the blast.
Dmitry leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, observing with quiet amusement. Every now and then he would call out a comment.
"Make sure it's not too spicy, Eunwoo. My daughter still has a sensitive stomach after that medicine."
"Yes, sir," Eunwoo replied without missing a beat, adjusting the chili flakes he was about to add.
Layla whispered to Minjoon while stirring a sauce, "He's so... obedient. It's hilarious. Usually he's the one barking orders at us during training."
Minjoon grinned as he washed the rice. "Right? I'm saving this memory forever. Next time he scolds me for sloppy reconnaissance, I'm just gonna remind him of the night he became Chef Eunwoo under Daddy Dmitry's supervision."
Andrea overheard the whispering and laughed softly. "You two are terrible."
"But honest," Layla shot back with a wink. "Admit it, Andrea. Seeing him like this is kind of cute, right?"
Andrea's cheeks warmed a little, but she didn't deny it. She glanced at Eunwoo, who was carefully tasting the broth before adding more salt. There was something sweet about the way he was trying — really trying — to impress her father while also taking care of her.
Dmitry noticed her expression and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. In a low voice meant only for her, he murmured, "He listens well. That's a good sign. But he still has a lot to prove, kızım."
Andrea smiled and replied softly in Turkish, "Biliyorum, baba. Ama... o iyi biri." (I know, dad. But... he's a good one.)
Dmitry chuckled warmly. "We'll see."
As the aroma of garlic, herbs, and simmering broth filled the kitchen, the mood grew lighter. Minjoon accidentally knocked over a small bowl of chopped scallions, earning a quick glare from Eunwoo.
"Focus, Minjoon," Eunwoo said, the old commander tone slipping back for a second.
Minjoon saluted dramatically. "Yes, Chef!"
Layla burst into quiet laughter, nearly dropping her spoon. "See? Even in the kitchen he can't help being bossy."
Eunwoo sighed but there was a small, reluctant smile on his face. He plated the food with care — a fragrant chicken and vegetable stew, perfectly cooked rice, and some simple but elegant side dishes. When everything was ready, he carried the trays to the dining table himself.
" Dinner is served, sir," he said, placing the main dish in front of Dmitry and Andrea first.
Andrea's eyes sparkled as she looked at the food, then up at Eunwoo. "It smells amazing. Thank you."
Dmitry took a slow bite, chewed thoughtfully, and finally gave a single nod of approval. "Not bad. You pass... for tonight."
Eunwoo visibly relaxed a fraction, though he tried to hide it. Layla and Minjoon exchanged triumphant glances behind his back, barely containing their grins.
As they all sat down to eat together, Andrea felt a quiet warmth settle in her chest. The pressure between her godfather and Eunwoo was still there — that careful distance, the subtle testing — but beneath it was something almost familial. She was happy. Truly happy in this strange, complicated moment.
Dmitry caught her eye across the table and gave her a small, knowing smile, as if he could read every thought in her head.
And for the first time in a long while, the secret society leader, the obedient agent, the loyal assistants, and the daughter all shared a meal that felt surprisingly... normal.