By the time the first light crept over the skyline, the night had started to feel unreal.
Singapore mornings usually arrived clean and orderly soft gray sky, quiet streets, glass towers catching the first pale light. There was something comforting about dawn, like the world reset itself before the chaos began.
Inside Xinyue's apartment, nothing felt reset.
The air still carried traces of antiseptic, blood, and burnt coffee. Used gauze sat in a trash bag near the counter. Her couch- her poor, defenseless couch had been turned into a trauma station. And in the middle of it all sat Ryu Taehyun, bleeding less now, but still radiating enough danger to make the room feel smaller.
Dojin stood near the door, speaking quietly into an earpiece before pulling it out. He looked calm, but unlike Taehyun's cold stillness, his carried a restless edge like he was always prepared for something to go wrong.
Xinyue stood in the center of the room, arms folded tightly. She wasn't sure if she was more angry, exhausted, or horrified.
"Both of you are leaving," she said finally. "Preferably before my neighbors decide I'm running an illegal clinic."
Dojin's mouth twitched. Taehyun just looked at her.
"We are," he said.
That should have made her feel relieved.
It didn't. Something about the night refused to settle into a clean ending. Him leaving didn't feel like closure it felt like the beginning of something she didn't understand yet.
She hated that feeling.
"Good," she said. "Then get up carefully and take your apocalypse with you."
Dojin let out a quiet laugh.
Taehyun's gaze stayed on her. "You're tired."
She stared at him. "That is such an annoying thing to say to someone who saved your life."
"It's still true."
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a dull heaviness.
"I know it's true. That's not the point."
Taehyun pushed himself to his feet. The movement was controlled, but not effortless. She noticed immediately the tightening in his jaw, the careful shift in weight.
"You shouldn't be standing that fast," she said.
"I'm standing."
"That's not the same as 'you should be.'"
He didn't react, but something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, maybe.
He reached for the couch for balance subtle, but she saw it.
"Wait," she said, stepping closer.
Both men looked at her.
"Sit down for thirty seconds."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Are you five?"
One of Dojin's brows lifted.
Taehyun studied her for a moment. "You're very comfortable arguing with me."
"That's because you keep saying stupid things while injured."
A beat of silence. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sat back down. Dojin looked surprised. So was she, but she ignored it.
She crouched in front of him, checking the bandage. The room quieted. She became aware of everything the warmth of his skin, the stillness in him, the faint scent of smoke and something expensive.
The dressing held, but not perfectly. A fresh stain had formed.
She looked up. He was already watching her.
That was becoming a problem.
"You're not fine," she said quietly.
"I didn't say I was."
"No, you just imply it in a deeply arrogant way."
Something shifted in his gaze. "Will I make it downstairs?" he asked.
The bluntness caught her off guard.
"Yes," she said. "Probably. But I wouldn't recommend anything dramatic."
Dojin stepped closer. "Can he walk?"
"He can," Xinyue said. "Whether he should is another matter."
"He has to."
"I assumed that from the armed men outside and the general bad decisions."
Dojin almost smiled. Taehyun didn't.
"Give me something stronger for the pain," Taehyun said.
"No."
His brow shifted. "No?"
"No."
"Doctor?"
"No," she repeated. "If I give you something strong and something goes wrong, you'll ignore it until you collapse somewhere worse."
Dojin glanced down, likely hiding a reaction.
Taehyun leaned back, studying her. "You assume I'd ignore it."
"I don't assume. I've met you."
That earned the faintest trace of a smile. She went to the kitchen, grabbed water and mild medication, and returned.
"This is what you get."
He took it without argument, which somehow unsettled her more.
"You could at least pretend to be difficult," she muttered.
"I think you already know what to expect."
The words lingered longer than they should have.
Dojin moved to the window, lifting the curtain slightly. "They're rotating."
Xinyue turned sharply. "Rotating?"
"Switching positions. They'll expect us to move at first light."
Her mouth went dry. "You say that like it's normal."
Neither man answered. Silence filled the room again. Then her phone buzzed.
All three looked at it. She grabbed it quickly.
Yuerin.
Of course.
"What?" she answered.
"That is a terrible greeting," Yuerin said. "Also, why do you sound like you've committed a felony?"
"I've had a long night."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting before coffee."
A pause. "Did something happen after?"
Xinyue stared at the wall.
Yes.
Too many things.
"I'm fine," she said.
"Xinyue."
"I'm alive."
"That wasn't the question."
"It's the important one."
She could practically hear Yuerin putting on her shoes.
"I'm coming over."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I said no."
"That has never reassured me."
Xinyue glanced over her shoulder. Taehyun was watching her. Not intruding, just observing.
"Please," she said softly. "Just go to work. I'll call you later."
A long pause.
"If you don't call me in one hour, I'm breaking in. I waited enough."
"That's not legal."
"Neither is whatever is happening with you."
Xinyue hung up before she had to explain further. When she turned back, Taehyun was still watching her.
"She cares about you," he said.
"I know. She's my best friend."
He nodded, like he was filing that away.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"That… remembering things thing."
"I remember useful things."
"That sounds threatening."
"It wasn't meant to."
That didn't help.
Dojin turned. "We need to go."
This time, no one argued. Taehyun stood again, slower now. She noticed everything the stiffness, the controlled breathing.
"Wait," she said.
He looked down at her. She reached out, adjusting his shirt collar to hide the bandage. For a second, both of them went still. The air shifted.
"There," she said quickly, pulling her hand back. "You look less like you survived a knife fight."
Dojin made a choking sound that might've been laughter.
Taehyun looked at her a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you."
It sounded sincere.
"Don't make me regret this," she muttered.
"I think that already happened."
She shot him a look. "You're learning."
Dojin cracked the door, checked the hallway. "Clear."
Taehyun moved toward it, then stopped.
He turned back to her. She hadn't expected that pause. Not the way he looked at her, like something unfinished lingered between them.
"You should lock the door after us," he said.
That was all.
And yet it felt like more.
"Glad to know you still like giving orders," she said.
A flicker of something warm crossed his expression. "You don't listen to most of them."
"No."
A beat.
"I noticed."
Then he left. Dojin followed. Their footsteps faded down the stairwell.
Xinyue shut the door and locked it, her hands less steady than she liked. Silence filled the apartment instantly.
Heavy. Wrong.
She stood there for a moment, listening.
Nothing.
Just morning.
She turned slowly, taking in the mess the blood, the overturned cushions, the empty glass. Proof it had all happened. Her body gave out all at once. She sat on the couch, his place and covered her face. This was bad. Because he was gone.
And somehow, that didn't feel like relief. It felt like the kind of silence a storm leaves behind before it comes back.
She stood and began cleaning. Mechanical movements. Something to do instead of thinking. But when she picked up the blanket, something small slipped out and hit the floor with a soft metallic sound.
She froze.
Then crouched.
A cufflink.
Black enamel. Silver edge. Heavy. Expensive.
Of course.
Of course he'd left something behind.
She stared at it, then closed her fingers around it. Cold metal warming in her palm.
For a moment, she considered throwing it away.
Instead, she stood there in the pale morning light, holding it while the city carried on outside.
A cufflink.
A name.
A night she couldn't undo.
And the quiet, sinking realization.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.