Lina didn't move.
She stood with her arms crossed, feet planted, chin lifted. The gate's rusty hinge creaked in the wind. Her coat was buttoned wrong—second button in the third hole. She'd put it on in a hurry.
Kin stopped ten feet away.
The disguise was still active. Jan Koval's face. Wider jaw. Shorter nose. Scar on the eyebrow. But his clothes were torn. His shoulder was dark with blood. His thigh had a hole in it that he could see through.
She doesn't know it's me, he thought. She thinks I'm a stranger. A wounded stranger at her gate at 2 AM.
He should turn around. Walk away. Come back as himself in an hour.
But his leg wouldn't carry him further.
"You're bleeding," Lina said.
Her voice was flat. Not concerned. Not scared. Just... flat.
"I'm fine," Kin said. Jan's voice was deeper than his. Rougher. He'd practiced it in his head. "Wrong house. I'll go."
He turned.
"Kin."
He froze.
She said his name. Not Jan. Kin.
He turned back. Her eyes were locked on his. The disguise didn't matter. She'd known anyway.
"You walk like him. You limp like him. And you smell like him." She stepped closer. "The detergent. The one I gave you."
Kin's heart cracked.
"I've been waiting for two hours," she said. "I woke up. You were gone. The bed was warm. Your side of the pillow was still pressed down." Her voice cracked. "I thought you left. For good."
"I didn't—"
"Shut up." She grabbed his arm—the good one—and pulled him toward the gate. "Inside. Now. Before someone sees you."
***
She didn't take him to his apartment.
She took him to hers.
The door closed behind them. The lock clicked. Lina pushed him onto the couch—the same couch where they'd watched the thriller, where she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder.
"Sit," she said. "Don't move."
She disappeared into the bathroom. Kin heard cabinets opening. Water running. She came back with a towel, a bowl of warm water, bandages, and antiseptic.
"Take off your shirt," she said ,not kindly.
He did. The wounds were still open—ugly, raw, bleeding through his clothes. Lina's jaw tightened. She soaked the towel and began cleaning the shoulder wound. He winced.
"Hold still."
"I am still."
"You're shaking."
He hadn't noticed.
She worked in silence. The antiseptic burned. The bandages pulled tight. She didn't ask questions. Her hands were steady, but her breathing was shallow.
When she finished, she sat on the coffee table in front of him. Close enough that her knees touched his. Her eyes were red. She'd been crying.
"Where did you go?" she asked.
Kin looked away. "I had something to do."
"At midnight?"
"It couldn't wait."
"What couldn't wait, Kin?" Her voice rose. "You left. While I was asleep. In my bed. You just... disappeared."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't an answer."
He took a breath. The lie came out smoother than he expected.
"I went to the bank. To make a deposit. The money from my freelance job—I wanted to put it somewhere safe." He paused. "On the way back, I was attacked."
"Attacked by who?"
"I don't know. They weren't normal thugs. They had guns. They knew where I was going."
Lina's eyes narrowed. "The Quiet Commission."
"Maybe. I don't know."
She stared at him. Her gaze was sharp—too sharp.
"You're lying," she said.
"I'm not."
"Your left eye twitches when you lie. It's twitching now."
Kin blinked. He hadn't known that.
"Kin." She leaned closer. Her voice dropped. "I woke up at midnight. You weren't there. I looked out the window and saw you running down the street so fast,not even walking. Running. Like something was chasing you. Or like you were chasing something."
He said nothing.
"I waited at the gate for two hours. Two hours, Kin. In the cold. Because I thought you might come back. Or that you wouldn't. And I needed to know which."
"Lina—"
"I don't care about the money. I don't care about the bank. I care that you left without a word. That you put on a different face and tried to walk past me ." Her voice cracked again. "I let you into my home. I made you dumplings. I fell asleep in your arms. And you left."
The guilt hit him like a punch.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm not good at this."
"At what?"
"At... being around people. At staying."
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "That's obvious."
They sat in silence. The clock on her wall ticked. 2:17 AM.
Then Lina said, "Tell me the truth. The real truth."
Kin's heart pounded.
She'll hate me, he thought. She'll throw me out. She'll call the Commission herself.
But she was sitting there, waiting, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes tired and red.
"I'm an assassin," he said.
The words hung in the air.
Lina didn't flinch. Didn't gasp. Didn't reach for her phone.
"I suspected. When the Quiet Commission came. When you had money. When you came home bloody." She shook her head. "I didn't want to believe it. But I knew."
"Then why did you let me stay?"
She looked at him like he was stupid.
"Because you're not a bad person, Kin. You're just... lost. And maybe I'm lost too. Maybe lost people need to find each other."
He didn't know what to say to that.
"The general," she said. "The one on the news. That was you."
He nodded.
"The bank director tonight?"
He nodded again.
She let out a long breath. "How many?"
"Two. That's all. I just started."
"Just started." She laughed—bitter, exhausted. "You just started killing people. And you think that's something I can just... accept?"
"No. I don't think that."
"Then what do you think?"
Kin looked at his hands. They were clean now. Lina had washed the blood off.
"I think you should kick me out," he said. "I think you should call the police. I think you should forget you ever met me."
"But you're still here."
"You're still here."
She reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were cold.
"I'm not going to kick you out," she said. "I'm not going to call anyone. But I'm not going to pretend this is normal, either."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Good." She squeezed his hand. "Because I'm still angry. You left. In the middle of the night. Without telling me. And you expect me to just... be okay with that?"
"No."
"I'm not okay with it."
"I know."
She let go of his hand and stood up. Walked to the window. Looked out at the empty street.
"You're staying here tonight," she said. "On the couch. Not in my bed. You're going to sleep. And tomorrow, we're going to talk about what happens next."
"Lina—"
"Not tonight, Kin. I'm too tired to be angry properly." She turned to face him. Her expression was hard, but her eyes were soft. "The blanket is in the closet. Don't bleed on my rug."
She walked to her bedroom. Paused at the door.
"And Kin?"
"Yeah?"
"If you leave again without telling me, I will find you. And I will make you regret it."
She closed the door.
Kin lay back on the couch. His wounds ached. His head ached. His heart ached.
But she hadn't thrown him out.
[System Notification – Hidden from Lina]
[Lina Trust Level: 31%. She knows you are an assassin. She is angry but committed.]
[Warning: Lies create cracks. Cracks grow. Proceed carefully.]
[Next mission in: 166 hours, 10 minutes.]
Kin pulled the blanket from the closet. It smelled like her.
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow we talk.
He slept.