My mystical boy Hyunjin~

The days bled together after that.
Felix went through the motions—reports, briefings, endless coffee in cracked mugs—but his mind kept circling back to that warehouse. To Hyunjin.

He told himself it was about the case. About justice.
But lies, even the small ones, had a way of showing their seams.

Every night he dreamed of rain. Of shadows that looked like him. Of hands that never quite touched.

Then the department got a new lead.
A face caught on a security camera near a private dock in the harbor. Blurry, but unmistakable. Hyunjin.

Felix stared at the still frame until his vision blurred. He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t share it with his partner.
He just drove.

The pier was half-abandoned, the smell of salt and oil heavy in the air. Crates stacked high like tombstones. The water slapped softly against the wood.
And there—by the farthest post—stood Hyunjin.

No gun drawn. No fear. Just waiting.

“You came,” Hyunjin said.

Felix’s voice was rough. “You wanted me to.”

“I wasn’t sure you would.”

“You knew I would.”

Hyunjin smiled faintly, but his eyes held that same quiet exhaustion. “You should have turned me in when you had the chance.”

“I still can.”

“You won’t.”

The words hung between them, heavy and true.

Felix stepped closer. “Another body showed up last night. Same mark.”

Hyunjin flinched, just barely. “That one wasn’t me.”

“Convenient.”

“I’m not lying.”

Something in the way he said it—flat, steady, honest—made Felix’s throat tighten. He wanted to believe him. God, he did.

“Someone’s using your name,” Felix said. “Your methods. Maybe someone from before.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tensed. “Then they’re finishing what I couldn’t.”

“Which is?”

He met Felix’s gaze. “Erasing the people who built me.”

The silence after that was colder than the wind coming off the water.

Felix’s hand went to his holster, but not to draw—just to feel something solid, something real. “You’re saying there’s someone else.”

Hyunjin nodded once. “And if you keep chasing me, you’ll find them too.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Maybe.”

For a long time, neither moved. The night pressed close around them, salt biting the air, rain threatening again.

Then Hyunjin said quietly, “You could walk away. Pretend this never happened.”

Felix shook his head. “Too late for that.”

Hyunjin’s expression softened—just slightly. “Then you’re already part of it.”

“Part of what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a step forward, close enough that Felix could see the faint tremor in his fingers. “You keep trying to save me,” he murmured, “but maybe you’re the one who needs saving.”

Felix swallowed hard. “From what?”

Hyunjin’s voice dropped, barely audible. “From me.”

Before Felix could respond, Hyunjin turned and slipped into the mist, disappearing between the stacks of crates.

Felix didn’t follow. Not right away.

He stood there until the rain began again, cold and relentless, washing the salt from his lips and the warmth from his skin.

Only then did he realize—
Hyunjin had left something on the ground where he’d been standing.

A small silver drive.

Felix picked it up, turning it in his palm. The rain blurred the etched letters on its surface: Project Meridian.

He pocketed it, heart pounding.

Maybe Hyunjin hadn’t just been running.
Maybe he’d been trying to lead him somewhere.

And for the first time, Felix wondered if catching him would mean saving him—
or losing himself completely.