???? ???? ???? (EN- REVERSE HAREM)

Jungwon stepped out of the car, his cap pulled low over his face. The streets of Esplanade bustled around him, the late morning air thick with the scent of spices and the murmur of distant conversations. He exhaled sharply, turning back to Heeseung and Jake, who were still inside the vehicle.

"Just wait here, hyung" he told them. "I won't take long. It'll be quick."

Jake raised a brow. "You sure you don't want to wear a mask?"

"It's just for a few minutes," Jungwon reassured him, already stepping away. "No one's going to recognize me."

Heeseung didn't look convinced but didn't argue. "Fine. Be quick."

Jungwon nodded and made his way towards the small shop, the scent of old paper and wooden shelves filling his senses. He didn't expect anything out of the ordinary. He certainly didn't expect what came next.

The door pushed open as he stepped inside. A gust of air swept in with him, stirring the dust motes floating in the morning light. His eyes immediately landed on someone standing at the counter, their posture tense, their hands gripping a camera. He barely had time to register who it was before she turned.

And then, his stomach dropped.

Anvi.

She was holding the camera—the camera that held the pictures. The evidence.

Jungwon's breath caught. His heart pounded, but his face remained still, carefully controlled. He saw her eyes widen in shock, her mouth parting slightly as if struggling to form words. He didn't need to hear them to know what she was thinking.

She might be checking the camera, right? The man had probably called her to pick it up and both of them didn't got me on the call. Jay hyung must have missed that there were two Indian numbers.

His gaze flickered downward, catching the faint glow of the camera screen still illuminated. The images were right there. Everything he had kept hidden, everything he had tried to conceal, all displayed in the palm of her hands.

Damn it.

Before she could see the pictures, I should make it quick.

She tried to speak, stumbling over the weight of her own realization, but Jungwon didn't let her finish. He turned to the shopkeeper instead, keeping his voice steady. "How much?" He pulled out the money and placed it on the counter without waiting for change. There was no time for that. He had to act now. Fast.

Without a word, he reached out, grasping her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough that she wouldn't resist—and pried the camera from her hands.

"Wait—" she tried to protest, but he was already walking, already pulling her out of the shop, his grip unwavering.

The city blurred past them as he led her into a narrow alley, the din of traffic and distant voices fading behind them. He didn't stop until they reached the far end, hidden from view. Only then did he release her, his breathing steady despite the turmoil in his mind.

The camera felt heavy in his hands. The picture staring back at him was her smiling in the garden. She must have seen only these pictures. Not the others. Nothing more. He stared at it for a second too long, then, before he could second-guess himself, it slipped from his fingers.

He clearly and audibly enough heard her voice muttering his real name — Jungown — not Jaan — Jungwon.

Shit.

A loud thud echoed against the alley walls as it hit the ground. Neither of them moved to pick it up.

Jungwon's mind raced. This was bad. This was worse than he had anticipated. She knew his identity, she had proof, and now—