"To the girl who was marked to die-
And the version of himself that did."
Y/N didn't ask for this.
It was supposed to be a girls' trip. A few days of laughter, beaches, and blurry memories.
But somewhere between the airport terminal and the baggage...
The door stayed chained. Her eyes flicked to the box. No labels. No logos. Just a neat brown rectangle. Something about that bothered her.
"Could you leave it at the door?" she asked.
"Of course," he said, nodding with a politeness that felt oddly old-fashioned.
He placed it down gently, nodded once again, and left. Didn't linger. Didn't peek in. Just walked away.
She didn't open the box that day.
She stood behind the door long after he left. Watching the shadow the package made through the gap beneath. Her skin prickled. Her mind wouldn't shut up.
She didn't know that Taehyung had been ordered to get closer. That Leila's disappearance had confirmed something bigger than anyone expected. That she was now under surveillance-not just by the ones who wanted to kill her, but by those who wanted to protect their secrets. And he? He wasn't just a man with a parcel. He was the man sent to quietly tether himself to her-until the decision was made.
To silence her.
But for now, he was nothing but a stranger with a calm smile.
And that... was exactly the point.
It had been three days since the parcel.
Y-N hadn't touched it. She'd let it sit, untouched, by the shoe rack-like it was some silent bomb that might explode if she looked at it wrong. Every time she walked past it, she felt it watching her. It had no return address, no mark of origin. Just brown paper and black string.
And now, life was pretending to return to normal.
Or maybe it was forcing her to pretend. She had to step outside today. Groceries. Water. Air. Something to make her believe she was still part of a world that hadn't begun to quietly unravel beneath her feet.
The hallway of her apartment felt unusually quiet as she walked toward the elevator. She barely glanced at the faded mirror panel inside as the metallic doors slid open with a sigh. Her feet stepped in, mind far away, finger reaching for the ground floor button-
"Wait, hold the door?"
A voice. Warm. Masculine. Polite, but not overly formal. She turned, surprised.
There he was.
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The man from the parcel.
Hair styled effortlessly. Loose beige shirt, sleeves rolled up just below the elbows. Casual, not careless. Something about the way he moved felt practiced, yet unbothered. Like someone who never had to rush.
She stepped aside instinctively, holding the door open with her hand.
"Thanks," he said with a smile, pressing the button for Floor 31.
She froze for a moment. 31?
He blinked, as though catching her thoughts. " You're 13A, right?"
"...Yeah."
"I'm 31A. Swapped numbers. I saw your name on the tag when I came home. Figured the delivery guy just got a little dyslexic."
She felt her heart slow. So it wasn't some orchestrated creepiness. Just an honest mistake. Maybe.
He smiled again. "Kim Taehyung, by the way."
She hesitated for a second. Then-"Y-N."
His voice dropped into something more casual, comfortable. "Nice to finally meet the mysterious neighbor downstairs."
"You've lived here long?"
He nodded. "Two years. Mostly keep to myself."
The elevator was still rising. Slowly. Smoothly. It felt like the space between them held a different kind of weight.
"I own an art gallery downtown," he added, as if trying to make the silence easier. "Mostly modern pieces, independent creators. Ever visit 'Studio Haven'?"
She thought for a second. "I've seen the name. Haven't been inside."
"You should," he said. "We're doing a monochrome theme this month. Stark. A little cold, but weirdly intimate. Kinda like winter in a frame."
Y-N found herself nodding, even smiling faintly. "Sounds... intense."
"It is," he said softly. "But not in a bad way."
The elevator dinged-Floor 13. Her stop.
She stepped out, turning to look back at him for a second. "Thanks for the delivery. And... for not opening it."
He tilted his head. "Not my name on the box."
The doors slid shut between them.
She stood in the corridor for a moment longer, unsure why her heart was beating the way it was.
There was something about him.
Not dangerous. Not obviously. But still... something.
