Of all the places that crossed Amélie's mind when she heard the detective inviting her out, the scene before her was the only one that didn't come to her head.

She swept the room with her gaze. Raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips showed just how surprised she was. She also felt a bit foolish, as the large bag Na-moo had slung over his shoulders since he parked the car outside the building, and took out of the trunk, was a subtle hint of what she should expect.

The fluorescent lights reflected on the red walls of the gym and on the sweat trickling down the temples of men and women of various ages spread across the dark floor, training strikes, sparring, or working on punching bags. In a ring at the back, there was a young man with black, wavy hair that reached his chin. When his eyes landed on the newcomers, a smile spread across his cheeks.

The young man signaled to the young woman he was training with, asking for a moment before leaping off the platform.

“Bro!” he exclaimed, heading towards the two with a wide grin. “You came!”

The man from the ring flexed his right arm, greeting the detective—the gesture made the shirt he was wearing seem too tight for his well-built biceps.

“I said I'd come, didn't I?” Na-moo grinned widely, returning his friend's embrace. “This is Derick Kwan, the owner of this gym,” he said, turning to Amélie.

Derick shifted his dark eyes to the petite woman standing beside the gym's oldest client and greeted her with a polite nod. “You must be Amélie. It's a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for not greeting you properly, but I'm too sweaty to touch a lady I've just met,” Derick scratched his neck, embarrassed.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, too.”

“But me, you can hug, can't you?!” Na-moo sounded appalled, and Derick laughed.

“We've known each other for years, I think it's enough to say we don’t need any formalities, bro!” Derick turned to Amélie with a friendly smile. “I hope you can learn something training with this guy. He's pretty good, just not better than me,” he slipped his hand into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a silver key with distinct teeth. “You can use my personal studio, you know where it is, right, Moo?”

“Of course. Thanks, Rick.”

Na-moo patted his friend's shoulders twice, then Derick shifted his focus back to the woman waiting in the ring. Now with the key in his pants pocket, the detective gestured toward the left corridor, a path Amélie hadn't noticed until that moment.

“How did you meet him?” She asked, curious as they entered the corridor.

Derick seemed too young to have already studied with the detective, and to own a martial arts gym. However, from his athletic physique and the way he instructed the woman in the ring, it was obvious he'd been training for a long time—perhaps since adolescence.

“This gym used to belong to Derick's grandfather. The Kwans also have a shooting club on the two basement floors. I've always been interested in martial arts and target shooting, that's how we met. After everything that happened with my father and…”

Na-moo left the sentence hanging and cleared his throat. Amélie nodded slowly, looking down the corridor ahead. She understood what he meant all too well.

She watched the rain through the windows on the right-hand side of the hallway.  Then she looked at the detective again and asked, “So… this is where you wanted to bring me?”

“Yes,” he nodded without taking his eyes off the corridor. “I've been thinking, last night… we're dealing with someone dangerous. Hector and I are trained to handle dangerous situations, but you're not. So, I thought it would be a good idea to teach you some self-defense moves.”

“Do you think I'm in danger?”

“Don't we all run some risk?” Na-moo smiled faintly, glancing at her. “When you work in criminal investigation, or in the legal field, you put your life on the line. You never know what kind of lunatic might cross your path. Even less so those who hold a grudge against you.”

“But I'm a psychologist, not a lawyer or a judge.”

“You're a psychologist working in the forensic field and are able to identify individuals who could be dangerous if they're free to live in society. In addition to aiding in the sentencing of criminals with your behavioral analysis.”

“You have a point, I can't even argue.”

Amélie nodded. To think that she’d believed she would end up on a cliché romantic date before leaving the house, just like Winnie and Hector Brown… She could already imagine her friend's baffled expression when she explained Na-moo's motives for asking her out that morning.

Once again, Amélie was grateful for following her own instincts in choosing an outfit, rather than heeding Winnie's advice—jeans and a halter top never failed, no matter the situation.

A smile tugged at Na-moo's full lips as he heard her let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping and her chin wrinkling. It was amazing how expressive Amélie could be when something bothered her. Or perhaps she simply didn't want to conceal her dashed expectations.

He stopped as they reached the end of the hallway and inserted the skeleton key into the solid wooden door.

“This isn't the only place I had in mind to take you today,” Na-moo said as he opened the door and closed it behind him after she entered.

In contrast to the main hall, this one had an entire wall made of smoked glass, where the heavy drops ran even harder than when they were in the hallway. Amélie glanced briefly at the gray weather before turning to Na-moo, her whiskey-brown eyes fixed on him.

“This isn't our only stop?”

“No, I also believe you should learn to shoot. You never know when you may need to use a pistol. So, the basement is our next destination.”

Na-moo tossed the bag onto the bench against the wall near the entrance. A discreet smile lifted his cheeks as he saw Amélie huffing out of the corner of his eye.

“Put this on,” he said, pulling out two loose-fitting pieces from inside the bag.

She stared at the clothes extended towards her, her brow furrowed.

“It won't be comfortable to train in jeans, and we might end up sweating too much. There's a bathroom right there,” Na-moo pointed to the gray door next to the glass walls. “You can go change there, and I'll change here. We can also use the shower to freshen up and get rid of the sweat when we're done.”

“You really thought of everything, huh?! Do you believe this will fit me?” The crease between her eyebrows deepened as she examined the loose-fitting linen pants, which, in addition to being loose, were in a men's size.

Na-moo tilted his head to the side, holding his chin with his index finger and thumb. His brown-coffee eyes roamed over the doctor's curves, causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach when he bit his lower lip.

“You can adjust the elastic. I know you find me too hot, but I'm sure the clothes will fit you perfectly.”

Amélie coughed, choking. Her face turned a deep shade of red.

A small smile curved Na-moo lips as he asked, “You remembered the kiss, but not what you said before kissing me?”

“I-I'll go change!” With burning cheeks, Amélie gasped and hurried to the bathroom. 

On her way, she almost knocked over one of Derick's punching bags, so frantic were her heartbeats. She didn't dare look back, knowing the detective's eyes were on her—she could feel his gaze glued to her back until she closed the door.

Yes, she remembered what she had said before kissing him, but ignoring it seemed like the best option since he hadn't brought up the subject…

Amélie should have known that Na-moo wouldn't let that pass without teasing her.

✛✛

Na-moo was in the middle of the mat when Amélie emerged from the bathroom, tying her wavy locks into a ponytail. Just as she imagined, the black linen pants he wore fit him exceptionally well, as did the loose tank top that showed off the muscles in his toned arms.

As soon as she joined him, the detective taught her some basic principles of self-defense, emphasizing the importance of always targeting vulnerable areas of the human body if someone were to try to attack her—hitting areas like the nose, throat, eyes, and groin would buy her time to escape from the assaulter.

After demonstrating the correct way to close the fist to throw a punch without hurting one's own hand, using the knuckles of the index and middle fingers to strike the target with the dominant hand; Na-moo positioned himself in front of Amélie. The tips of his bare feet touched hers, whose nails were painted red.

“Let's start with basic strikes and attacks that often happen when the aggressor is a man and the target is a woman. Even if the aggressor is stronger and taller, you can take them down by hitting the right area. I'll play the role of the aggressor and tell you how to react, so I want you to do as I say.”

Amélie nodded, forming an 'okay' sign with her index finger and thumb, along with a wink.

Na-moo raised his hands and wrapped his arms around her in a controlled hug—not squeezing too tight to hurt her, but preventing her from moving.

“If someone grabs you like this against your will, interlock your hands to keep distance between your body and the aggressor's,” Amélie lowered her gaze and intertwined her hands, as instructed. “Then use your forehead to strike his nose.”

“Should I headbutt you?”

Na-moo laughed.

“You can just pretend, without using too much force, please.”

“I think it won't be necessary.” She shook her head. “Can we move on to the next step?”

“Alright. So, when you hit him on the nose, and he backs away in pain,” Na-moo released her and stepped back, “give a knee strike to the groin.” He raised his knee to demonstrate. “The aggressor won't be able to chase you after that. Ready to give it a try?”

“Um… Can't we move on to the next 'attack' and then test everything at once?”

Na-moo didn't respond. Instead, he tilted his head and locked his brown-coffee eyes with Amélie's. He placed his hands on her shoulders. He leaned forward, his slender fingers slid gently up to her neck, his face coming closer to hers. Their breaths mingled. There were only a few inches between them.

Amélie swallowed hard as she felt the detective's thumbs lightly caress the skin of her throat. His Adam's apple moved slowly under her piercing gaze when he closed his hands around her neck with such gentleness that she almost laughed.

“I'm not intimidated by you, Na-moo,” she whispered.

Amélie's breath smelled of peach tea, and her locks carried the scent of roses. Na-moo raised an eyebrow, leaning in even closer.

“Pretend it's not me. Because in this kind of situation, where someone tries to attack you like this, you should use your hands to strike the aggressor in the groin with all the force you can muster.”

With her gaze locked onto Na-moo's, Amélie raised her left hand. Her fingers slid slowly along the detective's muscular thighs, brushing against his groin in a subtle tease. She didn't need to look down to notice that the bulge in the detective's pants was even more pronounced when he swallowed hard with a slight tremor in his chin. Still, she stole a discreet glance before returning her eyes to his once more.

“Like this?”

“A-Amélie…”

Na-moo's ragged breath brushed loose strands of her hair. Her whiskey-colored eyes stared at him with such intensity that his heartbeat sounded like a jackhammer in his ears. Na-moo threaded his fingers from his right hand through the strands tied in Amélie's ponytail, while the fingers of his left hand slid down to her waist.

The desire coursing through him dominated his thoughts, and he couldn't help but think of how badly he wanted to taste Amélie's lips since the night they had shared drinks in his apartment. Seeing her run her tongue over her full lips, her gaze fixed on his mouth, made him conclude that Amélie desired the same...