Huff... He exhaled, trying to regulate his breathing. His vision was still hazy at the edges, but he’d gotten used to working through worse.

That’s when a voice broke the quiet behind him.

“You okay?”

Won froze. The voice was casual, but it didn’t belong here. It wasn’t the kind of voice that passed through places like this without purpose.

His eyes widened as the words registered—and something else hit his senses.

Cigarettes?

His body went rigid. The smell curled through the damp alley like a warning. Cold crawled up the back of his neck, sharp and instinctive.

Every hair on his body just stood up…

He turned his head slowly, his shoulders tense, his jaw tight. He didn’t like surprises, and he really didn’t like being caught off guard when he was already weak.

Three figures stood at the mouth of the alley. Not boys. Not quite men either. Somewhere in between—old enough to be dangerous, young enough to think they were invincible. The one in the middle stood just a little ahead of the others. Confident. Relaxed. Like the whole alley belonged to him.

Won’s eyes locked on the one in front.

He straightened slightly, masking his discomfort with irritation.

“Do I look okay?” he snapped, voice dry.

The leader didn’t flinch. He just shrugged in that infuriatingly casual way, his cigarette dangling lazily between two fingers.

“No,” he said simply.

Won narrowed his eyes. He was in no mood for games.

Is he a gangster? he wondered, sizing him up. Clean clothes. Sharp stare. The kind of smirk that said he wasn’t here for charity. Definitely trouble.

“Then I’m leaving,” Won muttered, stepping away from the bench, hoping his body would cooperate enough not to betray the shake in his knees.

But something about the guy—the way he shifted slightly in his stance—said he wasn’t going to let Won just walk away.

Not yet.

---

The stranger took a step forward, hands still buried in his pockets. “Are you sick?”

The question again. This time softer, but somehow more piercing.

Won paused. “What…?”

“Is it that shocking to ask?” the guy replied, tilting his head like he genuinely didn’t understand the defensiveness.

Won scowled. Is this some kind of trick? A setup? “What do you think?”

The guy didn’t miss a beat. “its not what I think it's what I'm seeing...”

Won stared at him, growing more annoyed. " Your right.....and it's non of your business.”

There was no sarcasm in the guy’s face—just a kind of cool bluntness that didn’t match the setting.

“So… you’re telling me you can’t even manage to get medicine for yourself?” he said, voice steady but now more serious. Less casual, more... assessing.

Won stiffened.

He’s watching me. Not just talking—watching.

His voice was low, wary. “What do you want?”

The guy’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t raise his voice. “Nothing. I just..... don’t think you live alone.”

The silence after those words was deafening.

Won’s eyes widened just slightly, but it was enough. His body betrayed him for a second—a flicker of hesitation, of alarm. He quickly masked it, but the damage was done.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice tighter now, quieter.

Rocky didn’t smile, didn’t press. But his gaze didn’t waver either.

Won knew then—this guy was dangerous. Not in a loud, violent way. No, this was the quiet kind of dangerous. The kind that knew how to see what others hid.

The alley still reeked of cigarette smoke, the tension growing thicker with each word exchanged. Won could feel the damp in his clothes, the pulse in his ears. But more than that—he felt watched.

“Who are you living with?” the stranger asked, voice low but pressing. He hadn’t moved, but it felt like the question itself had closed the distance between them.

Won’s body tensed. He took a step back, eyes narrowing, anger rising like fire through his chest.

“The fuck…is your problem?”

The stranger’s expression changed instantly—his eyes darkened, and his tone dropped even lower.

“Don’t swear at me...if you’re not going to answer.”He said codly

Won looked away for a second, his confidence wavering. The weight of the guy’s gaze was unbearable. He’s so scary, Won thought bitterly, shoulders stiff.

“…My little brother,” he muttered.

For a moment, silence again. Then the stranger raised an eyebrow and gave a smirk that was more observation than mockery.

“A caring brother, huh? That explains a lot.”

Won didn’t respond. He didn’t like where this was going—didn’t like that this stranger had managed to dig into something he’d worked so hard to keep hidden. He turned sharply, ready to end this nonsense.

“If you’re done, I’m leaving,” he said coldly.

But the guy’s voice followed him like a shadow.

“Wait.”

Won turned, jaw tight. “What now?”

The man—Rocky, though Won didn’t know his name yet—held out something between his fingers. A folded bill.

“Take this.”

Won stared at the money, unsure if he was offended or just confused. Money?

“I didn’t ask for this,” he said slowly.

Rocky’s voice didn’t shift. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

There was no aggression, no overt threat. But the words dropped with weight. Something final.

Won scowled and snatched the money, eyes narrowed.

“Fine. But promise you’ll let me go after this?”

Rocky smirked again, more amused than threatening this time. “Maybe.”

Won glared, turned, and walked off without another word. Each step felt heavier than the last, like the interaction had shaken something loose inside him.

This guy…! Won clenched the money in his hand.

Behind him, Rocky remained where he was, watching the him retreat with unreadable eyes. A faint smirk played on his lips.

Won’s figure grew smaller in the distance, shoulders hunched, fists shoved into his coat pockets. He didn’t look back once.

Rocky stood still, unmoving, hands still tucked lazily into his own pockets. But his eyes… they followed every step Won took.

He’s definitely hiding something, he thought.

Without shifting his gaze, Rocky spoke quietly. “James.”

A man who had been lingering in the shadows nearby—tall, sharp-featured, quiet as a ghost—stepped forward and straightened at once.

“Yes, sir?”

Rocky’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Won turn a corner. “Follow him.”

James hesitated. It wasn’t defiance—more like surprise. “...But, sir, you just met him?”

Rocky finally turned to look at James, expression unreadable. “And?”

The single word was enough to cut off any protest.

James bowed his head slightly, voice low with acceptance. “…Understood, sir.”

As he disappeared into the shadows behind Won’s path, Rocky turned back toward the alley, the faint smirk long gone from his face. The cigarette smoke had cleared, but the air still felt heavy—like something had shifted, like the night had started moving with a new rhythm.

And Rocky, ever the observer, intended to know exactly what it was Won was hiding.