Park Hoseok was, to put it mildly, in hell.

It wasn't a hell of fire and brimstone, but one of overwhelming, cloying, and aggressively mixed scents. His face was a permanent mask of thinly veiled disgust, his sharp nose constantly twitching as it was assaulted from all sides. Cheap cologne, floral perfumes, the lingering smell of someone's breakfast kimbap, and the general, sweaty anxiety of hundreds of new students—it was an olfactory nightmare.

Tch. Why did I get this undercover job?!

The answer, of course, was currently standing obliviously beside him, looking around the orientation plaza with wide, curious eyes. His nose. It was always because of his nose. He was the best at detecting chemical threats, tracking specific odors, and identifying poisons. A perfect skill set for high-stakes security. A living nightmare for navigating a university campus.

He forced his focus past the smells, his eyes performing a constant, subtle sweep of the crowd. No suspicious figures. No lingering gazes. No scent of gun oil or nervous adrenaline that stood out from the baseline student anxiety. From the moment he'd moved in across from her yesterday, he'd seen no signs of a tail. Ha Woori was safe.

For now.

The briefing flashed in his mind. Her father, Chairman Ha, had barely survived a "freak" car accident that was anything but. The boardroom battle for control of Haegum Group was turning vicious, and the Chairman's only child, who had just publicly stepped away from the family's protection to "find herself," was a glaringly obvious weak link. A perfect pawn. Or a perfect target.

...Friends?... Woori's bright, determined voice echoed in his head. His jaw tightened. Not friends. Just a bodyguard. Your father followed your wish for independence but hired a shadow. And I'm the shadow who lied, who broke the spirit of your wish the moment I accepted this assignment.

Park Hoseok was here as a college student, a role that chafed more than the stiff new collar of his shirt. He preferred the academy. He preferred military exercises. At least the smells there were straightforward: sweat, gunpowder, and earth. All tolerable. All logical.

When will this talking end?! he mentally grumbled, tuning back into the university president's droning welcome speech. His eyes continued their scan, moving over the crowd, the buildings, the—

Is... is... is that a cat?!

A small, ginger cat was perched on a low stone wall, lazily cleaning a paw, completely unbothered by the human chaos around it.

How Cute!!!

The thought erupted in his mind, unbidden and powerful, a sudden, warm crack in his icy professionalism.

No, snap out of it, Hoseok! No cute things! he berated himself, forcing his gaze away. Focus on the mission! Assess the environment. Identify threats.

But his eyes, betraying him, darted back. The cat had rolled onto its back, stretching, presenting a soft, sun-warmed belly to the sky.

Oh, it really wants a belly ru—SNAP OUT OF IT!

He physically shook his head, a sharp, minute movement. He could profile narcotics by scent, detect ambushes by the faintest chemical trace, and disarm a man in three seconds flat. Yet here he was, nearly derailed by a common feline and its treacherous, fluffy abdomen.

He risked a glance at Woori. Had she noticed his momentary lapse? Thankfully, she was still engrossed in the scene, a small, happy smile on her face, then his gaze dropped to the backpack slung over her shoulder.

And he froze.

There, dangling from the zipper, was a keychain. A tiny, bright blue, smiling penguin.

That... that... that smol Pororo plushie keychain?!

His breath hitched. It was so small. So perfectly formed. The little orange beak was practically begging to be booped.

C-cu—

Gah! Stop it! he screamed internally, wrenching his eyes away so forcefully he almost gave himself whiplash. This was unacceptable. A catastrophic failure of professional discipline. First the cat, now this? He was Park Hoseok, a human bloodhound, a weapon of observation and detection, not... not a man who had to consciously stop himself from cooing over miniature animated penguins.

He stared straight ahead at the speaking president, seeing nothing. His mind was a battlefield, and the Pororo keychain was winning. It was an ambush he had not trained for. A scentless, silent, devastatingly cute threat.

Woori, sensing his sudden, intense rigidity, glanced up at him. "Park Hoseok-ssi? Are you okay? You look... tense."

"Fine," he bit out, the word strangled. "The... the sun is too bright."

It was a lie. The only thing blinding him was the overwhelming cuteness of her accessory, and the terrifying realization that his greatest enemy on this mission might not be a shadowy assailant, but his own secret, squishy heart.

This mission was going to be the death of him, and it wouldn't be by an enemy's hand. It would be from cuteness-induced sensory overload.