The opportunity came faster than expected.

It happened right after a proper dinner was finally served to the crew, who’d only filled their empty stomachs with porridge earlier.

While most crew members bought drinks and headed to the lobby after dinner, Number 9 climbed the stairs alone, heading toward the dorms.

Jiwon didn’t miss his chance.

He thought about telling Park Geonwoo and Kim Yunho, but they were already glued to Gwak Chan and Number 11, chatting away.

Well, if they didn’t see me around, they’d assume I’d already started the mission.

With that in mind, Jiwon quickly followed Number 9 up the stairs.

There happened to be several crew members heading to the dorm floor at the same time, so it didn’t look suspicious.

He went up to the second floor, down the hallway where Team 1’s dorms were—opposite direction from his own room—when someone called from behind.

“Jiwon-hyung, where are you going?”

It was Son Geonwoo.

Why the hell did he show up now after ignoring me all this time?

Before curiosity even surfaced, Jiwon’s first thought was that his timing couldn’t be worse.

“Huh? Oh, I... uh, I....”

Jiwon fumbled for words, glancing nervously at Number 9’s retreating figure.

“What, are you interested in that guy?”

Son Geonwoo approached, tossing out a ridiculous question.

“No, of course not.”

Jiwon’s face hardened.

“Right? No way you’d be interested in a bastard like that when you’ve got someone like me, yeah?”

Son Geonwoo grinned.

“What about you? You going to your room?”

Jiwon asked awkwardly.

“Nah, I saw you coming up, so I followed. But isn’t your room that way?”

Son Geonwoo pointed the other direction.

“Oh? Uh... yeah, I wasn’t going to my room, though....”

“Then? You came looking for me?”

His tone was playful.

Something about the way he spoke reminded Jiwon of Number 3.

Maybe he always sounded like that... probably.

When he was in a good mood, Son Geonwoo tended to act slick like that. If things had stayed light, Jiwon might’ve fallen for Son Geonwoo before Number 3.

That random thought floated up in his head.

Either way, Jiwon had been worried seeing Son Geonwoo acting distant since yesterday. Seeing him looking better now brought a bit of relief.

Taking his meds probably helped—not just for himself, but for everyone else too.

The moment Son Geonwoo closed the distance between them, Jiwon sensed movement behind him.

Before he could even turn around, a wet towel slammed over his face.

His head was yanked back hard.

Fuck. I got caught.

That was his first thought.

Flashback #4 — Two Months into Undercover Training

Jiwon gasped.

He couldn’t breathe.

Panic surged as he tried to rip the towel off his face, but whoever was behind him had a solid grip.

Who the hell was doing this—and why?

There’d be time to figure that out later—after getting out of this situation.

The soaked towel clung to his face, making it harder and harder to breathe.

I’m gonna die.

Panic flared as he struggled.

“Relax. You’re only scared because you think you’re dying. You’re not. Calm down. That’s it. You’re doing good, son.”

Suddenly, his father’s voice echoed in his ears.

He must’ve been around eight at the time—his dad had taken him to the pool, promising to teach him how to float, only to toss him straight into the water. That day, he practically drowned.

Jiwon had always loved swimming, but that day he was paralyzed with fear.

It was the first time the young boy, who knew nothing about death, understood what dying felt like.

He panicked, flailed, and the more he fought, the deeper he sank.

As water filled his mouth and nose, his father’s voice cut through.

“Relax. You’re not gonna die. Stay calm. You’re good at this.”

Jiwon did exactly as told—he relaxed every muscle in his body.

The towel pressing over his face slackened for a moment.

He went to counterattack, but whoever held him caught on and tightened the towel again, pulling him even closer.

Not an easy opponent.

But Jiwon wasn’t easy either.

He kicked wildly, twisting his whole body.

His attacker, forced to move with him, stumbled slightly.

That was his chance.

Jiwon shot both arms backward, managing to grab the wrist holding the towel. His right arm was practically useless, but his left was enough.

He wedged his body between their arms, twisting his torso back as hard and fast as he could.

The towel slipped off his face, and he finally saw his attacker.

“Sunbaenim!”

It was Detective Kim Kyungseok.

Despite being shorter than Jiwon, his grip strength was ridiculous.

Still gasping, Jiwon glared at him in shock.

Kim Kyungseok smirked.

“Your arm’s not that hurt, huh?”

“What...?”

He’s cracking jokes now?

Jiwon thought he was going to die.

Coughing hard, he struggled to breathe.

He’d thought the people who killed his brother had finally tracked him down, infiltrating his hideout.

But it was Detective Kim Kyungseok.

When the hell did he get in here?

“Remember the towel. Always remember that.”

The detective repeated himself, watching Jiwon struggle to breathe.

Crazy bastard.

Jiwon nearly cursed out loud.

“Get dressed. Let’s grab a drink.”

Only then did Jiwon realize he was naked—he’d just stepped out of the shower.

Fucking psycho.

He glared at Kim Kyungseok’s retreating back as he left the apartment.

Jiwon’s third safehouse, set up in an area about to be redeveloped, was basically a danger zone. Runaways and thugs squatted in abandoned homes, lighting fires inside and making noise day and night.

Whenever Jiwon passed by, they’d threaten him to buy booze or cigarettes—or outright proposition him for sex.

Despite the danger, Jiwon’s pride as a cop wouldn’t let him turn a blind eye. He wanted to save them—or at least scare them straight by dragging them to the station.

Sometimes contacting their parents worked, even if most were beyond help.

But not this time.

He had to live as Kim Jiwon now, not Yoon Jiwon—the cop. He couldn’t act like law enforcement.

“Slip up even once and it’s all over,” Detective Kim warned, watching Jiwon simmer with frustration.

And tonight—the same man who tried to smother him with a towel—offered another lesson over drinks.

“You saw that kid lying in the bed, right?”

Jiwon, still annoyed, lifted his glass silently.

“He ended up like that because of a towel.”

Jiwon choked on his drink.

“What?”

“A source set up a fake meet through an escort site. So we went to an illegal gay sauna. Reserved a backroom, cleared out anything that could be used as a weapon. Everyone thought we’d finally cracked the case—talking about promotions, all excited. But it was a trap.”

Jiwon set his glass down, realization dawning.

“So fast. It only took seconds.”

The detective hadn’t gone in alone—they had hidden cameras, cops stationed everywhere. But the suspect still pulled it off and escaped before anyone could react.

Three minutes. That’s all it took.

A single attacker.

“If I was even one second late, he would’ve died. The doctor called it a miracle he survived.”

Detective Kim had done CPR himself, barely reviving him.

“But seeing him lying there over a year later... makes me think I should’ve just let him die.”

Kim Kyungseok sighed, downing his soju in one gulp.

“We joke it’s like covering a funeral trip, that’s how dangerous this is. Everyone who went undercover either ended up like that kid—or worse. Missing, dead, paralyzed. You don’t have any dirt with us, so if you wanna quit, now’s the time.”

The detective poured Jiwon another drink.

“Why are you doing this, sunbaenim?”

It was Jiwon’s first real chance to ask—the question that mattered most.

The detective straightened up, arms crossed.

“I wondered when you’d finally ask.”

His smile was easy.

“You’re the first to wait this long to ask me that.”

Weird kid.

Jiwon didn’t even flinch at being called jagi—babe, sweetheart. That was Kim Kyungseok’s charm—he could say anything without it sounding off.

“I don’t love this job either.”

Who the hell would?

The detective’s story unfolded—a cliché tragedy fit for some «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» miserable biography. But for all his hardships, Kim Kyungseok remained strangely upbeat.

Jiwon doubted he could ever be that resilient.

“They’re not even human. Animals have more dignity than those fuckers. They’re demons.”

Kim Kyungseok seethed.

“People say supply follows demand—that’s bullshit. Supply creates demand. Look at sex trafficking. Look at drugs.”

The detective ranted with quiet fury.

They emptied five bottles of soju, but neither got drunk. They couldn’t.

“Let’s go buy a dildo.”

The detective said on the way back.

Jiwon thought he misheard.

“You know what a dildo is, right? Fake dick. Not those prostate massagers.”

“Oh... yeah.”

Kim Kyungseok spoke loudly, unfazed.

“You ever use one?”

“No... not yet...”

“Figured. Look, there it is—adult store.”

He marched right over, like he’d been planning it.

In that shop, Detective Kim bought Jiwon a dildo.

Handing it over as casually as gifting vitamins to a little brother.

“They’re obsessed with oral. All of them. Can’t show your face there if you can’t suck cock properly. Let’s see... yeah, this one’s good. Big, but better to practice with something huge—makes the smaller ones a piece of cake.”

His expression didn’t change once as he appraised the toys.

“Sure, it’s a hassle to use anything anal—enemas, prep, whatever—but this? No excuse. Practice every chance you get. Be a pro. I’ve met gay guys who don’t do penetration, but never one who skips oral. They’re fucking maniacs for it. You’ll see.”

An awkward, mortifying moment—but Jiwon absorbed every word.

“Will I get the chance, though?”

He asked before they parted ways.

Only two cops had gone undercover inside the Party. Both vanished without a trace.

The others? Killed or crippled before they even made contact.

“You’ll get your chance.”

The detective sounded certain.

“This one feels big. Just don’t rush. Train hard. Like it’s real. Got it?”

He raised a fist, throwing a playful jab.

“Even Kim the coach says your jiu-jitsu’s impressive. Taekwondo background, right?”

He shifted topics.

Yeah. No use worrying before things even started.

Jiwon steadied himself.

“Your hair’s grown. Covers your forehead—you look like someone else.”

The detective brushed Jiwon’s hair softly, like a lover.

“Almost looks like him... maybe not.”

He smiled faintly.

“When you’re outside, wear glasses or a hat. Don’t show your face.”

“Ah... yes.”

Jiwon only now realized he’d gone out uncovered—he flustered.

“Guess I scared you earlier. But still, be careful.”

“Sorry.”

“Good. Go on in.”

“Take care, sunbaenim.”

“Oh, I’m moving safehouses soon. Just so you know.”

With that, Detective Kim vanished into the night.

Jiwon rubbed his aching face and neck, eyes following the detective’s shadow until it disappeared.