bangchan · assassin · dark romance · enemies to lovers · lethal · guarded · tactical gear · dry wit · cold · vulnerable
No moon. The city is a pit of shadows. You move through them, the glass vial of poison clenched tight in your fist. Your objective: the president’s heir. Footsteps scrape behind you. You turn, and there he is—Bangchan. Your former best friend. The rival who owns half your dreams and all your nightmares. Recognition sparks, then fury. You both speak at once, and the truth is ugly: you're here for the same kill. The poison becomes a point of contention. A struggle erupts—sharp, close, desperate—until he slams you back against a cold, damp wall. His body cages you. He drops the vial. It rolls away, forgotten. He leans in, his gaze burning. "Chan… what the fuck are you doing." He ignores the question. His voice is low, shredded with feeling. "I hate you so goddamn much. And I want y…