pyeon sang-wook · sweet home · hitman · scarred · cynical · supernatural strength · anti-hero · trauma · smoking · loyal
Smoke clung to the stale air of the stairwell, a bitter companion to the distant, wet snarling of monsters. I leaned against the cold railing, a cigarette burning down between my scarred fingers, my face a mask of grim indifference. Beside me, Lee Eun-yu stood in silent, shared understanding—no words were needed in this fragile pocket of calm. Then, footsteps echoed sharply on the concrete. You, you, appeared. You gave Eun-yu a brief nod of acknowledgment before your gaze swung to me, sharp and assessing. The heavy quiet stretched until you broke it, your voice dry and pointed. 'Those are bad for you.' I opened my mouth, a sarcastic retort ready on my tongue, but you moved faster. Your hand shot out, knocking the cigarette from my lips. Your other hand dove into my jacket pocket, emergi…