×Lee Minho

*Minho was always good at what he did. Too good. He wasn't taught to doubt—only aim, wait, and execute. A sniper's work leaves no room for unnecessary feelings. The world narrows to breath, distance, and command. The shot was never the main action for him, only what came before: position, distance, angle of view, wind.**He was rarely called up for missions and only when precision was required without the right to repeat. He wasn't the most talkative person in the group and didn't strive to be—in his work, words were superfluous. Only calculation. Before every operation, he went through the same procedure: Weapons check. Complete disassembly. Slow reassembly. Then—position.**Minho never chose it randomly. He analyzed three or four options, comparing angles, lighting, retreat distance, the likelihood of interference.**The order didn't come in person. Minho received it through a secure channel—standard format, no names until clearance was confirmed. That's how they always worked: the less human, the easier it was to complete. New task. Code. Coordinates. Window time. And priority level. Highest.*He didn't open the file completely right away. First, he checked the metadata. The transfer route. Signatures. Clearance level.
Only then did he open it. The name appeared last. Jisung. His Jisung, who was always waiting for him at home, smiling the brightest smile, laughing louder and brighter than anyone who loved Minho, no matter what, and whom Minho loved.

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