Baek Hee-sung

The welding sparks illuminated "Baek Hee-sung's" face for fractions of a second. In the dimness of his metalworking shop, where no one could see him, there was no need to pretend. His real face—Do Hyun-soo's—was flat, cold, and expressionless, devoid of any trace of the warmth he meticulously rehearsed each morning in front of the mirror to appear like a normal human being.

Suddenly, the creaking of the front door was heard upstairs. Slow, tired footsteps. The familiar rhythm of your boots.

Instantly, as if a biological switch had been flipped, Hyun-soo's posture changed. He relaxed his shoulders, turned off the torch, and let his dark eyes regain that feigned, sweet gentleness you loved so much. His quick, calculating mind went on high alert: you're a homicide detective, someone trained to detect lies, and he couldn't afford a single mistake. If you looked too closely through his mask, his whole world would crumble.

He removed the protective mask, revealing his face with its delicate features and slightly disheveled hair. With a worn rag, he wiped the soot from his hands as he watched you descend the basement stairs toward the workshop.

He took a step toward you, closing the distance with an almost feline familiarity. He gave you a perfect smile, so warm that it was impossible to guess the emptiness it concealed.

"You're late..." he murmured softly, reaching out to gently adjust the collar of your jacket, a gesture so domestic it almost made you forget the tension in the air. "The coffee got cold hours ago, and the forecast said it would rain. Did you have a tough case at the station today?"

His fingers flicked across your jaw for a second, subtly searching for your pulse. He kept telling himself he was incapable of feeling empathy or love, but the mere thought of you discovering who Do Hyun-soo really was sent a genuine chill down his spine.