CAPTAIN PRICE - CALL OF DUTY

“These are the things I will pass on. That’s what I live for.”

CHAPTER 14 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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——

He had seen it coming. Hell, he was in charge of everything.

That final game. The one that had changed everything. The one that had you in it.

The air had been suffocating inside the control room, thick with the metallic scent of blood, with the weight of choices that had been made long before the game had even begun.

In-ho remembered how you looked on the TV from the last season of the games, your body barely keeping itself upright during the Red Light, Green Light game. Your eyes were sharper than ever, burning and filled with something that he had never quite seen before.

The way you had looked at him in the limousine at that moment haunted him still. 

And then, despite the rebellion, there had been a winner. Deserving, as In-ho thought. 

But the man who had risen from the bloodshed, broken, and victorious should have left. But he didn’t.

Instead, a new role had been placed upon him. Not by choice, but by design.

In-ho had watched as the mask was placed over his face, the weight of it settling onto his shoulders like a sentence, as if an inevitability. He had worn that mask once. 

But not anymore.

Not after he had been called into that silent, suffocating room where the men in gilded masks sat in the shadows, waiting for him. 

The Overseer. A title heavier than the one before it.

A role he hadn’t asked for — one that had been forced upon him the same way he had forced the mask onto the new Front Man. The games had changed, and so had its players. 

A knock echoed through the dimly lit room. In-ho turned, his gloved hands resting idly behind his back as the door opened. The knocker’s footsteps were slow and deliberate. Then, a silence came in.

A presence stood across from him, face obscured beneath the black mask that had once belonged to him. For a moment, neither spoke. Then, in the quiet, In-ho exhaled.

“How does it feel?” In-ho asked, his voice smooth but unreadable.

The figure didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was different than before — colder, stripped of anything human.

“It doesn’t matter how it feels.”

In-ho allowed himself the faintest ghost of a smirk beneath his own mask. “Good.”

Then, without another word, he turned away. 

The city hadn’t changed. The streets pulsed with life as if the world had never stopped turning, as if nothing had fractured beneath its surface. The skyline still burned with city lights stretching beyond the horizon. People walked from one place to another, drowning in their own worlds, oblivious to the monsters that lurked beneath their feet.

But for In-ho, the world had never felt more empty.

Six months had passed since that night — since he found the blood on his counter and the microchip abandoned beside it. Six months since you had vanished without a trace, disappearing into the shadows as if you had never existed. 

It had been six months since he had lost you. And yet, he refused to let go.

He searched everywhere. Every street, every darkened alley, every lead that turned to dust beneath his fingertips. But no matter how far he looked, how many resources he pulled from the depths of his influence, you were nowhere to be found. He scoured the underground, digging into places so deep that even the organization had turned wary of his movements. The weight of the mask no longer felt heavy on his face, but without you, it no longer felt like it belonged.

The realization had settled in his bones like a sickness — an aching, gnawing thing that refused to let go. And yet, he couldn’t stop.

Every week, without fail, he visited your apartment. It was muscle memory now, the way his hand would rest against the doorframe, the way his breath would still in his chest as he listened for any sign of movement beyond the door. But there was nothing.

Always nothing.

There was no warmth inside. No trace of your presence.

You left your key there, but he never once thought of taking it. He never stepped inside, not even once. Because if he did — if he walked into that empty space and saw the dust gathering on surfaces you should have touched, saw the absence of you woven into the very walls — he wasn’t sure if he could keep moving forward.

So instead, he stood there. Every end of the week, in the dead of night, standing like a ghost outside a home that no longer belonged to anyone.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Knowing, deep down, that you weren’t coming back.

——

The news reached him in whispers. 

In-ho went back to his other apartment, the one that no one ever knew — only him. The apartment he went home to after every season of the games. However this time, he was searching for you again, locked in on every file. For the first time in months, something inside In-ho shifted.

A body had been found at an abandoned dockyard. A clean execution — one bullet to the head. No struggle, no trace left behind except the corpse of the man who had once been responsible for finding desperate souls for the games. 

The organization had been careful. This was no ordinary attack. Whoever had done this had known exactly what they were doing. It wasn’t just a loss of a valuable asset to the operation. It wasn’t just the unsettling fact that someone had gotten close enough to take him out without raising any alarms.

You were still out there. And now, you weren’t just running. You were fighting back.

A slow exhale left his lips as he set the report down. His fingers tightened slightly around the edges of the paper, though his face remained unreadable.

The world had indeed changed in the past six months.

In-ho’s feet moved before his mind worked, entering his car as his fingers curled around the steering wheel, knuckles white from the pressure. The rain drummed softly against the window of his car as he drove towards your apartment. There, he parked outside. Although he had no reason to be there, but he couldn’t help himself.

Another week. Another night. Another moment was spent staring at the door that would never open.

The rain blurred the city beyond the windshield, distorting the world in streaks of color. And for a moment, he let himself remember your voice, your smile. The warmth of your presence beside him.

But then, as his gaze drifted toward your apartment building, something gnawed at the edges of his mind. A feeling — one he had long learned not to ignore. The environment carried a charge, something almost electric, almost alive. It wasn’t obvious at first, not to someone who wasn’t looking for it.

Something was wrong.

Without thinking, he stepped out of the car, the cold rain soaking through his coat almost instantly. His heart pounded as he took the stairs two at a time, reaching your door before he could convince himself otherwise.

Then, he froze. The door was slightly ajar. His pulse quickened, a sharp contrast to his otherwise calm exterior. His breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he pushed the door open, the hinges creaking in protest. And then, his stomach dropped.

The apartment was empty. Not just in the way it always had been — but stripped bare, as if someone had come and erased every last trace of you from existence. The bed was untouched. The air smelled stale. His eyes scanned the space, taking in every detail. Although the furniture was the same, something about its arrangement felt off. As if someone had touched it, moved it, sat on it.

His gaze trailed along the room until it landed on the small table near the window. And then, he saw it.

Your letter.

The envelope was simple. There were no markings, no embellishments. Just his name scrawled in familiar handwriting.

Your handwriting.

His fingers tightened around the edges as he picked it up, his throat constricting. He exhaled, steadying himself before he slipped a gloved finger beneath the seal, carefully unfolding the paper within. 

Your scent still lingered on it.

His eyes moved over the words, absorbing them, dissecting every sentence, every choice of phrasing, every hidden meaning between the lines.

I wonder how long it took you to realize I was close. Or if you came here just to mourn the ghost of me, the one you left behind. I wonder if you’ve spent your nights lying awake, picturing my face in the crowd, searching for a glimpse of me in every shadow.

But I already know the answer, don’t I?

You’ve been looking for me. I know, because I’ve been watching you, too.

Do you understand what you did to me, In-ho? It wasn’t just the bullet — it was the choice. It was the cold look in your eyes, the way you pulled the trigger as if my life was nothing more than a means to an end. I wasn’t just another player in your game. I wasn’t someone you could sacrifice for the sake of your throne.

You betrayed me.

And yet, I still think about you. That’s the cruelest part of all. 

Even after everything, I still remember the way you used to look at me. I still remember your hands, the warmth of your touch before you became someone I could no longer reach. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for every moment I miss you.

But I won’t let that stop me from what I have to do. The recruiters are still out there, hunting for the desperate and the broken. And I see them. I watch them from the shadows. I’ve followed them down the streets, through the alleys, watching as they hand out those cursed cards. And every time I find one, I promise myself I will end them.

I wonder, In-ho… will you stop me? Will you try?

Or will you let me disappear into the abyss you threw me into?

You know where to find me. If you’re willing to look hard enough.

By the time In-ho finished reading, his hands had curled so tightly around the letter that the edges crumpled beneath his fingers. A slow exhale left his lips, his shoulders stiff, his mind a storm of emotions too tangled to unravel.

You were near. You knew he was looking for you. And now, you had given him a choice: let you vanish into the darkness or chase after you.

The corner of his lips twitched, a ghost of something almost like amusement, but there was no warmth in it.

You wanted a challenge? You would get one.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how well you hid, In-ho wasn’t going to stop. He had already lost you once.

And he wasn’t going to lose you again. 

——

The alley was silent. The kind of silence that only came after death.

Even in the middle of Seoul, where the streets never truly slept, there were places like this — forgotten corners between looming buildings, spaces where the city’s neon glow didn’t quite reach. Places where death could slip by unnoticed.

The recruiter’s body slumped against the cold brick wall, his final breath long stolen from his lungs. Blood seeped into the cracks of the pavement, dark and glistening under the faint streetlight overhead. The warmth of it clung to your hands, soaked into the creases of your knuckles, staining your sleeves.

The knife was still in your grip, trembling slightly as the adrenaline burned through you.

Another one down. Another recruiter gone.

Your pulse pounded, loud in your ears, drowning out the distant sounds of the city. This was what you had become. You had made your choice the night you left. 

You promised yourself that if you couldn’t stop the games, you would stop those who fed it. And yet, as you stood there, staring at the life you had just taken, a part of you wondered if this was really justice.

Or if it was revenge. 

Your breath came uneven as you wiped the blade clean against the recruiter’s coat before slipping it back into your pocket. The blood on your hands had already begun to dry, leaving a tacky feeling against your skin. The weight of it pressed against your chest.

You had to move.

With one last glance at the lifeless body, you turned, slipping into the shadows, disappearing before anyone could find you.

You had never been much of a smoker before, but now, it was a habit you had picked up in the quiet moments between the killings, in the stolen hours of the night when the world slowed just enough for your thoughts to catch up.

The flame flickered as you brought it to the tip, the ember glowing faintly before you took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs. It burned, just for a second, before settling into something familiar, something grounding. Your mind wandered before you could stop it.

In-ho.

The man who had once been your everything before he became the one thing you could never forgive.

Six months since you had disappeared into the cracks of the city. Since you had left behind the world that had nearly swallowed you whole. Since you had walked away from him.

And yet, he hadn’t walked away from you.

You’ve seen him. Every week. Every damn week, without fail.

Standing just across the street from your apartment building, half-hidden in the shadows, his hands in the pockets of his coat, his gaze lingering on the shadows as if you could step out onto the balcony. He would stand there for hours, unmoving, just watching. 

And then, just before the sky began to lighten before the world stirred awake, he would disappear like a ghost. Like a man who didn’t know how to let go.

You had never let him see you, never once stepped out of the safety of your hiding place. But you had thought about it.

God, you had thought about it.

There were nights when you had stood by the window, fingers curled around the curtain, watching him through the sliver of space between the fabric. Careful enough not to make any movement around your apartment, for him to think that you never came back there. Nights when you had imagined walking down those steps, crossing that street, standing in front of him, and asking him why.

Why he had done this. 

Why he had betrayed you.

Why he still looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

And worse, there were nights when you had almost considered it. 

Almost considered going back.

Almost considered accepting his offer.

Because for all the blood on his hands, for all the lives he had stolen, there had been a time where he had been yours. And a part of you, no matter how much you hated it, still wanted to believe that be again. 

But then, the memories would come back. The pain. The betrayal. 

The weight of his gun against your body, the sharp crack of the bullet tearing through you. The way he had looked at you afterward. Not with regret, not with hesitation, but with cold, calculated detachment. Like you had never meant anything at all.

You exhaled, watching the tendrils of smoke curl toward the ceiling before vanishing into nothing. As you stood there in the dim light of the convenience store, with the taste of nicotine on your tongue and the weight of another life on your conscience, you couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how far you ran, no matter how many recruiters you took down, he would always find a way back to you.

The gas station flickered ahead, neon signs buzzing faintly against the dark sky. It sat on the edge of the city, just far enough from the main streets that it felt detached from the world. A temporary sanctuary.

You pushed open the door to the restroom, locking it behind you. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting a sickly glow over the cracked mirror. And then, for the first time in hours, you saw yourself, barely recognizing what you had become.

Your reflection stared back at you, hollow-eyed and exhausted. Slowly, you turned on the faucet, watching as the water sputtered out, filling the sink.

Your fingers shook as you scrubbed. The blood smeared at first, painting your skin deeper shades of red before finally fading down the drain. But even as your hands became clean, the weight in your chest did not lift.

You gripped the edges of the sink, head lowering, and your breath shaky. You had been killing them one by one. 

You exhaled sharply, blinking back the exhaustion threatening to consume you. There was no time to dwell on it. Not now.

Pulling your coat tighter around yourself, you pushed open the restroom door and stepped into the dimly lit convenience store. 

The bell above the convenience store door chimed as you stepped inside, the harsh fluorescent lights making you squint after spending too much time lurking in the shadows. The scent of cheap instant ramen and cleeaning detergent filled the air, clashing with the lingering smoke of your cigarette, which you quickly stubbed out against the trash bin by the entrance.

You barely spared a glance at the other customers. Just another late-night stop for the city’s restleses — people either coming from work or trying to escape something. The latter fit you right in.

But then, you saw her.

Jun-hee.

Your breath hitched.

She was standing in front of the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, completely unaware of your presence. For a moment, your mind refused to believe it was real. But she was here, standing right in front of you when, by all accounts, she should have been dead.

Just like you.

Her hair was longer than you remembered, tied back in a loose ponytail, and she wore a thick coat that did little to hide the exhaustion in her posture. But it wasn’t her disheveled appearance that caught your attention.

It was the baby in her arms. Small, bundled up in soft, pale yellow fabric.

Yours and Jun-hee’s eyes met in the reflection of the fridge door. She froze, the bottle slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.

“No…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with disbelief. “You… You’re dead.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. You could have laughed if the moment wasn’t so suffocating. You had to get out.

You schooled your features, masking the sudden rise of panic clawing at your ribs. “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person.”

Her eyes widened, a million emotions flashing through them. “No, no. It’s you. It’s really you. How—?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you cut her off, voice steady but firm. You turned sharply on your heel and strode toward the door, the familiar itch of danger creeping up your spine. 

You shoved the door open and stepped back into the cold air, swallowing down the panic rising in your throat. Your fingers twitched at your sides, muscles tensing as you forced yourself to keep walking, to not turn back, to not run.

Jun-hee won.

She was the winner of the last game. The realization settled like a heavy strone in your gut. She had survived. She had gone through the same nightmare, played the same deadly games, watched people die, and somehow, she had come out alive.

And she had a baby now.

Your mind ran circles around the thought, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. She had seen you. That was all that mattered. You needed to disappear again and let the city swallow you whole, let the neon lights blur in your peripheral vision, let the sounds of traffic and distant voices drown out your thoughts.

By the time you realized where you were, you were standing in front of a bar. It was dimly lit, old, with a neon sign flickering above the entrance, half the letters burnt out. It was the perfect place to sink into oblivion. 

The door creaked as you pushed it open, the scent of liquor, sweat, and stale cigarette smoke hit you instantly, familiar and suffocating all at once. A few patrons lingered at the tables, hunched over drinks, lost in their own troubles. The bartender barely spared you a glance as you slid into a seat at the counter.

Your hands were still shaking, realizing that Jun-hee had seen you. 

You drank the night away, the coldness of the liquor etching your throat as it burned, but you didn’t care. You needed to be wasted.

——

A/N: So far, I've been liking the thought of In-ho and Y/N writing letters for each other 🤭 What did you think of Jun-hee becoming the winner of the games? Do you have any theories in mind for the next season of Squid Game? Let's discuss about it! Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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"I like to keep this for close encounters."

still salty on soap mactavish's death dont talk to me

"Shit! What the hell happened?!"

Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 3

Ok I know it’s a generic shooter, blah blah same game same guns blah blah blah, I’m just into the story behind the modern warfare games. The 3rd one breaks my heart though… I want to see what happens to Captain Price!! I would have love to see a news bulletin like “News Anchor: Breaking News. World Renowned Terrorist Vladimir Makarov has been killed…” And they would go on to say that one survivor, Captain Price, was found seriously wounded and is believed to be the one that killed Makarov. I want Price to be praised as a Hero!!! After everything he has done and been through, he deserves the Victorian Cross or something!!! It killed me inside seeing the picture of Ghost, Soap, Price and Sandman at the very end. Agh I am just ranting about an old game nobody probably even cares about.

And then you and I will be enemies, too. One of us will have to kill the other. Fine by me.

with the baby crying at the end of the teaser i just know in-ho saw jun-hee giving birth and is longing for his unborn child

watch my heart brOOOOOKE

hii!! i was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a young inho x reader, something fluffy, maybe like a university!au where the reader and inho are both training for police, and they go from meet ugly to lovers?? nothing too long, just a short little au!!

all up to you if you'd like to pick this up!! love ur current series btw

my kind of distraction (hwang in-ho x reader)

Tags: university!au, inho x reader, enemies to lovers, young in-ho, fluff

Summary: You first meet In-ho at a convenience store, unbeknownst to you that he was also party of the police academy you were training for. On your first day of training, you meet In-ho again and think of him as someone who's arrogant during trainings, as he would criticize you whenever you were partnered with him. Over time, you found yourself looking forward to your trainings together. And when you successfully anticipated his next move, for the first time in a while, he smiled.

A/N: I know I used a Mr. Sunshine GIF for this AU, but it's the perfect scenario of what I pictured in my head. I'm sorry this took awhile as I am still grieving over my father, but here it is! 🫡

----

The fluorescent light cast a stark, sterile glow over neatly stacked shelves, the faint beep of the cashier scanning items, and the quiet hum of refrigerators lined with colorful drinks. As you entered the convenience, the smell of instant noodles, cheap coffee, and something fried from the food warmer near the counter reached your nose.

The ground beneath your feet was steady, yet it felt as if you’re walking on air, one breath away from something bigger than your grasp. You took a big step out of your comfort zone, entering the police academy with no connections - just pure luck. For the past few days, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you made a great choice, that it was enough. Enough to prove the fear doesn’t get to hold you back. That growth isn’t meant to be comfortable. 

You sighed as you grabbed an instant ramen on the shelf, with a soda in a can at hand. You had to eat something, at least. The nervousness in taking it all by yourself, taking control of your life, was starting to get to you. At least, in this way, you felt normal.

You didn’t notice him at first. Not until you round the corner of an aisle, trying to get to the cashier, and see him standing by the refrigerated section.

Tall. Composed. Effortlessly self-assured in a way that feels almost deliberate. 

He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate in his movements. His fingers graze over a row of canned coffee, seeing it labeled as Americano as he plucked one off the shelf with a kind of precision that suggests he does this often. There’s an air of distance about him, something cold and untouchable, like he exists in a space just slightly apart from everyone else. 

Even as another customer brushes past him, murmuring a quiet sorry, he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t shift, doesn’t react. He simply steps back as if it’s expected, as if the world should move around him rather than the other way around. The cool blue light of the fridge highlights the sharp angles of his face. You shook your head, an attempt to shake him away from your thoughts as you noticed yourself staring. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Or maybe he has, and he just doesn’t care. 

And then, as if sensing your stare, he lifts his gaze and meets yours.“You see something you like?” He said, voice low and edged with a quiet arrogance. 

You snapped away from your thoughts immediately as you felt your throat tighten, caught between embarrassment and irritation. 

You open your mouth, ready with a sharp retort, but then he turned away. He walked past you without a glance, the scent of coffee and something clean lingering in the air as he passed. It should be unremarkable, just another fleeting moment in a late-night store. 

But something about him stays with you. You don’t know why yet.

Not yet, anyway.

But one thing’s for sure - that annoyed you more than anything else.

——

The universe had other plans. The kind of plan that didn’t think of you, that didn’t care for your feelings. 

“Hwang In-ho.”

You snapped your head up just in time to see him forward as you stood in formation on your first day of training at the police academy, listening to the instructor call out partner assignments. You nearly feel your stomach drop as you see him, the man you met at the convenience store.

He was composed as ever, his expression still unreadable. 

“And you,” the instructor continues, turning toward you. “You’ll be working with him.”

Your gaze stayed still, trying not to show any emotion from what you felt from your first encounter with Hwang In-ho. You avoided his faze as he walks over to stand beside you; something flickers across his face. A moment of quiet recognition.

His eyes drag over you as if to assess you, tilting his head a bit. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle.

“You again,” he murmured, just low enough that only you can hear. 

You straighten your shoulders, trying not to let his arrogance under your skin. “Guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

In-ho smirked, his gaze lingering longer before he looked ahead again, completely at ease. “Try to keep up.”

For the past few months, you trained with In-ho. As much as you wanted to think of him as your equal, you can’t help but feel the rivalry between you two. Beside you, In-ho was already prepared, his stance immaculate, and his confidence radiated like an invisible force. 

The sound of boots scraped against the floor echoed in the small, sparse room. You and In-ho stood in the center. The air was thick with anticipation, and despite the calm exterior, you could feel the adrenaline humming through your veins. Today’s training was all about speed and precision - drawing the weapon fast enough to stop a threat before it had a chance to react.

In-ho had already settled into his stance, the gun at his side, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the space like he could already predict what would happen next. His usual cocky smirk was there, though this time, it had a sharper edge to it.

“You ready to keep up?” In-ho asked, his voice almost mocking.

“Just don’t slow me down,” you replied. You tried to ignore the way his words grated against you. You knew he was trying to test you. Drawing the weapon wasn’t just about speed - it was about control, about making every move count without wasting time. 

In-ho turned his head, his eyes glinting with that same arrogant fire. “You should be thanking me for this. You’ll never get this fast on your own.”

You clenched your jaw but didn’t respond. It wasn’t worth it. You knew what you needed to do.

“Go.”

Your fingers shot to the grip of the gun, a smooth, practiced motion - except it wasn’t quite smooth enough. Your hand fumbled slightly at first, a split-second delay in pulling the gun free, and that split-second was enough for In-ho to draw your gun away.

In-ho lowered his gun with a grin, his voice dripping with that all too familiar smugness. “You might want to work on that. A slow draw will get you killed before you even start.”

You felt the heat of frustration surge in your chest, but you swallowed it down. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was right. Yet you didn’t want to lose this time. 

“Let’s do it again,” you said, steadying your breathing.

In-ho gave you a cocky nod, clearly entertained. “Fine. But don’t take too long. I wouldn’t want you to waste all my time.”

You took a step closer, not missing a beat. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love to waste more time on me,” you teased, leaning in just enough for him to notice the playful glint in your eyes. “But I think you’re already getting a little distracted.”

In-ho’s expression faltered for a moment, his usual confidence slipping as he caught the shift on your tone. His eyes lingered on you, just a fraction longer than what was considered normal, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something else behind his gaze. 

At that moment, you knew you caught him off guard.

In-ho’s expression shifted, his confidence momentarily shaken as he cleared his throat. “You think you can distract me that easily?” A tight chuckle escaped from his lips.

You shrugged with a smirk. “I’m sure you can handle it. But I think you might be a little more… interested in what I can do.”

In-ho’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile. For a second, you could see him caught between his usual arrogance and the curiosity that had crept up into his eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, though there was a slight edge to his voice, something more amused than irritated.

“Ready for round two?” You challenged, giving him a wink, this time with more confidence than before. 

“Go.”

The signal came again, and this time, you were ready. Your hand shot to the holster, faster, smoother, pulling the gun with fluid motion from him. You pointed and aimed at In-ho, sending his arms up in surrender. 

For a moment, the room went still. In-ho was caught off guard, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a flicker of surprise. You couldn’t help but grin, your finger resting lightly on the trigger, though you weren’t about to fire.

“You were saying?” You asked, your voice low and teasing.

In-ho blinked, the smile creeping back onto his face, only this time, it was different. There was something more impressed in it, a quiet acknowledgement of the thought that you just won.

“Guess I underestimated you,” In-ho said, his cockiness returning, though with a slight edge of admiration.

You lowered your gun, placing it on your pockets as you wiped your sweat away with a face towel. “You do that a lot, don’t you?” A soft chuckle escaped from you.

To your surprise, he smiled. “You’re full of surprises.” His voice was almost softer now, a subtle warmth in his words.

You felt your heart skip a beat. There was something about the way he looked at you - something disarmingly genuine in the smile that reached his eyes. As you tried to steady the racing of your heart, you swallowed as you let out a small grin. “You have no idea,” you replied.

In-ho watched you for a moment longer, the smile still playing at the corners of his lips. He seemed to favor the tension between you and him before giving a slight nod. “I think I’m starting to.”

----

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