4. You’re a Quiet One

Devin was fast asleep in his room, the night silent, the air still. The only sound was the quiet hum of the ceiling fan above. But then, without warning, the door creaked open—softly, deliberately.

A man stepped inside, his face hidden behind a black mask, a silenced pistol gripped tightly in his gloved hand. He moved quietly, every step calculated, and raised the gun toward the bed.

Just as his finger tensed on the trigger, Devin’s eyes snapped open.

In one swift motion, Devin grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it hard, forcing the gun away. With a sharp pull, he yanked the intruder down and pinned him to the floor.

“Now,” Devin growled, eyes burning with rage, “tell me—who the hell sent you?”

The masked man struggled, shocked. What the hell? He thought. How did he know I was here? How is he this strong?

“— Don’t know!” the man stammered.

Devin’s grip tightened. Without hesitation, he twisted the man’s arm until a sickening crack filled the room. The intruder screamed in pain.

“I won’t ask again,” Devin hissed. “Tell me, or I’ll kill you right now.”

The man whimpered, blood dripping from his broken arm, but said nothing.

Devin’s eyes narrowed. “Fine.”

Just then, the guard burst into the room—only to freeze when he saw the lifeless body sprawled on the floor and Devin standing over it, casually lighting a cigarette.

“Clean it up,” Devin said coldly, exhaling smoke.

“Yes, boss,” the guard replied. He dragged the body out while two more guards rushed in, inspecting the room.

“He came in through your window,” one of them reported.

Devin scoffed, brushing ash off his shirt. “What a brat. Couldn’t even disable the cameras properly?”

The second guard hesitated, then added, “We checked the footage. The Mexican leader sent him.”

Devin paused, then smirked. “So… he wants me dead. From my own hands, huh?”

He looked up, the glint in his eyes turning dangerous.

“Alright. I’ll fulfill his wish.”

The guards exchanged looks. One asked, “Should we prepare the jet?”

“Yes,” Devin said, flicking ash onto the floor. “We’re going to Mexico. Tomorrow.”

“Understood, boss,” the guard replied with a nod, already dialing in arrangements.

As the guards moved to leave, Devin took another drag of his cigarette, his voice low and lethal.

“He wanted war. Now he’ll get it.”

Morning at the airport buzzed with life—announcements echoed through the terminals, footsteps shuffled across marble floors, and the scent of coffee lingered in the air.

Lee Soo-ah walked calmly through the terminal, his hand gripping the handle of a silver suitcase, a beige backpack slung over his shoulder. His expression was calm but unreadable. He moved with quiet purpose, dressed simply but sharply, drawing a few glances from passersby.

At the check-in counter, he placed his suitcase down. The attendant behind the desk scanned his ticket and gave him a polite smile.

“You’re good to go. Gate 12. Have a nice flight,” she said.

Soo-ah nodded slightly, taking his boarding pass back and heading toward the gate. As he walked, he passed by a man surrounded by guards near a private jet. The man was tall, dressed in sleek black, eyes cold and sharp—Devin.

Devin happened to glance up as Soo-ah passed by.

“Hm.” Devin narrowed his eyes, watching the boy’s back. “He looks familiar.”

One of the guards leaned in. “Boss? Something wrong?”

Devin waved his hand dismissively. “No. Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

With that, he climbed into his private jet and took his seat, brushing off the thought, but it lingered in the back of his mind.

Meanwhile, on the commercial flight, Soo-ah had taken his window seat, settling in quietly. He stared out at the runway, hoping for a silent journey. But, luck was not on his side.

Next to him, a pair of girls began whispering.

“Aw, he’s so handsome,” one of them said, trying to sneak a photo.

“He must be a student—maybe going abroad for college,” the other giggled.

Soo-ah tensed. He could hear everything.

What a pain… he thought, sighing under his breath.

Behind him, he heard more murmuring.

“He’s alone. Rich family, maybe? I wish I had the guts to talk to him.”

Soo-ah turned slightly, his gaze cold and annoyed. The girls instantly looked away, pretending to talk about something else.

Wherever I go, people are always in my business, he thought, closing his eyes and leaning back. Just let this flight be quiet… please.

Little did he know, this trip would be anything but peaceful.

The plane was now in the sky, flying steadily above the clouds. Lee Soo-ah sat peacefully in his seat, eyes closed, resting his head lightly against the headrest. The hum of the engine and occasional chime of the cabin speakers were the only background sounds.

A soft voice interrupted his calm.

“Sir, would you like something to drink?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “No, I’m fine,” he replied softly.

“But you should try this,” the flight attendant said, holding out a sleek can with a polite smile. “It’s a new flavor.”

Soo-ah sighed internally, opening one eye to glance at the attendant. The young man was nervous, blushing faintly under Soo-ah’s direct gaze.

Without a word, Soo-ah took the can and opened it. He took a sip, then leaned back again, still not saying much. The attendant gave a small bow and quickly walked off, clearly flustered.

Soo-ah tilted the can in his hand, inspecting the label. The taste isn’t bad, he thought. Kind of refreshing.

A chuckle came from the seat in front of him. An older gentleman turned slightly and looked over his shoulder.

“The flight attendant was flirting with you.”

Soo-ah blinked. “Is that so?” he muttered. “What a pain.”

The old man laughed warmly. “You seem quite popular. You're Soo-ah, right?”

Soo-ah raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“I’ve seen your Nistagram,” the man said with a smile. “I like your paintings. You’re also a model, aren’t you?”

Soo-ah gave a small nod, brushing hair away from his eyes. “I am.”

The man reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small business card, turning to hand it to him.

“When you're back in Seoul, contact me. I run a gallery in Gangnam. There’s a number on the card—personal.”

Soo-ah accepted the card and glanced at it, then tucked it into his backpack without a word.

The man grinned. “You’re a quiet one.”

Soo-ah leaned his head back again. “Only when I’m surrounded by people who talk too much.”

That earned another chuckle from the man, but he didn’t push further. The flight continued smoothly, but Soo-ah couldn't shake the feeling that this trip was going to bring more than just new faces—it might bring trouble too.