Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Model (BL): Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

The night in Istanbul deepened, carrying with it the weight of exhaustion and unspoken words. The safehouse was cloaked in a silence so fragile that even the sound of Yoon-min’s slow breathing from the adjoining room felt like a drumbeat.Sang-woo sat in the kitchen, his hand still wrapped in bandages, eyes fixed on the steam curling upward from the untouched cup of tea in front of him. His body bore bruises from the earlier clash, but it was the turmoil inside his chest that made it hard to breathe.Soo-ah entered quietly, his footsteps soft against the old wooden floor. He paused in the doorway, his gaze catching on Sang-woo’s profile—stoic as always, yet fraying at the edges.“You should rest,” Soo-ah said gently.Sang-woo gave a humorless chuckle. “Rest doesn’t come easy when the ghosts are louder than sleep.”Soo-ah’s chest tightened. He walked closer, pulling out the chair opposite him. For a long moment, they sat in silence, the air heavy with everything they hadn’t said.Final

The air in Istanbul was heavy with incense and the faint tang of seawater drifting in from the Bosphorus. The night was alive with sounds—the call of distant muezzins echoing from minarets, the shuffle of footsteps on cobbled streets, and the occasional rumble of carts carrying spices, cloth, and secrets. Yet beneath the rhythm of the city beat another, quieter pulse: the Lion’s network, vast and invisible, stretching through alleyways and gilded halls alike.Soo-ah adjusted the hood of her cloak as the group moved through the narrow passage. Sang-woo limped slightly beside him, his bandages hidden beneath layers of fabric, but his sharp eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings. Behind them, Devin kept close to Naelle, whispering something under his breath that made her roll her eyes but smirk all the same. Yuri lingered at the rear, her hand brushing the concealed hilt of her blade, always ready, always watching.The air thickened as they approached their destination. Hidden be

The air in the safehouse was heavy, silence pressing down like a weighted blanket. Only the faint hum of the generator and the occasional groan of the old wooden beams broke the stillness. After the events in Istanbul, the team had finally found temporary shelter, but none of them felt at ease.Soo-ah sat on the edge of the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap. His gaze flickered to Sang-woo, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a storm brewing behind his usually calm expression. Yoon-min lay unconscious in the next room, still recovering from the torture he had endured. And Naelle busied herself cleaning weapons, her expression detached but her eyes sharp, betraying the tension she carried.Devin finally spoke, his voice low but cutting through the silence. “We can’t keep pretending everything is fine. Someone’s been feeding Lazarus information.”The words landed like a blade, and Soo-ah’s stomach tightened.Sang-woo straightened. “You think we have a traitor among us?”Devin’

The night in Istanbul was restless. Clouds veiled the moon in thick layers, painting the Bosphorus in shades of steel and shadow. From their vantage point on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse near the harbor, Sang-woo could see the faint glow of the Topkapı Palace walls in the distance—an old symbol of power standing tall against the modern cityscape.But tonight, power belonged not to the old empires nor to the city’s restless merchants. It belonged to Lazarus. And Lazarus had Yoon-min.“Security rotations every fifteen minutes,” Devin whispered, crouched beside Sang-woo as he scanned through the binoculars. His tone was sharp, his hands steady. “Armed. Not locals, either. Hired guns.”Naelle stood with her arms crossed, her golden hair whipping in the wind. Her voice carried a quiet steel. “He’s making a spectacle of it. It’s not just about holding Yoon-min—it’s about showing us he controls the city now.”Yuri adjusted her blades strapped along her thigh, her eyes never leaving

The waves of the Bosphorus lapped against the steel hull of the ferry, carrying with them the scent of salt, oil, and old history. Istanbul stretched on both sides, half bathed in the golden haze of late afternoon, half shrouded in the creeping dusk. The city hummed with life: calls to prayer echoing across the skyline, car horns blaring from the traffic jams, and the ever-present sound of merchants calling out in the bazaars. But none of that reached the team huddled in the shadowed lower deck of the vessel. Their mission had brought them here, and for the first time since Guadalajara, the air between them felt fragile—like glass, ready to splinter under the wrong word. Soo-ah leaned against the railing, the wind pulling at his hair as he stared at the dark water. His reflection stared back, distorted by the rippling surface, a reminder of the weight of everything they’d lost and everything still at risk. Sang-woo stood near him, quiet, one hand pressed against the bandages beneath