All Chapters of My Model (BL): Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Berlin was cold.Not the biting kind of cold that came with winter storms, but the strange chill that seeped into your coat despite the sun shining overhead. The city was steel and glass, shadows cast in the sharp lines of modern buildings built over ruins no one talked about anymore.Soo-ah stepped off the train, his boots clicking against the platform. The team followed close behind, blending in perfectly among the tourists, professionals, and commuters. Black coats, neutral scarves, no weapons in plain sight. Just like Elion had instructed.“We look like diplomats,” Yuri muttered under his breath. “Boring ones.”“Good,” Soo-ah replied. “Let’s keep it that way.”Yoon-min adjusted his sunglasses, covering the tired bruises still fading around his eyes. “Any sign of our contact?”Soo-ah nodded subtly toward a tall woman leaning against a column near the edge of the station. Cropped platinum hair, long beige coat, and a cigarette dangling from her red lips.“That’s her. Clara Weiss,” S

The train’s rhythmic clatter was the only sound filling the dimly lit compartment. Outside, the Czech countryside blurred into streaks of silver and black beneath the moonlight. Inside, the air was thick with an unspoken tension that even the gentle sway of the carriage couldn’t soften.Sang-woo sat with his injured shoulder bandaged, his posture rigid despite Soo-ah’s earlier urging to rest. Across from him, Devin lounged against the window, pretending to be asleep, though the way his fingers tapped a steady rhythm against his knee betrayed his restless mind.Naelle leaned over a map of Prague spread across the small table between them, her dark eyes scanning routes and safehouses. “Lazarus won’t be careless,” she said finally, her voice low but certain. “He knows we’re coming. Which means…”“He’s already set a trap,” Yuri finished for her, leaning back with his arms crossed. His sharp gaze didn’t leave Naelle’s face.Caelan — who had been silent for most of the ride — finally spoke,

The streets of Istanbul seemed to breathe with life, their air heavy with the fragrance of roasted chestnuts, fresh baklava, and the faint metallic scent of the Bosphorus carried on the wind. Lanterns hung between narrow buildings, their warm light spilling over cobblestones slick from a recent rain. The city’s heart thudded beneath the chatter of merchants, the clang of tram bells, and the endless murmur of travelers who passed through as if they were part of some vast river of strangers.Soo-ah adjusted the hood of his black coat, staying close to Sang-woo’s side as they moved through the crowd. Their mission had been clear enough: blend in, scout the Grand Bazaar’s deeper alleys, and locate Lazarus’s contact. But the reality of it — weaving through the labyrinth of streets where every doorway seemed like a secret, every shadow a pair of eyes — was far more suffocating.“You’re walking too fast,” Sang-woo murmured, his deep voice barely audible over the din. He didn’t look at Soo-ah

The night sky over Prague was restless, clouds dragging themselves across the moon like tattered cloth. The damp wind carried the scent of rain and gasoline, a fitting backdrop to the chaos that had been unfolding in the city for days. Inside the dimly lit safehouse, the air was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging heavier than the stale coffee on the table.Soo-ah sat at the far end of the room, his knees pulled up slightly, one hand resting on the bandaged wound at his side. He could still feel the faint sting from where Sang-woo had shielded him during the Guadalajara mission, the memory refusing to fade no matter how many days passed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood, the way Sang-woo had looked at him — as if losing him wasn’t an option.Across from him, Sang-woo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the floor. His usual stoic mask was cracked, his jaw tight, his breathing measured but uneven. He wanted to speak — he could feel the words burnin

The night air over Istanbul’s harbor was thick with the scent of saltwater and diesel. A dense fog rolled in from the Bosphorus, curling like ghostly fingers around the looming silhouettes of shipping containers stacked in chaotic rows. The clang of distant chains echoed faintly, but otherwise, the world felt muted, like the city itself was holding its breath.Sang-woo adjusted the earpiece tucked beneath his dark hood. “Status?” His voice was a low murmur, barely louder than the soft lapping of waves against the dock.“In position,” Devin’s reply came almost instantly, the faint hiss of static framing his words. “North side, overlooking the cargo yard. Two guards on rotation, switching every ten minutes. They’re armed but distracted.”“Copy,” Sang-woo said. His gaze flicked to Soo-ah, who was crouched beside him behind a stack of crates. The younger man’s expression was sharp, focused, but Sang-woo caught the faint tremor in his hands before he flexed his fingers and gripped his pist