Chapter 2 – Too Close
Ido learned something important within his first six hours at the Seoul unit.
Nobody waited for rookies.
The moment they arrived at the neighborhood tied to the disappearances, everyone split into teams like they’d done this a hundred times before. Yellow police tape fluttered near a small grocery alley. Patrol cars blocked half the street. Curious civilians watched from behind phones.
Ido tried to keep up without looking like he was trying too hard.
Geon-woo walked beside him, hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning everything – windows, exits, people lingering too long.
“Stay close,” he said casually.
It didn’t sound like an order.
Still, Ido nodded.
They interviewed the shop owner first. Nothing useful. Same answers as the report. Same nervous shrug.
Ido stepped outside afterward, replaying details in his head.
Routine locations. Blind spots. Familiar streets.
The alley across the road caught his attention.
Trash bins. Old delivery door. Security camera… broken.
He hesitated.
Technically, he should call it in first.
But it was right there.
“I’ll just check,” he muttered to himself.
Bad decision number two.
The alley smelled like damp cardboard and oil. Quiet. Too quiet compared to the busy street behind him.
Ido crouched near the door. Scratches along the lock. Recent.
His pulse picked up.
“Hello? Police-”
The world moved too fast.
Something slammed into his back.
Pain exploded across his ribs as he hit the ground. A gloved hand shoved him forward. He barely saw the man’s face – just a mask, frantic breathing.
Ido struggled, reaching for his radio.
A sharp shove sent him crashing into stacked crates.
Then-
A beep.
Soft. Rhythmic.
Ido froze.
His eyes dropped.
A small device taped under the metal shelf.
His stomach turned cold.
“…Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The suspect bolted toward the exit.
Ido pushed himself up, adrenaline overriding pain.
“Stop-!”
The explosion hit before he reached the door.
Sound disappeared first.
Then heat.
Then force.
Everything went white.
Somewhere not so far away, voices shouted.
Ringing filled his ears. Dust choked the air. Ido couldn’t tell if he was lying down or standing until he tried to move and pain shot through his shoulder.
He coughed hard.
“…Ido!”
A voice cut through the haze.
Strong hands grabbed him, pulling him upright.
His Boss, Geon-woo.
His usually neat hair was covered in dust, expression cracked open with something Ido had never seen before – fear.
“Stay with me,” Geon-woo said, checking him quickly for injuries. His hands were steady, but his breathing wasn’t.
“I’m… okay,” Ido croaked.
“You’re not okay.”
That came out sharper than expected.
Paramedics rushed in behind them, but Geon-woo didn’t step away immediately. His grip stayed firm on Ido’s shoulder, like letting go might make him disappear.
“You went alone,” he said quietly.
Ido winced. “I thought I found something-”
“You call it in first.”
Not angry.
Worse. Guilty.
Geon-woo exhaled slowly, jaw tight.
“That was my responsibility.”
Ido blinked. “Sir, I-”
“My team doesn’t get hurt because of my mistakes.”
The words sounded practiced. Heavy. Like he’d said them before.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Sirens echoed outside. Smoke drifted through broken concrete.
Geon-woo finally helped him toward the ambulance.
But his hand never left Ido’s back.
The hospital cleared Ido with minor injuries. Bruised ribs. Mild concussion. A lecture he absolutely deserved.
When he stepped back into the department that night, everyone stared like he had come back from war.
Someone shoved snacks into his hands. Another detective complained he nearly gave them a heart attack.
Ido laughed awkwardly.
Across the room, Geon-woo watched quietly.
Later, he approached Ido’s desk and placed a file down.
“New case,” he said.
Ido blinked.
“You’re cleared for light duty.”
A pause.
“…You’ll work directly with me from now on.”
Ido frowned slightly. “B-because I messed up?”
Geon-woo shook his head.
“Because you notice things others miss.”
Then, after a small hesitation-
“You’ll report directly to me from now on.”
Ido frowned a little. “That’s-
…sounds like extra supervision? Of course he can’t say that loudly.
Geon-woo simply adjusted the file on his desk. “It’s more efficient.”
That was all he said.
From that day on, they moved together.
Interrogations. Night stakeouts. Crime scenes that smelled like rain and cigarette smoke. Long drives filled with comfortable silence or random conversations at 2 a.m.
Ido noticed things.
Geon-woo started calling his name whenever they entered a scene, just to make sure he was nearby. Briefings somehow ended with Ido assigned to his side. Even during inspections, Geon-woo’s gaze drifted back to him every few minutes, quick and subtle, like a habit he didn’t realize he’d formed.
No lectures. No reminders.
Just… presence.
As if leaving him alone for too long felt like a risk.
Ido told himself it was normal. Rookie treatment.
They learned each other’s rhythms without noticing.
Geon-woo always handed him coffee before he realized he needed it. Ido couldn’t help thinking it should be the other way around.
He started predicting what Geon-woo was thinking during briefings just by the way he crossed his arms.
Danger stopped feeling unfamiliar.
And somewhere between shared exhaustion and near-misses, trust quietly settled between them.