Chapter 8 Na-ri and Jae-Hyun - Chapter 8

"Congratulations, Na-ri!" Tae grinned. "How does it feel to be back on full duty?"

"A huge relief." Na-ri smiled.

She has passed both her fitness and firearms test and next week she would be back on full duty. The hours would still be limited but gradually increased as she completed her recovery.

"I am so happy for you! Sad for me because this is your last session but happy for you!" Tae laughed, motioning in the direction of the studio. "C'mon, I thought I'd go extra hard on you since it's your last time here."

"Aren't you meant to go easy on someone when it's their last day?" Na-ri chuckled.

"Really?" Tae pretended to be surprised. "So that's where I have been going wrong..."

Tae-Joon led the way into the training studio, his sneakers squeaking cheerfully against the polished floor. He grabbed a set of resistance bands from the wall, tossing one lightly toward her with a bright grin.

"No slacking off just because you got your badge back, Detective," Tae-Joon teased, adjusting his stopwatch. "We have to make sure that hip can handle chasing down suspects in those narrow Seoul alleyways."

Na-ri caught the band, a genuine laugh escaping her. The ease of working with Tae-Joon was like a breath of fresh air compared to the suffocating weight that usually filled this building. Here, she didn't have to defend herself or constantly brace for a psychological battle.

"Alright, alright," she said, stepping onto the band to anchor it. "Show me your worst, Coach."

"That's the spirit!" Tae-Joon laughed, pointing toward the floor mats. "Let's start with lateral band walks. Keep your posture upright and don't let your knees cave in."

As she began the exercise, the familiar, rhythmic thud of a heavy punching bag started up in the main gym area next door. The sound was distant, muffled by the studio walls, but the heavy, deliberate pattern of the strikes was instantly recognizable.

Tae-Joon didn't seem to notice, focusing entirely on her alignment. "Perfect form, Na-ri. Just like that. Keep the tension constant."

Na-ri kept her eyes locked on the wall opposite her, forcing her focus to stay entirely on Tae-Joon's instructions, refusing to let her mind drift to the heavy vibrations echoing through the floorboards.

Each blow was like a bomb going off, a volatile reminder of the man Na-ri had once imagined spending the rest of her life with.

By the end of the session, the sound of fists hitting the punching bag had buried itself into her brain in the form of a headache; an uncomfortable end to her last session at the gym.

"If you ever decide you want to come back. You know where I am." Tae held his arms out, offering a hug.

"Thank you." Na-ri accepted the offer, not something she normally did but given the time they had spent together and how he had helped her out, Na-ri felt that he deserved it.

Saying her goodbyes she headed to the locker room one last time to shower and change, feeling as if a weight has finally been lifted.

The locker room felt different this time—less like a prison and more like a transition. Na-ri hung her towel over the door of the stall, the steam rising around her like a shroud, masking the world outside. The hot water was a luxury she allowed herself to sink into, letting the spray wash away the grit of the final workout and the echo of those thunderous punches from the next room.

She stepped out, feeling the cool air hit her damp skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the shower. The silence in the locker room was thick, almost heavy. She dressed slowly, savoring the ritual for the last time. Work would be her main focus now. No more ozone-scented air, no more brooding shadows.

As she reached for her bag, the heavy wooden door creaked open.

Jae-Hyun didn't walk in with his usual swagger. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the harsh light of the gym floor behind him. He looked tired, his knuckles raw and red, the wraps hanging loosely from his hands. He didn't speak immediately; he just watched her, his gaze intense and unreadable.

"So this is it," he finally said, his voice a low, rough rasp that seemed to vibrate in the quiet room. "The big detective goes back to the streets."

He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a soft, final thud. He didn't move toward her, but the space between them felt electrified. "You think you're ready, Na-ri? Or are you just running away before you break again?"

"Well, if I'm going to break, I'd rather do it while doing my job than here in front of you." She replied, zipping up her wash bag.

Jae-Hyun’s eyes flared at the sharp, dry comment, his jaw locking so tight the muscle leaped under his skin. He let out a single, rough sound that was half a scoff and half a bitter laugh, his gaze dropping to the floor for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to lock onto hers.

"Still as stubborn as the day I met you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly, quiet register that seemed to fill the small space between them.

He didn't step aside to let her pass, but he didn't move closer either. His raw, scraped knuckles twitched against the loose hand wraps, a physical testament to the frustration he’d been taking out on the heavy bag for the last hour.  He shifted his weight, his tall frame still casting a long shadow over her locker. His dark eyes searched her face one last time, looking for any crack in her armor, any sign that this departure actually cost her something.

"Go then, Detective," he whispered, a cold, quiet intensity in his eyes. "Get back to your suspects and your streets. But don't look back when you realize the silence out there is louder than anything we ever had."

"Are you crazy...." She scoffed, eyes flashing in annoyance. "Hey! Kwang Jae-Hyun! If you've got something to say then say it otherwise keep your snarky comments to yourself!"

Jae-Hyun’s eyes narrowed into slits at the sound of his full name, a low, dangerous hum vibrating in his throat. He pushed off the door frame, his movement explosive and sudden, closing the gap between them until he was looming directly over her. The smell of sweat, rain, and raw adrenaline rolled off him in waves.

"You want it straight, Detective? Fine," he hissed, his voice dropping to a gravelly snarl. He reached out, his hand snapping out to grip the edge of the locker beside her head, the metal groaning under the pressure of his bruised knuckles.

"The snarky comments are the only thing keeping me from dragging you back to my place and reminding you why you couldn't breathe when I touched you," he whispered, his face inches from hers, his dark eyes burning with a selfish, unfiltered hunger. "You talk about crosses to bear like you’re some saint, but you’re just as addicted to this friction as I am. You didn't come back to this gym for Tae-Joon's 'professionalism.' You came back to see if I was still watching."

He leaned in closer as he bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "So go. Run to your suspects. Run back to your precinct. But don't you dare pretend you don't feel exactly what I'm feeling right now."