A Familiar Stranger

The cool night air offered little comfort as Taeyang and Jiwoon stepped out of the car, the silence of the residential street amplifying the tension that clung to them. Ahead, a modest house stood, its windows dark except for a faint glow from within. They hadn't even reached the porch when the front door burst open, revealing a young woman, her face etched with a frantic worry that transcended the dim light.

"Where have you been?!" she cried, her voice thin and ragged, trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"

The boy, who had been walking a few paces ahead, flinched, his shoulders slumping. He lowered his head, a heavy cloak of guilt settling over him. "Noona…" he mumbled, the single word barely audible, a plea for understanding rather than an excuse.

Taeyang, ever the picture of composed authority, stepped forward. His voice was calm, a steady anchor in the emotional storm, but there was an underlying firmness that left no room for doubt. "He was at the Han River."

Jiwoon, his hands already shoved into his pockets, let out a weary sigh. The simple gesture spoke volumes about the ordeal they had just endured. "He tried to jump off the bridge." His words hung in the air, blunt and stark, shattering the fragile calm.

The young woman's face froze, the color draining from her cheeks as if a sudden chill had swept through her. Her eyes, wide with alarm, darted between her brother and the two men standing before her. "What…?" The single word was a choked whisper, a plea for clarification, for a denial that wouldn't come.

The boy tensed further, his body rigid, avoiding his sister's horrified gaze. The unspoken truth of his actions hung heavy between them.

Taeyang continued, his voice now softer, tinged with quiet urgency. "We got there in time and pulled him back. He's safe, but… You need to talk to him."

For a long moment, she stood there, stunned into silence, processing the horrifying reality of what could have happened. Then, a raw, primal instinct took over. Without a word, she surged forward, her arms enveloping her brother in a fierce, trembling hug. Her whole body shook with the force of her emotion, a mixture of profound relief and simmering rage. "You idiot," she whispered, her voice thick with tears, a broken melody of love and despair. "You absolute idiot."

The boy's shoulders began to shake, silent sobs wracking his small frame. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

She held onto him as if afraid he would simply vanish, a phantom of what he almost became. The embrace was a silent promise, a desperate anchoring against the abyss.

After a long, drawn-out pause, she finally pulled back, her eyes glassy but brimming with an overwhelming gratitude that shone even in the dim light. She released her brother, turning to face Jiwoon and Taeyang, and bowed deeply, a gesture of profound respect and indebtedness. "Thank you," she began, her voice cracking, "I… I don't even know how to—" Her voice broke completely for a second, but with a visible effort, she steadied herself. "If you two hadn't been there, I don't know what would've happened." The unspoken terror of the alternative hung heavy in the air.

Taeyang, ever practical, shook his head, dismissing her thanks with a wave of his hand. "Just make sure he doesn't do it again." His words were a reminder of the gravity of the situation, a subtle warning for the future.

Jiwoon, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips, chimed in. "Yeah. He needs a real scolding." His tone was light, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

The boy groaned, his head snapping up. "Hyung, seriously?" he whined, the immediate threat of a lecture momentarily overshadowing the deeper trauma.

His sister shot him a withering glare, her earlier tears giving way to a more determined expression. "Oh, you have no idea what's coming." The promise in her voice sent a shiver down the boy's spine.

Jiwoon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that spoke of amusement. Even Taeyang, typically reserved, let out a quiet breath of amusement, a rare display of lightheartedness. The tension, for the moment, had eased.

After the boy's sister had thanked them profusely once more, Jiwoon and Taeyang left, walking side by side down the quiet street toward Taeyang's car. The earlier drama lingered in the air, a shared experience that had forged an unexpected, if fleeting, bond between them.

Taeyang stopped beside the driver's door, his hand resting on the handle. He turned slightly to face Jiwoon, a brief hesitation flickering across his features. It was a moment of decision, a silent weighing of the unknown. Then, extending his hand forward, his voice steady, he said, "I didn't properly introduce myself. I'm Hwang Taeyang. I work as a private investigator."

Jiwoon looked at the outstretched hand, a small, knowing smirk forming on his lips. He already knew exactly who Taeyang was—Hana's best friend, the man he had been unknowingly competing with in the complex dance of their lives. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.

Still, he grasped Taeyang's hand firmly, his grip strong and confident, shaking it with a practiced ease. "Lee Jiwoon," he replied, his voice calm, betraying none of the internal amusement he felt. "I'm an officer."

Taeyang raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his expression. "Oh? We kind of work in the same field, I guess." His gaze lingered on Jiwoon for a beat longer than necessary, as if trying to decipher the layers beneath the surface.

Jiwoon chuckled, a low, resonant sound. "Yeah. Something like that." The ambiguity in his voice was intentional, a subtle tease.

Taeyang unlocked the car with a soft click and glanced at Jiwoon, a question in his eyes. "Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?" The polite offer was standard, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity in his gaze.

Jiwoon studied him for a second, his keen eyes taking in the subtle signs of fatigue. The exhaustion was obvious Taeyang's shoulders sagged slightly, his usual sharp edges dulled by the long night and the emotional toll of their impromptu rescue. Jiwoon had already pieced together a significant amount about Taeyang from his investigations and observations, but Taeyang, he realized, knew very little about him. The asymmetry of their knowledge created an interesting dynamic.

"If you don't have any problem," Jiwoon said casually, his voice a smooth, even tone. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, "But let me drive. You look hella tired."

Taeyang narrowed his eyes, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. His pride was pricked. "I'm fine." The words were firm, a defensive wall against the perceived weakness.

Jiwoon's smirk widened. "Yeah? If you were any more fine, you'd be unconscious." His tone was light, but there was an undeniable truth in his observation. He wasn't just making a casual comment; he was stating a fact, delivered with a confidence that bordered on intimate knowledge.

Taeyang clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed by Jiwoon's blunt assessment. He was used to being in control, to projecting an image of unwavering competence. But something in Jiwoon's tone, the almost familiar ease with which he spoke, the directness that bypassed the usual polite formalities, made him hesitate. It wasn't just an observation; it felt like an assertion, a statement of fact from someone who genuinely knew his limits.

A beat passed, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in Jiwoon's words. Then, Taeyang sighed, the sound a soft surrender. "Fine. Just don't wreck my car." The concession was reluctant, but it was a concession nonetheless.

Jiwoon chuckled, a triumphant glint in his eyes as he moved around to the driver's side. He slid into the seat with an easy familiarity, adjusting the mirrors. "No promises," he quipped, his voice laced with amusement.

As Jiwoon adjusted the mirrors and gripped the wheel, a subtle shift occurred in the car's atmosphere. Taeyang found himself watching him closely, a new wave of introspection washing over him. There was something undeniably strange about this man. Something familiar, yet undeniably not. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he seemed to perceive Taeyang's fatigue – it all spoke of a connection that Taeyang couldn't place.

Taeyang rested his head against the window, the cool glass a welcome balm against his throbbing temples. His eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. The question, persistent and unsettling, began to form in his mind.

Just who exactly was Lee Jiwoon?

Had they met before? Or did Jiwoon know him somehow? The way he acted was so familiar, so comfortable didn't feel like a first meeting. It was like Jiwoon and he were best friends, or long-lost acquaintances, and Jiwoon possessed a deep, intuitive understanding of Taeyang, knowing his habits, his limits, even the subtle signs of his exhaustion. This level of comfort, of casual intimacy, was unsettling coming from a stranger. It was as if Jiwoon had been observing him, studying him, for a long time.

He must have drifted off, lulled by the gentle hum of the engine and the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. He stirred at the sound of a voice, its casual tone breaking through the haze of his fatigue.

"Taeyang, come on, dude. Don't die on me," Jiwoon's voice rang out, a touch of playful exasperation in his tone.

His eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the car windows. He realized the car had stopped, the engine now silent. They were parked in front of a small, quaint café, its warm lights casting inviting shadows onto the pavement.

Blinking, he turned his head to look at Jiwoon, who was casually holding out a chilled milk tea and a pre-packaged bun. The gesture was so natural, so thoughtful, it disarmed Taeyang completely.

"Eat. You look like you'll pass out any second," Jiwoon said, raising an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Taeyang stared at him, still groggy, the implications of Jiwoon's actions slowly sinking in. This guy… really was too comfortable. Too familiar. It was unnerving. He hadn't asked for anything, hadn't even suggested stopping, yet Jiwoon had anticipated his needs with an almost unsettling precision.

Wordlessly, he took the drink and the bun, the cold condensation from the cup a welcome sensation against his fingers. He sighed, a weary exhalation, as he sat up straighter, the simple act of receiving the food making him feel a strange mixture of gratitude and suspicion.

After Hana, Jiwoon was the only one who had gotten this comfortable with him, who had managed to breach the carefully constructed walls around him with such effortless ease. And the strangest part? Taeyang didn't even know who he really was. The knowledge gap gnawed at him, a tiny, persistent worry.

He took a slow sip of the milk tea, the sweet, creamy liquid a comforting warmth in his throat. His gaze flickered to Jiwoon, who was casually unwrapping his snack, a small, contented smile on his face, as if they'd been doing this for years, a regular ritual between old friends. The scene felt too domestic for two men who had supposedly just met hours ago under such dramatic circumstances.

Just who was this guy? The question reverberated in Taeyang's mind, demanding an answer. The suspicion, dormant for a while, began to reassert itself. He had always relied on his instincts, and right now, they were screaming that something was off.

Taeyang frowned, staring at Jiwoon, a silent challenge in his gaze. He needed answers, and he needed them now. He decided to confront it directly. "Excuse me, but… do we know each other?" The words were blunt, cutting through the casual atmosphere Jiwoon had created.

Jiwoon's smirk widened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink, drawing out the suspense. "Maybe." The single word was a deliberate provocation, a playful evasion that only fueled Taeyang's curiosity and suspicion.

Before Taeyang could press further, before he could demand a more concrete answer, Jiwoon casually stepped out of the car. He walked around to Taeyang's side, leaning down by the open window, his presence amplified in the confined space of the car.

"My house is nearby. I can walk from here," Jiwoon said smoothly, his voice a low, pleasant murmur. "Eat your food and then drive. Until we meet again, Taeyang." And just like that, with a final, knowing glance, he straightened up, turned, and walked away, disappearing into the muted glow of the streetlights, not even giving Taeyang a chance to respond, to ask the myriad of questions swirling in his mind.

Taeyang watched Jiwoon's retreating figure disappear into the night, a profound sense of bewilderment washing over him. His grip tightened around the plastic cup of milk tea, the cold condensation doing little to cool the sudden heat of his rising frustration.

Now I'm sure he knows me. The realization settled deep in his gut, a cold, hard knot.

But who was he? A threat or a friend? The ambiguity was unsettling, especially with the clandestine investigation he was currently entangled in, a case that was far too dangerous, far too intricate, to allow for any loose ends or unknown variables. Taeyang knew, with a chilling certainty, that he couldn't afford to trust anyone easily, especially not someone who seemed to know him intimately while remaining a complete enigma.

"Lee Jiwoon," Taeyang muttered, the name a whisper on his lips, sighing inwardly. The mystery of this man, who had so unexpectedly entered his life, was now another complication he couldn't ignore. He had a feeling their paths were destined to cross again, and when they did, he intended to uncover the truth.