"Don't mistake it for kindness... because I rarely give things away for free."
~~~~~
You are no stranger to dangerous men, but when the infamous, sinfully hot Jungkook Jeon stumbles into your hospital, you find yourself swept into a mafia turf war l...
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In the sterile embrace of the hospital, Haneul's declaration cut through the air, unflinching and clear. "You've been shot," she said, her voice a steady beacon amidst the sudden whirlwind of chaos.
He responded with a wry twist of his lips, a humor that seemed to grapple with the shadows in his eyes. "I know... I was there when it happened," he quipped, a feeble attempt to lighten the gravity of his predicament.
Haneul's gaze sharpened, her mind racing with medical precision. "There's no exit wound. You need to be checked in-vitals, blood loss, the works," she insisted, her tone brooking no argument.
He was quick to dismiss, his voice firm, leaving no room for debate. "No check-ins," he stated, as if used to issuing commands that were promptly followed.
"But your life's on the line," she countered, her professional concern at odds with the direness of his condition.
His gaze met hers, intense and probing. "And you're not going to let that happen, right?" His words were a challenge, a plea wrapped in the guise of defiance.
A shiver, not of cold but of responsibility, ran through Haneul. "Listen, I'm the doctor here, and I say-"
He cut her off, his voice a notch higher, edged with a quiet desperation. "Just get the bullet out, patch me up, and let me walk out of here. No paperwork. Got it?"
She took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne-a spicy, earthy blend-clashing with the antiseptic hospital air. As she stood, her gaze inadvertently landed on his lips, soft and full, a stark contrast to the tension etched across his face.
"If he's asking for no records, he's tangled in something deep," Haneul thought, her instincts as a healer warring with the moral crossroads she faced.
He must have caught the flicker of hesitation in her eyes because he reached out, his touch unexpectedly gentle, as he coaxed her chin upward. "Do you need me to beg, doctor?" he murmured, his voice a low thrum that seemed to vibrate through the silence.
"I want to help you, but my license is on the line," she protested, the weight of her words heavy in the air.
He smiled then, a crooked, disarming grin. "I won't tell a soul, doc. You have my word," he whispered, his breath a warm caress against her ear.
That promise sent a flutter through her, unexpected and unsettling. She nodded, her agreement a whisper. "Okay... I'll help you."
Suddenly, a scream-a raw, desperate sound-echoed down the corridor. Haneul's first instinct was to run towards it, but he was quicker, his grip firm, a gun now in plain sight.
"Sorry, but we need to speed this up," he urged, his voice laced with an urgency that brooked no argument.
"Why? What's happening?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern.
