That morning, the street was livelier than usual.
A few customers stopped by the flower stand where he was arranging fresh roses under the sun.
Among them was a girl—young, cheerful, the kind who smiled at everyone without hesitation.
She leaned close, too close, as she chose a bouquet.
"These look so pretty! Did you grow them?" she asked him brightly.
He froze, shy as always.
"N-No… I just arranged them."
"That's impressive," she said with a giggle, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"You have really nice hands."
He didn't know what to do, so he just nodded awkwardly.
And that's when she arrived.
The girl Jack had sent.
She had been walking toward the stand with her usual gentle smile…
but the moment she saw him talking to the other girl—
and worse, saw that girl leaning toward him—
her smile froze.
Her steps quickened.
Her eyes narrowed just a little.
Her jaw tightened.
"Good morning—" she started to say, but stopped mid-sentence when she heard the other girl giggle again.
He handed the cheerful girl the bouquet she chose.
Her fingers brushed his.
She blushed.
And that was it.
The spy girl's expression shifted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
A twitch of the eyebrow.
A tightening of the lips.
A deep inhale that she absolutely did not need to take.
She walked straight to him and stood beside him, way too close—
so close the other girl jumped slightly.
"Who's this?" she asked sweetly,
with a smile so sharp the flowers behind her wilted in fear.
"Oh—um—just a customer," he stammered.
The other girl nodded and smiled.
"Yes, I was just buying—"
"Great," the spy girl cut in with a sugary tone.
"So now that you've bought it, you can go."
The customer blinked.
"Oh—uh—okay… thank you?"
She hurried away.
The spy girl stayed silent until the girl disappeared around the corner.
Then she turned to him, arms crossed, trying (and failing) to look casual.
"You seem… busy today," she muttered.
He looked confused.
"A little, yes."
"And she was… very friendly," she added, voice slightly higher than usual.
"She was just buying flowers."
"She touched your hand."
"It just happened when I gave her the bouquet…"
"She giggled."
"She giggles at everything, I think—"
She narrowed her eyes at him dramatically, then pointed at the roses.
"Well, from now on, I get to help you with the roses."
He blinked. "…Why?"
"No reason."
She tossed her hair stubbornly.
"I just do."
He tried not to smile, but he couldn't hold it back.
"You're jealous."
Her eyes widened, scandalized.
"Me? Jealous? Of her?"
"Yes."
"Well— I— it's— that's—" she sputtered, then huffed loudly.
"I'm not jealous. I'm just… protective of my investment."
"Investment?"
She froze.
"…I mean—friend. Protective of my friend."
He laughed softly.
It was the first real laugh she'd ever heard from him,
and she hated how much she loved the sound.
She crossed her arms again, cheeks pink.
"Fine," she mumbled.
"Maybe I was a tiny bit jealous."
He smiled at her—warm, shy, grateful.
And her entire heart stumbled.
Because she knew she wasn't supposed to feel anything.
But jealousy…
was something you couldn't fake.That night, after she left the flower stand,
her steps slowed as she entered the dark alley she always used to call Jack.
But this time…
she didn't call.
She stood there, her hand trembling above her phone,
unable to press the screen.
Not after everything she felt that day.
Not after jealousy, not after laughter,
not after that tiny, innocent smile he gave her.
But the phone vibrated on its own.
Jack.
A cold shiver ran through her spine.
She swiped to answer.
Before she could speak,
Jack's voice filled her ear—low, sharp, impatient.
"You're taking too long."
She clenched her jaw.
"I'm doing everything you asked."
"Not fast enough," he hissed.
"He trusts you now.
It's time for the next step."
Her stomach twisted.
"Which is?" she asked, though she already feared the answer.
A smile crept into Jack's voice—
she could hear it.
"Bring him to me."
Her breath caught.
"What? Why now?"
"Why not now?" Jack replied coldly.
"You said he depends on you.
You said he smiles at you.
He'll follow you anywhere."
She swallowed.
Her voice barely came out.
"He… he won't expect that."
"That's the point," Jack snapped.
"Surprise is useful.
Trust is useful.
And you wasted enough days already."
She tightened her grip on the phone.
"I need more time."
Jack paused.
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
Then:
"You're getting attached, aren't you?"
Her heart dropped.
"No," she said quickly.
"It's just—"
"Stop lying to me," he said, voice like ice.
"You forget how well I know you."
She felt exposed.
Naked in her own lies.
"She's losing control," Jack said mockingly, as if speaking to someone beside him.
"Imagine that… the girl who fooled a dozen men can't handle one broken flower boy."
She closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to steady.
"I can do it," she whispered.
"I just… need to do it carefully."
"No," Jack said firmly.
"You'll do it tomorrow."
She stiffened.
"Tomorrow?!"
"Yes."
His tone turned calm—too calm.
"As a date, a walk, an errand… I don't care.
Just bring him."
Her throat tightened painfully.
"Jack… he trusts me."
Jack smirked through the line.
"Good.
Then it will hurt more when he realizes what you really are."
Her eyes watered.
Not from fear—
from guilt she wasn't supposed to feel.
"I don't want to hurt him that way," she whispered without meaning to.
Jack's voice darkened like a storm.
"That boy ruined my plans for a year.
He made a fool of me.
He escaped from me."
His voice dropped lower.
"He took something from me.
Now I'm taking something from him."
She covered her mouth, clutching the phone as if it was burning her skin.
"You do your job," Jack said quietly,
"or I'll come get him myself."
The call ended.
The alley fell silent.
Her breath trembled violently as she lowered the phone.
Tomorrow.
She had to bring him tomorrow.
But for the first time…
she wasn't afraid of Jack's anger.
She was afraid
of the look in his eyes
when the boy she was starting to care for
realized she had led him straight into hell.
The next day, she arrived late.
Much later than usual.
He had already rearranged the entire stand twice, pretending not to wait for her…
but when he finally saw her walking toward him, his heart lifted—
only to fall again when he noticed something was wrong.
Her steps were uneven.
Her smile forced.
Her eyes… restless.
"Good morning," she said quietly.
He nodded, studying her face.
"You okay?"
She looked away.
"Yes. I'm fine."
But she wasn't.
Her hands were trembling as she reached for a bouquet.
She dropped two roses without meaning to.
He bent to pick them up.
"You seem… different today."
His voice was soft, worried.
Too worried.
It made her chest ache sharply.
"I'm just tired," she said quickly.
But her voice cracked a little, betraying her.
He stepped closer, concerned.
"Did something happen?"
"No," she whispered.
Then more firmly:
"No. Nothing happened."
But guilt burned under her skin.
She couldn't hold his gaze.
Couldn't endure the trust in his eyes.
Couldn't stand how gentle he was with her…
especially today.
"Do you want to walk with me?" he asked, hopeful.
She froze.
Walk with him?
Today?
The day Jack told her to bring him?
Her breath caught.
"I… I can't today," she said, taking a step back.
His expression shifted—confusion, then hurt he tried to hide.
"Oh. Okay… maybe later?"
She swallowed hard.
"Later… yes. Later."
But even that word tasted like a lie.
She turned away too quickly.
"I should go," she murmured, voice trembling.
"I'll see you later."
And before he could respond,
she left—
almost running.
He stood there, stunned, watching her disappear around the corner.
What happened to her?
Did he do something wrong?
Was she upset with him?
He didn't know.
But she knew.
She knew exactly why she fled:
Because if she looked at him one more second,
she'd break.
---
She didn't stop walking until she reached an abandoned lot hidden behind old buildings.
There, she leaned against a wall, breathing hard, her eyes burning.
She pulled out her phone and stared at the wallpaper.
Not a flower.
Not a sunset.
Not a pretty picture.
A photo of her and Jack.
Her brother.
Taken years ago—
before anger hardened him,
before obsession consumed him,
before life twisted him into the monster he became.
Her fingers trembled over the screen.
"Jack…" she whispered.
"You're all I have."
Her voice cracked.
"And he… he didn't deserve any of this."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"Why did you make me do this?" she whispered into the empty air.
"He's innocent. He doesn't even fight back.
He looks at me like—"
Her breath shook violently.
"—like I'm someone good."
She shut her eyes, choking back a sob.
But she couldn't betray Jack.
She couldn't.
He had raised her when no one else would.
Protected her in ways no one else knew.
Loved her with a broken, twisted love she never questioned.
Jack was cruel.
Dangerous.
Damaged.
But he was her brother.
Her only family.
Her only loyalty.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered to the wind.
"I'm so sorry…"
She slid down the wall, knees pulled to her chest,
torn between blood
and the first real affection she had ever felt in her life.
The cruel truth settled over her:
She loved her brother.
But she was starting to care for the boy she was meant to destroy.
And tomorrow,
she would have to choose one of them.