The night's adrenaline faded slowly as they moved through rain-streaked streets, every lamp throwing fractured halos across the curve of Amal's cheek. Min-jun matched her stride and swung their joined hands, a touch boyish, a touch possessive; he hadn't felt so light in years. Still, beneath that ease was the pulse of danger—the knowledge that someone, somewhere, was always watching. But for a few moments, he allowed himself the privilege of normality: leading her up steps to a tiny 24-hour café tucked behind a row of art supply stores.
Inside, warmth rose from the grates and mingled with the smell of coffee and caramel. Amal slid into a booth and laughed, brushing a strand of paint-stiffened hair from her face. "I can't believe I almost died twice tonight…and now I'm here, craving waffles."
Min-jun slid in beside her, crowding her a little as though worried she might vanish if he let her too far from his side. "Waffles are the best cure. Immortality runs on caffeine, you know." He grinned, then sobered, thumb circling over her knuckles. "And maybe a little on you."
She poked his side, blushing. "Is that your way of flirting? Because it sounds more threatening than sweet."
He leaned in. "I'm a vampire. It gets confusing."
Their laughter caught the attention of the elderly waitress, who hovered tableside with a notepad and a knowing smile. "You two look like you've been out all night raising hell or falling in love. Or both."
Amal flushed, and Min-jun winked. "A little of both, maybe." He ordered coffee for himself and hot chocolate for her, insisting—much to Amal's rolling eyes—that this was the only thing mortals should drink after midnight. "Trust me. Chocolate is a universal antidote to trauma."
As steaming mugs arrived, Amal cupped hers, savoring the fleeting normalcy. She traced a pattern in the foam, thoughtful. "Do you ever wish things could stay simple? Just…coffee and conversation?"
Something pensive crossed Min-jun's features. "Sometimes I envy mortals. Simplicity is a luxury you only realize you've lost after centuries of complication. But I never envied anyone until you." He covered her hand with his, anchoring himself in the moment.
Before Amal could answer, her phone buzzed. A cryptic message flashed: *Seen your new painting on display last night. You're getting careless with your talent, darling. Careful there are no collectors who want to keep you for themselves.* No name. No sender.
A chill crept up her arms. She studied Min-jun's face, saw his expression go still. He read the text, gaze rippling with the knowledge of too many years spent dodging obsessive eyes and more dangerous appetites.
"Collector?" she whispered, voice tight with worry.
He nodded, growing serious. "There's a network—immortals obsessed with human beauty, talent, genius. Some collect paintings…and some collect artists. Literally." His hand squeezed hers, protective but scared. "I was hoping you'd stay off their radar. The rivals from last night? Just the start. There are worse. If they set their sights on you, not even I can stop every one of them."
Amal shivered but forced a laugh. "I have you, remember? That has to count for something."
He tried to smile, but it came out apologetic, vulnerable. "You've already paid the price for being near me, duckling. I promised you thrilling. Didn't know it'd come with this much risk."
She softened, tucking her head on his shoulder. "You gave me back my memories. I'm not sorry. Besides, danger's always been a part of the best stories."
They finished their drinks and, despite exhaustion settling into her bones, Amal felt bolstered—armored by the strange, sweet bubble of safety that only Min-jun's presence seemed able to provide. She looked up, mischief glinting. "What if we made a plan? Fight obsession with more obsession. If these collectors want a show, let's give them something so dazzling they forget to think. An art exhibit they'll never recover from."
He raised a brow. "You mean…bait the monsters?"
She grinned. "Exactly. I'll paint the truth of us—hidden, coded, alive. You protect the gallery, make sure whoever comes to claim me gets more than what they bargained for."
For a moment, Min-jun just stared, awe mixing with fear. "You're insane. Brilliant, but insane."
"Better. I'm inspired. Isn't that what muses do?"
He laughed, tension easing, then drew her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Whatever happens, we're in it together. Even if it means painting targets and luring wolves."
Their laughter, tired and real, was the last sound in the sleepy café as the world spun on, both of them silly and reckless, planning their next big moment in the face of an ever-watchful, ever-obsessed enemy.
Still, in the darkness outside, the collector watched through a rain-smeared window, eyes shining with greedy anticipation. The game had only just begun.