Before the morning sun had quite managed to disperse the thin mist of an early spring morning, our apartment was already filled with the faint scent of coffee and the soft clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen. Dawn in this small city on the outskirts always arrived with a gentle stillness, both in the air and in the heart. Every morning, when I opened my eyes at half past seven, the space beside me was already empty and cool, but the sounds and scents drifting through the apartment always reminded me, before I had even fully woken, of where I belonged-and of the man who was still here, always here, waiting for me.

At thirty, after nearly a year and a half of hard work at the Danhyeon branch of the Suwon District Prosecutor's Office, paired with my previous background in the police force and a few notable accomplishments in my current role, I had been promoted to team leader and was now guiding my own subordinates. The rhythm of the work remained much the same: a few weeks buried so deeply in criminal investigation files that we barely had time to eat or sleep, followed by a few quieter days that felt almost like a chance to loosen our shoulders, breathe out, and gather ourselves again, when everyone simply dealt with minor cases and waited for the end of the working day.

The biggest shift, however, lay in what had developed between the two of us. Last year, after coming to truly understand each other's hearts, Prosecutor Joo Tae-seon and I officially became a couple. Then came that terrifying experience that had nearly torn us apart forever. The scars it left behind had yet to disappear, especially from Tae-seon's heart. It made him worry over me and fuss over me to an almost excessive degree, and even now, he had not quite stopped.
After our first trip together the previous summer, he suggested that we move in together.

We chose a small city near Danhyeon, accepting a slightly longer commute each day in exchange for the peace of living somewhere where no one knew us. We had never regretted it.

This year marked the end of his two-year assignment at Danhyeon. Under standard rotation rules, he was reassigned to another district office, still within Suwon. Fortunately, the distance from our apartment to our respective offices remained roughly equal, so the commute time didn't change. The only thing that irked him was that he could no longer drive right behind me all the way to the office parking lot as he used to. Every morning he would grumble about it, but a gentle tug on his shirt corner and a lingering glance from me were always enough to completely melt away the 36-year-old's annoyance.

Since our paths diverged each morning, he insisted on upgrading my car to a mid-size Mercedes-solid, low-profile, and quietly sophisticated, fitting my discreet style as an investigator. I had initially refused, reluctant to use his money and feeling my old car was perfectly fine, but seeing the genuine worry in his eyes, I yielded so he could have peace of mind.

"Ready? Come have breakfast before you leave, Chae-ha."

Tae-seon stepped out of the kitchen, placing a tray of breakfast on the table. He always woke up earlier than I did, reviewing case files while preparing breakfast. At thirty-six, he maintained a strikingly disciplined lifestyle, yet within that rigid precision, he always left a warm, soft space exclusively for me.

"You got up early again," I murmured, stepping closer to rest my chin on his shoulder from behind, my voice still carrying a touch of morning drowsiness despite having washed up and dressed.

Prosecutor Joo set the tray down, turned to wrap his arms around my waist, and buried his face in the crook of my neck for a deep breath before looking up. The sharp features, high bridge of his nose, and the piercing gaze I remembered from my former superior softened just a fraction.

"Thinking about dragging myself through boring work in an office without you makes it hard to sleep," he grumbled softly, his large hand cupping my face with a gentle rub. "Let's eat, Chae-ha."

I straightened his tie before sitting down beside him. Knowing my palate, he rarely served meat for breakfast anymore. Eating together, he had long since slowed his pace so I wouldn't feel rushed to catch up, and he no longer read files at the table. So I took my time enjoying the toast, soybean paste soup, soft-boiled egg, and a glass of warm milk under his affectionate, watchful gaze.

In the past, because I ate slowly and hated keeping others waiting-and often lacked an appetite altogether-I used to eat very little and very hastily. I had managed to break that habit considerably. Sometimes, watching me eat, he couldn't help himself; he'd reach over to stroke my hair and say, "Look at Lee Chae-ha, eating so well now!" Every time, the childish praise made my face flush red-who talks to a grown adult like that? But he knew my weakness: I couldn't resist his tenderness, and secretly loved it. Embarrassed as I was, I would lower my head and try my best to hide my smile.

At the door, he pulled me in for a slow, deep kiss-careful not to mess up my hair or clothes, though it thoroughly disheveled my heart and breath. That reluctance to part stretched all the way down into the parking garage. After I started my engine, he didn't return to his car right away; instead, he knocked on my window. I rolled it down, and he reached in, unlatched the door, pulled me out, and guided me into the shadow behind a large concrete pillar.

There, in the dim light, he kissed me again-this time with a urgent, possessive intensity, his hand gripping the back of my neck as if trying to etch every drop of warmth into memory before we faced the day.

"Alright... Tae-seon, we'll be late," I murmured, pushing gently against his chest with a soft smile as I caught the unsatisfied hunger in his eyes.

"Drive carefully. Text me when you get there," he instructed, his thumb lightly brushing my cheek.

Our cars pulled out of the garage one after the other. He maintained his habit of following behind me until we reached the major junction branching off toward different districts. Through the rearview mirror, I watched his car turn in the opposite direction. A small, familiar pang tugged at my chest.

Walking down the 5th-floor hallway, I ran into Prosecutor Han-the replacement assigned to Tae-seon's position. He was a middle-aged man with old-school mannerisms, neatly combed graying hair, and an impeccably formal professional smile.

"Team Leader Lee, has the verification for the Southern financial fraud case been finalized?" Prosecutor Han paused, his tone serious and slightly rigid.

"Nearly there, Prosecutor Han-the investigators have gathered all bank records. I will have the summary report on your desk this afternoon," I replied with a polite bow.

He gave a satisfied nod and walked off. Looking at his retreating back, an involuntary comparison crept into my mind. If it were Joo Tae-seon, he wouldn't be standing in the hallway asking for updates. He would have scolded me for being sluggish, taking seven days for a task that should take three, while eyeing the clock to rush home on time. I would have quietly grumbled while working late into the night to finish it. And when I handed it over, he would soon march over, drop the file onto my desk, tap his fingers on the wood, and use that signature harsh tone to point out every flaw, scolding me for not digging deeper-only to drop off a hot cup of coffee right after and quietly pull up a chair to review every line with me until dawn.

I stepped into my new office. It was slightly larger than my previous one, complete with my own nameplate, yet it felt strangely hollow-as if the space had tripled while the number of people inside remained the same.

"Team Leader Lee! How do I input this report? These identification codes are so confusing!"

Mr. Kim started complaining the moment he spotted me. I had no idea how he had managed to stay in this profession long enough to be nearing retirement while remaining so hopelessly inadequate at the actual work, whether it was investigation or even basic office skills.

Still, he was good at getting by, good at socializing, and always had a habit of bringing me various kinds of pastries, even though I was never particularly fond of sweets.
I stepped away from my desk, and patiently showed him each step on the computer.
"I'm going to die. The pay is miserable and the files just keep piling up like this."
Uncle Kim grumbled, patting his shoulder. "If only I were young and talented like you. You know, ever since Prosecutor Joo left, Room 502 feels strangely cold, even though when he was here I was stressed every single day. Just one look from him before he even spoke was enough to send chills down my spine..."

All I could do was give an awkward smile without answering.

Afterward, I spent time walking a newly joined investigator through basic interrogation techniques. The young man scratched his head, listening respectfully with eyes full of admiration.

Everything around me moved along its usual axis. I fulfilled my role as team leader, keeping operations running smoothly. Yet every corner of this Danhyun branch was steeped in memories of Prosecutor Joo and me.

I glanced toward the closed door of Room 502 at the end of the hall. Joo Tae-seon's nameplate was no longer there, yet his tall figure seemed to linger everywhere in my mind. Looking at the thick stacks of files on my desk, I heard his stern voice directing me to verify details. Looking at the interrogation summaries, I could almost hear his sharp tone reprimanding me whenever my work fell short. I remembered the tense strategy meetings where he stood by the board, his sharp eyes directing our every move. I remembered fieldwork in pouring rain, when he would quietly stand windward to block the storm for me. He was the hardest on me, yet he was also the only one who was quietly proud, encouraging, and steadfast by my side through every case.

And above all, I missed our stolen moments of passion.

The breathless, hurried kisses behind the locked door of Room 502 after closing a major case, when the crushing work pressure melted into intense physical and emotional craving. Or those late nights when the rest of the staff had gone home, and he would quietly slip into my office, lock the door, pull me up onto the desk, and kiss me until my lips swelled and my chest heaved-long after the kiss had ended.

A wave of aching longing suddenly surged, tightening my chest. The harder I tried to remain composed, the more I realized just how desperately I missed Joo Tae-seon.

Leaning back in my chair and gazing out the window, I caught myself smiling. A man who hid a tempest of passion behind a cold exterior, who loved kissing, and who possessed a fiercely possessive streak like Tae-seon must be going out of his mind with frustration working somewhere without me. He had a flaw we were both well aware of: he was unreasonably jealous-jealous of acquaintances, strangers, and even the very air around me. Picturing me working alongside other male colleagues without his watchful eye, he was probably burning up inside. He was likely sitting there imagining every potential rival: young male team members, Mr. Kim who was always overly friendly, the new investigators constantly crowding around asking questions... And when the frustration grew too much to focus on his case files, he might quietly swear under his breath or slam his fist onto the desk to blow off steam. The image was at once amusing, endearing, and sweet.

Time ticked away, and the quiet afternoon unfolded slowly, leaving ample room for my mind to wander. My colleagues pretended to stay busy, occasionally tossing out routine complaints while secretly tending to their own matters-except for the new investigator, who remained earnestly buried in his files. I rested my head back, watching the fading afternoon light through the glass. Back when we worked together, I used to think that coming home to the same apartment at night and spending weekends together was more than enough for a relationship we had to keep hidden within the prosecution service.

Yet sitting in this office without him, I realized I had grown greedy.

My heart was no longer satisfied with short evenings or two peaceful days together at the weekend. I wanted our life back the way it was-sharing everything, sharing our work, our office, and the very air we breathed from morning till night. I wanted to leave the house together, drive the same route, see him every hour, debate case details, watch his brow furrow in annoyance when I missed something, and hold his hand beneath the table during endless meetings.

I let out a soft sigh, my eyes settling on the phone on my desk. It vibrated lightly, the screen lighting up with a familiar name and a brief text:

"The files here are unbearably boring. My colleagues are incompetent. The investigators are hopeless. I want to come home to you."

The corners of my lips curved upward as I quickly typed back:

"I miss you too, my Prosecutor Joo."

A new ambition began to take root in my mind. I would build up my record and pursue every opportunity for evaluation or transfer in the coming cycle. At all costs, I would find my way to his prosecution office. Because at thirty, after everything we had been through, I knew the single best distance in the world was the distance between my desk and Joo Tae-seon's-in the very same office, even if it were a remote branch at the edge of nowhere.