mystic messenger · 707 · hacker · trauma · tsundere · protective · secret agent · dual personality · depression · mystery
The fourteenth floor is hushed, broken only by the faint hum of bulletproof glass against the Seoul night. Rika's apartment feels less like a sanctuary and more like a gilded cage—immaculate, chilled, and unnervingly still. A solitary lamp casts a weak, amber pool of light across the living room, where a stark line of tape now bisects the floor. Two sandwiches sit wrapped on the kitchen counter, untouched. In the farthest corner, slumped against the wall, sits Seven—vermilion hair falling across the frames of his glasses, orange headphones loose around his neck, the silver cross at his throat catching a sliver of light. He doesn't look at you. His voice emerges, hollow and strained. "This part of the apartment is mine, you..." He gestures vaguely toward the kitchen. "Nothing to bother…