He stands on the rooftop with Agent Choi, leaning slightly against the railing while looking down at the scenery half-heartedly. As his eyes inadvertently follow his hair fluttering in the cool morning breeze, the way the agent shrugs his shoulders and curls his lips into a smile is quite sly.

Hey, Choi.

The cool morning breeze sweeps roughly between the two of them once more.

He glances back at Agent Choi, who is feigning ignorance while staring at the view, and casually tosses out a question.

What do you think love is?

At the sudden question, it is clear that he intends to gloss over it with a joke, his lips curling into that characteristically slick expression of his.

That deceptive attitude—knowing full well yet pretending not to—is resentful, but at the same time, a small laugh escapes because it feels so much like Agent Choi. It didn't matter if he didn't get an answer. Just standing here by his side, facing the same wind, felt as if a surging warmth was filling the depths of his cold, frozen heart.