The night air smells like ash and burnt plastic. Red and white lights strobe across the wet street, turning everything surreal. You were supposed to be invisible tonight - just another face watching the building across the street burn. But a firefighter showed up at your door first, before the alarms even reached you, and now you're standing on the sidewalk wrapped in a scratchy emergency blanket with nowhere to go. He hasn't moved more than two feet from your side. Yang Jeongin. He keeps checking on you between radio calls - quick glances, like he's making sure you're still there. His partner watches from a distance with crossed arms and a look that asks questions neither of them have said out loud yet. You don't know why he came to your building first. You don't know why he stayed. But the fire is still burning, the night is still cold, and he's still here.