(A/N: I actually had this chapter written out for a while, but I ran into some technical problems that postponed the release. Sorry about that. Hope you guys enjoy!

For any that are curious on how I developed this chapter and some fun facts, visit my blog at lcliwrites dot wordpress dot com.)

Guardian Angel

2
enigma

::-::

He sees her workplace the next day.

It's a tidy little elementary school, where Chu Ga Eul teaches various crafts to a small class of bright-eyed, chubby-cheeked children. Today's special is air-dry clay, which the students gleefully mold into lumpy shapes that are probably supposed to resemble animals.

"Teacher," they call eagerly, "come look!"

And, although all of the sculptures look the same in Yi Jeong's eyes, Ga Eul is somehow able to tell the difference between amorphous cats and dogs, whether the animal is supposed to emulate the student's beloved pet, and even when something that looks like a rhinosaurus is supposed to be a sleek unicorn. She gives each of them a lovely compliment, mellowing out even the most problematic of children.

Seeing her, with that angelic smile on her face, gently guiding the students' hands with her own, sends a feeling that warms Yi Jeong's chest.

She would make a wonderful mother.

The thought arrives before he can stop it. He tries to explain it away—of course she would make an excellent mother, that is hardly an inappropriate conclusion—but the nagging voice in his head does not let him deny what he really meant by that comment.

::-::

Chu Ga Eul's mind is a jumble by the time they leave the school.

She has been distracted the entire day, concerned with the fact that she would look like an idiot in front of Yi Jeong—a paradox, since worrying about that made her act like an idiot anyway. There's just something about him that sets her on edge; something that sends her skittering whenever he comes within three yards of her; something that she just can't control...

Suddenly, she feels something drive into her shoulder, breaking her train of thought. It's a frenzied businessman, sprinting after a departing taxi. He doesn't even stop to apologize as she stumbles.

A sturdy hand catches the small of her back.

"Careful," Yi Jeong says. He's close enough that she can feel his breath brush against her ear.

"T-thank you," she mumbles, shuffling away. She surreptitiously turns her face away to hide the flush in her cheeks.

Why? Why does Yi Jeong have to be so handsome? The more time she spends with him, the more she can't help but feel like there should be some sort of legal limit on how good-looking a bodyguard could be. Part of her even wishes that her father had hired a bodyguard with more… average looks. Either that, or at least a personality horrible enough for her to ignore his appearance.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

The sudden harshness in Yi Jeong's voice makes Ga Eul whip around. She witnesses a young man, whose hand—extended towards her purse—is currently bent back at a very painful angle by a stern-looking So Yi Jeong.

"L-let go, old man!" he mumbles, bending forward in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

Yi Jeong pulls back even further, extracting a yelp from the youth. "What was that? I'm sorry for pick pocketing and I won't do it again?"

"Tch! No way in h—ow!"

"You were saying?"

"Okay, okay! Just let go!"

"Does that mean, I understand that my actions have repercussions, and should I resort to any criminal activity again, I'll accept the consequences?"

"Y-yeah, sure!"

Yi Jeong releases his wrist. He stumbles back, subtly rubbing the sore joint.

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding," Yi Jeong says placidly.

The youth leaps to his feet, and, with a final terrified glance at Yi Jeong, sprints down the street. Ga Eul glances at her bodyguard, tightening her grip on her purse.

"I'm surprised he didn't put up more of a fight," she says.

"I think he just valued his life," Yi Jeong says. His tone is teasing, but his gaze seems distant.

Ga Eul gently puts her hand on his arm. "We probably should've just reported him to the police," she says.

"Don't worry," Yi Jeong says. "He won't cause any more trouble."

"How can you be so sure?" Ga Eul murmurs.

Yi Jeong's jaw barely tightens. "I have experience with his type," he says cryptically.

Something about his expression tells Ga Eul that he has more than just experience, but she decides not to press further. She isn't sure that she is ready to search for the truth.

::-::

He slips out during dinner, when he knows that Ga Eul will be surrounded with family (and a score of elite guards). He doesn't like the thought of leaving his charge even for one minute, but he can't help it. He has some unfinished business to take care of.

It's only a few minutes before he reaches his intended destination: a long, dilapidated alleyway, reeking with years of neglect and misuse. He catches the overpowering smell of rotten eggs and blood.

It's familiar enough for him to consider home.

A glint of metal catches his eye. It's a keypad lock—a pretty new one, from the looks of it, all shiny and unmarred. It doesn't fit with the dingy surroundings, the graffitied alleyway, the trash littering the ground.

He reaches to the lock, fingers resting over the keypad.

"It's been a while," he says, to no one in particular.

Then he punches in the numbers—rapidly, without hesitation. Eight digits, one after the other.

Beep.

The door clicks. Yi Jeong pulls the handle to the left; it slides open without a whisper.

He enters the room. Although it isn't small by any means, it certainly feels cramped—ratty sofas and torn beanbags stuck in every crevice, old cigarette butts scattered on the ground, overturned boxes slumped against the walls. The middle of the room is occupied by a large couch, upon which a shady figure lies, examining the cracking ceiling as if it is life's biggest puzzle.

"I see you still haven't changed the password," Yi Jeong says, sliding his hands into his pockets.

The figure doesn't budge. "I see ya still remember it," he says.

Yi Jeong moves further into the room. He catches the strong whiff of cigarette smoke, but ignores it. "What are you doing, Woo Bin?" he demands.

The figure leisurely pulls himself up, slinging his legs over the couch with sudden agility. At his full height, he's formidable—torn vest, ragged jeans, with broad shoulders and a toned figure.

"Look'tcha, all prettied up," he says with a grin. "Ya look like a girl."

Yi Jeong keeps his gaze even. "I didn't come to banter with you," he says.

"Ya should've. It's been a while, yeh?" Woo Bin slouches against the wall, resting his thumbs in his pockets. "Last I saw ya, we were slippin' the pocketbooks from the wealthies smooth as butter on a sizzle knife." His smile turns a touch grim. "Them was the good days. Look'tcha now."

Yi Jeong forces his muscles to stay relaxed. "Why are you sending reconnaissance after me?" he presses.

Woo Bin raises a single eyebrow. "Recon, eh?"

"That boy. He tried to pick pocket my charge and I recognized the brand on his wrist. He's one of yours."

Woo Bin pinches his cigarette with two fingers and removes it. "Ya know, not all the guys with that brand are my folks." His gaze hardens. "Can think o' more than a few that ain't with me 'nymore."

Yi Jeong's own gaze is just as cold. "Stop interfering with my career," he says. "It's pissing me off."

Woo Bin's eyes narrow. His cigarette falls on the floor; he grinds it into the ground with his heel. "You lookin' for a fight, Echo?" he growls.

"I'm looking to get my life straightened out." Yi Jeong turns. "Like you should have."

He strides to the door, every sense alert for a possible backstab—but Woo Bin only calls after him.

"Echo."

Despite himself, Yi Jeong slows to a halt.

"That girl o' yours," Woo Bin says. "She catch your eye?"

A pause. Then Yi Jeong speaks.

"You keep away from her, or I will kill you."

His tone is even. He says it as if he's commenting on the weather.

That is how Woo Bin knows that he is serious.