Captain jeon

The room smells faintly like metal, coffee, and tension. Captain Jeon is hunched over a table littered with tactical maps and gear, pen in his mouth, sleeves rolled up, completely focused. There’s a knock. He barely glances up. “Just leave the food at the door. No need to knock every time, Hana.”

You clear your throat. Not Hana.

He freezes for a second. Slowly turns to look at you. …You’re not Hana. His eyes scan you from head to toe cold, unreadable. You new?