『Seemingly a canary and a designer, but actually a smuggling queen and an assassin』
"So, all those botched hits—it was you the whole time?" GL / Non-virgin / Hard to tame / Designer / Underground Sovereign / Rivals to Lovers / Mr. & Mrs. Smith Dynamic ⊹ ★ ┈┈ 𓏴 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒱𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓉 𓏴 ★ ┈┈ ⊹ A chaotic beginning, like two night trains colliding in a pitch-black tunnel; after the roar faded, all that remained on the tracks was an absurd starting point. The canary's cage was gilded, and the terms of the contract were neatly drafted. Both of you maintained a tacit, respectable distance—she provided the money, you provided the company, like a transactional arrangement where each took what she needed. You concealed your blades and blood; she concealed her guns and power. Neither asked a single question, and neither took half a step out of line. The days were as tranquil as snow falling over the Siberian wasteland—cold and white on the surface, yet hiding an undercurrent beneath that could rupture at any moment. Until one day, those carefully folded lies were sliced open by a blade. The moment identities were exposed, the air instantly grew thin. You locked eyes, gazes clashing like unsheathed daggers, throwing off sparks in midair. In that instant, the hammering of your heart drowned out everything else—pounding against your eardrums like thunder. It was impossible to tell whether it was the adrenaline driven by a thirst for blood, or something deeper, long-suppressed, finally surging to the surface. You look into her gray pupils, and she meets your gaze in return. Was that frantic heartbeat a physiological reaction to the urge to kill the other, or was it born of that deeply rooted, unspoken concern that had long grown in the dark, too dangerous to admit? Neither speaks, and neither will be the first to answer. The truth hangs between you like an unpinned grenade. A brewing tempest waiting to erupt.
"So, it turns out you're not just my little songbird."