Chapter 2

I barely got any sleep. My mind kept replaying everything—the surgery, Lingling's strange smirk, the headlines flashing across my screen.

By morning, I dragged myself back to the clinic, hoping I could just do my job without any more surprises.

That hope died the second I walked in.

Lingling's bodyguards were still there, stationed like statues at the entrance. The air in the clinic felt... different. Tense. Like the entire building was holding its breath.

The nurses whispered in hushed voices as I passed. Some gave me wide-eyed looks. Others avoided my gaze entirely.

When I stepped into the recovery ward, I saw why.

Lingling Kwong was sitting up in bed, looking perfectly at ease despite her injury. A silk robe draped over her hospital gown, her dark hair falling over one shoulder like she was lounging in a five-star hotel.

And she wasn't alone.

Two new figures stood beside her—both radiating an aura of quiet menace. One was a tall, sharp-eyed woman in a fitted suit, and the other was a broad-shouldered man with scars on his knuckles.

They all turned as I entered.

Lingling smiled, slow and deliberate.

"Good morning, Doctor Kornnaphat."

My stomach tightened.

"Uh... morning." I glanced at the newcomers. "And you are?"

Lingling gestured lazily. "These are my associates. I asked them to meet you."

I frowned. "Why?"

She tilted her head. "Because we have much to discuss."

I exhaled, already dreading whatever this was. "Miss Kwong, you need to rest—"

"I appreciate your concern," she interrupted smoothly, "but my body is healing just fine. And I don't like leaving debts unpaid."

I stiffened. "You don't owe me anything."

Lingling's smirk deepened. "That's where you're wrong." She leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes locking onto mine.

"You saved my life, Doctor Kornnaphat. And in my world, that means something."

The room felt smaller.

I took a slow breath. "I told you—I treat everyone the same. It doesn't matter who you are."

Lingling studied me, as if trying to decipher something hidden beneath my words. Then, after a moment, she laughed.

Soft. Amused. Dangerous.

"You're an interesting woman, Doctor," she murmured. "I think I like you."

I swallowed. "That's... nice?"

She chuckled. "I'd like to offer you a deal."

I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of deal?"

Lingling's smile was razor-sharp.

"I heard about your clinic's financial troubles." She gestured around. "Struggling with debt. Barely holding on."

My heart stopped.

How did she know that?

Lingling continued, unfazed. "Let me help you. I can make those problems disappear." She tilted her head. "All I ask in return... is your cooperation."

I went still.

"Cooperation?" I repeated slowly. "That sounds a lot like involvement."

Lingling's smile didn't waver. "You wouldn't have to do anything unethical. Just... be my doctor. On-call. Exclusive."

I stared at her, my pulse thudding in my ears.

She was offering me everything—a way to keep my clinic afloat, to free myself from the crushing weight of debt.

But at what cost?

I inhaled sharply. "And if I refuse?"

Lingling's eyes gleamed.

"You won't."

I clenched my fists.

Because deep down, I knew she was right.

I did need the help.

I crossed my arms, keeping my voice steady. "I appreciate the offer, Miss Kwong, but I'll have to decline."

The room went silent.

Lingling's expression didn't change, but I felt the shift in the air. The two bodyguards beside her stiffened slightly, exchanging glances.

I kept going before she could interrupt.

"It's my job to save people. I don't do it for favors, and I certainly don't do it for deals." I met her gaze, unflinching. "If you want to compensate me, just pay for the days you're staying at my clinic. That's all."

For the first time since I met her, Lingling Kwong looked... surprised.

It was subtle. A flicker in her dark eyes. A slight tilt of her head. But I caught it.

She wasn't used to this.

She wasn't used to being told no.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to say something, but then she did something unexpected.

She laughed.

Soft at first—then full, rich, like she had just heard the most interesting thing in the world.

The two bodyguards looked confused, shifting uncomfortably as Lingling's laughter echoed in the room.

I blinked. "Did I say something funny?"

Lingling grinned, her dark eyes gleaming with something new. Something intrigued.

"Oh, Doctor Kornnaphat," she murmured, leaning back against her pillows. "You are fascinating."

I frowned. "I just said I wouldn't take your deal."

"Yes," she said smoothly. "That's what makes you fascinating."

She was watching me differently now—like a hunter who had just found prey that actually put up a fight.

I suppressed a shiver.

Lingling tapped her fingers against the bedframe, her smirk never fading. "Do you know how rare it is for someone to refuse me? Especially when I'm offering them everything they need?"

I shrugged. "I'm not interested in owing people favors."

She hummed, eyes studying me like I was a puzzle she had suddenly become obsessed with solving. "Not many people have the courage to turn down something so tempting."

I held her gaze. "I'm not one of your people, Miss Kwong. I'm a doctor. And I run my clinic my way."

Lingling's smirk deepened.

"Oh, really interesting," she murmured, almost to herself.

I swallowed hard.

This was bad.

Not because I was in danger. Not because I had just refused a literal mafia leader.

But because I had just caught the attention of Lingling Kwong.

And something told me—she wasn't the kind of woman who lost interest easily.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the weight of Lingling's lingering gaze. Without another word, I stepped forward and checked the health monitor beside her bed, watching the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Her vitals were stable, her body temperature normal. She was healing—quicker than I expected, honestly.

I adjusted the IV drip, ensuring she was getting enough fluids. Lingling didn't say anything, but I could feel her eyes on me, watching my every movement like I was some rare creature she had just discovered.

I refused to acknowledge it.

"There," I said finally, straightening up. "You're stable, but you still need rest. Don't try to leave too soon."

Lingling's smirk didn't waver. "Doctor's orders?"

"Yes." I turned away. "Follow them."

With that, I left the room, exhaling the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

I needed to get back to my normal routine.

To the real reason I was here.

—

I made my way to my office, shutting the door behind me. For a moment, I just stood there, pressing my fingers to my temples. Lingling Kwong was something else. She carried an energy that was dangerous—not just in the criminal sense, but in the way she unsettled me.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away.

Focus.

I stripped out of my casual jacket and changed into my white coat, slipping on my most comfortable pair of shoes. The ones I practically lived in. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I wasn't the woman who had just refused a mafia leader's offer.

I was a doctor.

A professional.

And I had patients to see.

The morning moved quickly. I saw an elderly woman with chronic migraines, a young boy with a sprained wrist from soccer practice, a businessman with stress-induced insomnia. Normal, everyday people with normal, everyday problems.

This was what I loved. Helping people. Fixing what was broken.

It should've been enough to keep my mind busy.

But in the quiet moments between patients, my thoughts still drifted back to Lingling Kwong.

And the way she had looked at me—as if I was the most interesting thing in the world.

By lunchtime, I was exhausted. Not physically—treating my patients gave me energy—but mentally, I was drained. No matter how much I focused on work, Lingling Kwong lingered in the back of my mind like a shadow that refused to fade.

I grabbed a quick meal from the cafeteria and retreated to my office, hoping to eat in peace. I had barely taken two bites when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I called, already bracing myself for more work.

But when the door opened, it wasn't a nurse.

It was her.

Lingling Kwong, dressed in a silk robe over her hospital gown, standing in my office doorway like she belonged there.

My stomach tightened.

"Miss Kwong," I said slowly, setting my fork down. "You shouldn't be walking around yet."

She smiled, stepping inside as if she hadn't heard me. "I was feeling restless. Thought I'd take a walk." Her eyes flicked to my desk, where my barely touched lunch sat. "Am I interrupting?"

I exhaled, leaning back in my chair. "Yes, actually."

She smirked, clearly amused by my lack of enthusiasm. "I like that you don't pretend to be polite with me."

I sighed. "What do you want?"

Lingling's dark eyes studied me, her expression unreadable. "I wanted to thank you. Properly."

I raised a brow. "I already told you, just pay for your stay, and we're even."

"That's not enough," she said smoothly, stepping closer. "You didn't just treat me, Doctor. You saved me."

I shrugged. "That's literally my job."

She tilted her head, as if trying to make sense of me. "You really believe that, don't you?"

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lingling chuckled, shaking her head. "Most people wouldn't have done what you did. Not without knowing who they were saving." She leaned slightly against the desk, her gaze never leaving mine. "But you didn't hesitate. You didn't ask questions. You just helped."

I crossed my arms. "Are you surprised by that?"

"A little," she admitted. "People like me... we're not usually treated with kindness unless there's something to gain."

I scoffed. "Maybe you've been around the wrong people, then."

That seemed to amuse her even more.

"You're an unusual woman, Doctor Kornnaphat."

I rolled my eyes. "So I've been told."

She grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "I like unusual things."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you flirting with me right now?"

Lingling's smirk deepened. "Would you be offended if I was?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Miss Kwong—"

"Lingling."

I looked up. "Excuse me?"

She leaned in just slightly, her voice lower, softer. "Call me Lingling."

My heart did an annoying little flip in my chest.

I straightened in my chair, clearing my throat. "You should go back to your room. You still need rest."

Lingling watched me for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to push further. Then, to my relief, she straightened up.

"As you wish, Doctor," she murmured. But before she turned to leave, she added, "You'll be seeing me again, you know."

I exhaled sharply. "Because you're staying in my clinic for a week?"

She smiled. "Because I've decided I'm not done with you yet."

And with that, she walked out, leaving me with my cold lunch and a racing heartbeat.

I groaned, dropping my head onto my desk.

This woman was going to be trouble.

...

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, but my mind kept drifting back to her.

There was something about the way she carried herself—effortless, poised, entirely in control. She didn't just exist in a space; she commanded it. Even injured, she walked like she owned the world and everyone in it.

It was unsettling.

It was... impressive.

I sighed, shaking my head as I finished my last appointment. I needed to stop thinking about her.

By evening, I was reviewing patient charts in my office when Nurse Priya peeked in, looking nervous.

"Doctor Kornnaphat," she said hesitantly. "Your VIP patient is in the garden."

I frowned, setting down my tablet. "What?"

"The hospital garden," Priya clarified. "She asked for fresh air, and, well... no one wanted to tell her no."

Of course they didn't.

I sighed, pushing back my chair.

I found Lingling exactly where Priya said she'd be—seated on a stone bench beneath the soft glow of lanterns, her silk robe draped elegantly around her. Her bodyguards stood at a respectful distance, watching the perimeter.

She was smoking.

I crossed my arms, approaching her. "Seriously?"

Lingling glanced up at me, exhaling a slow curl of smoke. "Ah, Doctor Kornnaphat. Come to scold me?"

"Yes," I said flatly. "You were shot less than forty-eight hours ago, and you think smoking is a good idea?"

She smirked, flicking ash into a nearby tray. "It helps me relax."

I snatched the cigarette from her fingers and crushed it under my shoe.

Lingling blinked, then let out a soft laugh.

"You're bold," she murmured, amusement lacing her tone.

"You're reckless," I countered.

She tilted her head, watching me with that same unreadable gaze. "You really don't fear me, do you?"

I sighed. "You're my patient. Should I be afraid of all my patients now?"

Lingling chuckled, stretching her legs out. "Most people would be uneasy around someone like me."

I met her gaze. "Should I be uneasy?"

A pause. Then, she smiled—a real one this time, not the practiced smirks she usually wore.

"No," she admitted. "I don't think you should."

For some reason, that made my chest feel a little too warm.

I cleared my throat. "Good. Now, since you're feeling well enough to sneak out here, I assume you'll be following my orders and actually resting from now on?"

Lingling chuckled, shaking her head. "You really are relentless, Doctor."

"It's called doing my job."

She stood, moving with the kind of slow, deliberate grace that made it seem like she had all the time in the world.

"I like you, Doctor," she said simply. "You're different."

I rolled my eyes. "So I've heard."

She smirked, then turned toward her bodyguards. "Come. Let's not keep our dear doctor up all night worrying about me."

I watched as she walked back into the hospital, her presence lingering even after she was gone.

Trouble.

This woman was pure trouble.

So why did I feel like I had just stepped into something I couldn't walk away from?

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I tossed and turned in my bed, staring up at the ceiling of my dimly lit apartment, my mind refusing to quiet down.

I told myself it was the stress of the clinic—the mounting debt, the endless cycle of patients, the weight of responsibility that never seemed to ease. But I knew that wasn't true.

It was her.

Lingling Kwong.

The way she looked at me, like she had figured something out about me before I even understood it myself. The way she moved, unhurried, in control of every inch of space she occupied.

The way she laughed—not forced, not calculated, but amused, intrigued.

I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face.

She was just a patient.

A patient who just happened to be a mafia leader with bodyguards, an aura of untouchable authority, and an infuriating ability to stay lodged in my thoughts.

I turned on my side, hugging my pillow.

This was dangerous.

Not because she was a criminal—not really. I wasn't afraid of her.

But because something about her made me feel seen.

And that? That was unsettling.

Because I had spent so much of my life burying myself in work, in duty, in the never-ending cycle of fixing people. It was comfortable, predictable. But then Lingling Kwong walked into my life—bleeding, wounded, and entirely unbothered by her own vulnerability—and suddenly, I felt exposed.

Like she could see through me.

I shut my eyes, willing myself to sleep.

I had patients to treat in the morning. I had a clinic to keep running.

I couldn't afford to be distracted.

—

The next day, I arrived at the clinic earlier than usual, hoping to ground myself in routine.

The moment I stepped through the doors, Nurse Priya was already waiting for me, looking exasperated.

"Your VIP patient is walking around again," she said in a hushed voice.

I sighed. "Of course, she is."

Priya shook her head. "She's in the lounge. Drinking tea like she owns the place."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, gathering my patience before heading toward the lounge.

Sure enough, there she was.

Lingling Kwong sat by the window, a porcelain teacup held delicately between her fingers, the morning light casting a golden hue across her face. Her dark hair was loose today, cascading over one shoulder, and despite still wearing the hospital robe, she looked immaculate.

Like a queen holding court.

Her bodyguards stood nearby, silent and watchful.

She looked up as I approached, her lips curling into that ever-present smirk.

"Good morning, Doctor Kornnaphat," she greeted smoothly.

I crossed my arms. "Bed rest, Miss Kwong."

She took a slow sip of her tea. "I prefer to start my mornings with fresh air and a warm drink."

I sighed, sitting across from her. "You were shot two days ago."

"Yes, and thanks to your skilled hands, I'm already feeling much better." She set her cup down, her gaze settling on me like she had been waiting for me to come to her. "You should take pride in your work, Doctor."

I exhaled through my nose. "I do. That's why I expect my patients to listen to me."

Lingling chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Tell me something, Doctor Kornnaphat."

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

She tilted her head, studying me like I was an interesting puzzle. "Do you ever take a break?"

I frowned. "What kind of question is that?"

She raised a brow. "A simple one."

I hesitated.

Did I take breaks? Really?

I worked. I went home. I thought about work. I slept—barely. Then I did it all over again.

Lingling must have seen the answer in my silence, because her smirk softened into something almost... thoughtful.

"You should," she murmured.

I blinked. "What?"

"You should take a break." Her voice was quieter now, lacking the teasing edge from before. "Even the most dedicated doctors need rest."

I swallowed, caught off guard. "I—"

"Come," she interrupted, standing up gracefully.

I stared at her. "What?"

She gestured toward the door. "Let's take a walk."

I let out a short laugh. "You're my patient, not my therapist."

She smiled. "Maybe. But I insist."

I should have said no.

I should have told her to go back to bed, scolded her like I had before.

But for some reason, this time... I didn't.

I stood, ignoring the way my stomach tightened as she extended a hand toward me—not to hold, just a simple, open gesture.

A choice.

I exhaled slowly and stepped forward.

Lingling's smirk deepened, and together, we walked out of the lounge.

We strolled through the quiet hospital garden, the morning air crisp against my skin. I wasn't sure how I let myself get talked into this, but here I was—walking side by side with her.

Lingling moved with effortless grace, despite the fact that she should still be recovering. She didn't seem to be in pain, didn't let even the smallest sign of weakness slip. If I hadn't been the one to dig a bullet out of her just days ago, I wouldn't have believed she had been shot at all.

Silence stretched between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

It was... charged.

Like we were both waiting for something.

Finally, Lingling spoke.

"You've been thinking about my offer."

It wasn't a question.

I exhaled, shaking my head. "No."

Her lips curled slightly. "Lying doesn't suit you, Doctor."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "Even if I were thinking about it, my answer is still no."

Lingling hummed, stepping ahead of me slightly. She turned, walking backward so she could face me, hands tucked behind her back, utterly at ease.

"Why?" she asked.

I narrowed my eyes. "Because I'm a doctor. I don't work for criminals."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I never asked you to do anything illegal, Orm. I just want to keep you safe."

Something about the way she said my name—smooth, deliberate—made my stomach tighten.

"I don't need your protection," I said firmly. "I can take care of myself."

Lingling stopped walking. I did too, watching as she studied me with a look I couldn't quite place.

"I don't doubt that," she murmured. "You're strong. Stubborn."

Her gaze flicked down, just for a second.

"Tired."

I stiffened. "Excuse me?"

She smiled, slow and knowing. "You work yourself to the bone. You save everyone else, but tell me, Doctor—who's saving you?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists. "I don't need saving."

Lingling stepped closer, lowering her voice. "And yet, your clinic is drowning in debt. Your staff is overworked. You're holding everything together with sheer willpower."

I clenched my jaw. "I'll figure it out."

"I can help you."

I exhaled sharply. "For a price."

Lingling tilted her head. "Everything comes at a price. But my offer is simple—you get my protection. My resources. My money. And in return, I get a doctor I can trust."

I frowned. "You make it sound like a business deal."

Her smirk deepened. "Isn't it?"

I hesitated.

She wasn't wrong.

If I took her offer, I wouldn't have to worry about shutting my doors. My nurses would be paid, my patients would get better care, and I... I wouldn't have to carry the weight alone anymore.

It was tempting.

Dangerously so.

Lingling must have seen something in my face because she stepped even closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

"I don't expect you to say yes right now." She held my gaze, dark eyes glinting in the morning light. "But think about it, Doctor."

I swallowed, trying to ignore the way my heart was hammering in my chest.

Before I could respond, Lingling turned, walking away as if she hadn't just planted something deep in my mind.

Something I wasn't sure I could ignore.

...

The doctor's resting area was small but comfortable—worn-out couches, a cluttered coffee table, and the faint aroma of instant coffee lingering in the air. It was one of the few places in the clinic where I could pretend, even for a little while, that my life wasn't consumed by patient charts and financial stress.

I sat with Charlotte, Namtan, and my nurse Priya, sipping my coffee as we talked about nothing in particular.

"I swear, if one more patient Googles their symptoms and tells me they have a rare tropical disease when it's just the flu, I'm quitting," Charlotte groaned, tossing a peanut into her mouth.

Namtan laughed. "The worst ones are the YouTube doctors. 'Well, I saw this guy online say you can cure a headache with chili powder and meditation—'"

I shook my head, smirking. "At least they're not asking for antibiotics for a viral infection."

Priya sighed. "I once had a patient who asked if we could 'just remove' their gallbladder at their convenience, like it was a haircut appointment."

We all chuckled, the exhaustion of the day momentarily lifted by shared frustrations.

Then, the door burst open.

A young nurse—Song—stood in the doorway, her face pale.

"Doctor Kornnaphat," she said, breathless. "The VIP patient—her wound is bleeding."

I shot up from my seat, my coffee forgotten.

"How bad?" I asked, already heading for the door.

"She didn't say much," Song replied, hurrying to keep up. "Just told me to get you. But there's blood on the sheets."

Damn it.

I quickened my pace, my colleagues exchanging looks before following behind.

When I entered Lingling's room, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, a fresh bloom of red staining her hospital gown.

She looked up at me, her expression unreadable. "Doctor."

I didn't reply. I was already at her side, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbing the first-aid kit from the nearby counter.

"You moved too much," I muttered, carefully peeling back the fabric around her abdomen.

She let out a small, amused breath. "I walked to the lounge, not ran a marathon."

I shot her a sharp look. "You're not supposed to do either."

Lingling didn't argue, which was somehow worse.

The moment I exposed her wound, I felt my jaw tighten. The stitches were still intact, but the skin around them was irritated, and a thin line of fresh blood trailed down her side. Not catastrophic, but definitely not good.

I grabbed a gauze pad, pressing it firmly against the wound. "You're lucky it's just surface bleeding," I said, my voice softer now. "If the stitches tore, you'd be back on the operating table."

Lingling exhaled slowly, her posture stiff. I could tell the pressure hurt, but she didn't so much as flinch.

Too damn composed.

"You're impossible," I muttered, shaking my head.

She smirked, despite the situation. "You sound concerned, Doctor."

I ignored that. "Lie down. I need to clean this properly."

For once, she didn't argue. She leaned back against the pillows, watching me with that same quiet intensity as I worked.

The room was silent except for the soft sounds of my movements—sterile wipes tearing open, the quiet clink of instruments against the metal tray.

Lingling finally broke the silence.

"You have a very gentle touch."

I paused for half a second before continuing. "It's called being a doctor."

She hummed. "No. Some doctors are rough. You... you're careful. Precise."

I swallowed but said nothing, focusing instead on securing a fresh bandage over her wound.

Lingling watched me the entire time, her gaze unreadable.

Finally, when I was done, I stepped back, exhaling.

"You're going to stay in bed this time," I said firmly. "Or I will personally strap you to it."

Lingling's lips twitched. "Kinky."

I closed my eyes, exhaling through my nose. "Lingling Kwong."

She chuckled, but there was something softer in her expression now.

I sighed, taking off my gloves. "Just... don't push yourself. Please."

Something flickered in her eyes.

For a moment, she looked like she was about to say something else—something serious.

But instead, she just smirked again. "As you wish, Doctor."

I didn't know why that made my heart race.

I exhaled, stepping back from the bed, my pulse unsteady.

Lingling lay there, one arm resting over her stomach, the other casually draped over the sheets. She looked relaxed, but her eyes—they were sharp, watching me like she was seeing something beyond just my face, beyond the layers of professionalism I carefully kept in place.

Something in my chest tightened.

I should have left. I needed to leave.

But I hesitated.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips. Despite the fresh bandage covering her wound, despite the traces of exhaustion lining her expression, she still looked so... beautiful. Untouchable.

She tilted her head slightly, her dark hair spilling over the pillow.

"You're thinking about something," she murmured.

I stiffened. "No, I'm not."

Her lips curved. "Liar."

I looked away, reaching for the medical tray, busying myself with organizing supplies I had already put in order. "Just rest. You're still healing."

"You deflect when you're uncomfortable," she noted.

I froze for a fraction of a second before forcing myself to move again. "I'm not uncomfortable."

Lingling chuckled, low and amused. "Another lie."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the tray.

Why was she like this? Why did she pick up on things so easily?

It was irritating.

No. Not irritating.

Unsettling.

Because I had spent years perfecting this version of myself—calm, professional, unreadable. It was what made me a good doctor. It was what kept me in control.

But Lingling Kwong? She saw through me like it was easy.

I clenched my jaw. "Do you make a habit of analyzing people?"

She smirked, as if she enjoyed the way I bristled. "Only the interesting ones."

I swallowed. My throat felt tight.

This was dangerous.

Not because she was a criminal, not because of her money or her power—but because she got under my skin.

Because when she looked at me like that—like she was curious about me—I didn't know how to look away.

I needed to leave.

Now.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to regain my composure. "Try not to move too much," I said, my voice carefully neutral. "If you start bleeding again, I'm not going to be gentle next time."

Lingling smirked, tilting her head slightly. "Mmm. I think I'd like to see that."

I let out a sharp breath, turning on my heel. "Goodnight, Miss Kwong."

She chuckled as I walked out, her voice following me like a shadow.

"Goodnight, Doctor."

I stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind me, pressing my back against the cool wall.

My heart was racing.

I took a slow, steady breath, trying to calm it.

This was bad.

This was very, very bad.

Because I was starting to realize something.

Lingling Kwong wasn't just getting under my skin.

She was already there.