Rae-a moved swiftly through the winding alleyways beyond the masquerade hall, her breath steady despite the weight of her thoughts. The heavy fabric of her gown, once elegant beneath the chandeliers, now felt like a burden as she navigated through the dimly lit streets. Flickering neon signs painted the cracked pavement in hues of sickly green and electric blue. A stray cat darted past her feet, vanishing into the shadows.
She pressed a hand against the cool brick wall, forcing herself to focus. The drug operation had to be stopped. If the police caught wind of it, they would be forced to intervene, if only for the sake of appearances. A deal of this magnitude, one capable of escalating crime across the country, was too dangerous to ignore by the police. And this would be the first step in breaking his empire.
She needed Jun-ho's support. This was too big to take on alone.
But before she could take another step, the low shuffle of movement surrounded her.
Rae-a tensed. For fucks sake.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the empty alley. She turned her head slightly, catching the reflection of movement in a rain-slicked puddle. Four men. Maybe five. She straightened, exhaling slowly through her nose, calculating.
She had felt eyes on her during the masquerade, but assumed that was just because of the attention grabbing dress. But now that she saw these people here, she concluded that Chul-soo must have known she was there all along. That bastard did not even acknowledge her.
A small, bitter relief settled in her chest—she hadn't taken the document. It was a wise choice. If she had, her plan would have already been caught on to and she would have been back at square one, if not dead.
"You're a hard woman to find," a voice rasped.
She turned fully, eyes flickering over the figures emerging from the shadows. They were dressed well, in tailored suits that barely concealed the weight of the weapons strapped beneath. Their presence alone reeked of Chul-soo's influence. Her fingers brushed against the slit in her gown, curling around the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh.
"And yet, here you are," she murmured.
The sentence made her think back to Inho. Her heart tightened.
The men exchanged glances, as if hesitant, before stepping closer, blocking the exit behind her.
Her pulse remained steady. She had fought worse and came out just fine.
With a fluid motion, she unsheathed the knife, the sharp gleam catching the dim light of a buzzing streetlamp overhead.
A smirk curled at the lips of the man nearest to her. "Think you can take us all?"
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. She just pointed the knife straight at him as if to say, 'come and get me.'
And then—
The air shifted.
A familiar presence slithered into the space behind them, unseen but felt like a phantom threading through the dark.
The men stiffened. Rae-a-s eyes narrowed.
"Sir." One of them turned slightly, shoulders straightening in an instant. A ripple of recognition passed through the group as they turned toward the figure standing at the mouth of the alley.
Hwang In-ho.
Rae-a kept her gaze on the men, but occasionally flickered her gaze over to In-ho wondering why the fuck he was here. Was he following her?
'I dont want you getting hurt.' She remembered him admitting this earlier, but to the extent that he was following her movements? It is like he had no faith in her at all.
The dark mask was gone, but the weight of his presence alone was suffocating. The dim light barely kissed his sharp features, casting his face in cold, unforgiving shadows. His hands were relaxed at his sides, but Rae-a knew better.
He was never unarmed. Never vulnerable.
"What are you doing here, sir?" One of the men asked politely.
In-ho tilted his head ever so slightly, studying them the way a wolf might study prey that had wandered too close. Rae-a's grip on her knife tightened, her mind racing through every possible scenario. Was this some fluke? Some plan to make her more vulnerable before dealing the final blow? Or did he mean what he said?
His voice, when he finally spoke, was smooth. Measured.
"Taking care of unfinished business."
A whisper of movement.
Then silence.
A faint hiss of suppressed gunfire cut through the air, followed by the soft, wet sound of bodies hitting the pavement. One by one, the men collapsed before they even had the chance to reach for their weapons, their expressions frozen in shock.
Rae-a remained perfectly still, her knife still gripped tightly in her hand.
The scent of gunpowder lingered as In-ho finally lifted his gaze to her.
Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs.
He killed them and spared her.
She trusted him enough to know this was not a trap in the moment.
She exhaled slowly, lowering the blade.
In-ho took a step closer, his presence unshaken by the bodies cooling at their feet. He didn't look at them. Only at her, eyes fixated on her own.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
A simple question. Deceptively soft.
She hated the way her chest tightened in response. But part of her couldn't help but acknowledge that there are some lingering feelings behind her reaction. It still annoyed her regardless.
This isn't the time or place to act like a flustered high-school girl Rae-a.
Rae-a barely had time to react before his firm hand clamped over her mouth, silencing the sharp inhale that nearly escaped her lips. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her backward in one swift, fluid motion. She barely registered the shift before her back hit the cold, damp brick of the alley wall, the impact forcing a sharp exhale through her nose.
He was pressed flush against her, his body a solid, unyielding weight trapping her in place. The rough fabric of his suit brushed against her bare skin where the slit in her gown had shifted, an unintentional mockery of the refined setting she had left behind. His scent—faint gunpowder, metal, and something darkly clean—filled the narrow space between them, suffocating, intrusive. His grip over her mouth was firm but not cruel, fingers spread just enough to ensure she wouldn't bite down.
Rae-a's pulse pounded wildly, her instincts screaming at her to react—to shove him away, to reach for the blade still clutched in her hand and convince him to back off—but her body refused to obey. She could hear his heart beating against hers, the warmth of his large hand on her cool face. Her mind reeled, not just at the suddenness of it all but at the sheer audacity of him. The way his eyes, sharp and calculating, burned into hers in the dim alley light. The way he didn't so much as flinch under her glare, as if he already knew she wouldn't cry out.
His other hand, the one not muffling her protests, remained at his side, gun poised and ready, his grip steady, unwavering. Then, without a word, his gaze flicked away from her, shifting past her shoulder toward the mouth of the alley.
She felt it before she saw it—the shift in the air, the presence of more men closing in. The hurried clatter of footsteps echoed through the alley, sharp and urgent. They rushed in, breathless, their voices taut with alarm as they took in the scene before them. Corpses lay strewn across the ground in a grotesque sprawl, blood seeping into the cracked pavement, eyes frozen in the kind of lifeless shock that only violent death could bring.
The men stiffened, unease rippling through them like a cold wind. One of them cursed under his breath, stepping forward cautiously, his gun drawn but betraying the slightest tremor. "What the hell—" he muttered, scanning the carnage with disbelief. His gaze darted between the bodies, then back to his comrades, searching for an explanation that wouldn't come. "Chul-soo is gonna lose his shit. I thought she was unarmed."
No one answered. They didn't need to. The scene before them spoke louder than any of them could.
But what they failed to realize was that Rae-a hadn't done this.
Slowly, she lifted her head, her gaze shifting—first toward the blood-streaked ground, then up to the lone figure standing before her. His stance was rigid, his face unreadable. She watched him intently, eyes tracing every detail and imperfection on his face—the quiet tension in his jaw, the calculated stillness of his shoulders, the way his gloved fingers flexed ever so slightly on her mouth, as if preparing for whatever would come next.
And then, as if sensing the weight of her stare, he finally looked down.
Their eyes locked.
For a brief, electric moment, the chaos around them faded into the background. The shouts, the hurried rustling of weapons, the distant murmur of a phone call—it all dulled, insignificant against the storm brewing between them. Rae-a's fingers twitched at her sides, her breath steady but shallow.
One of the men muttered a curse, nudging a body with the toe of his shoe. Another yanked out his phone, voice hushed but urgent. "We need to move. If she's still close, she won't be alone for long."
Rae-a felt In-ho's grip tighten, on her face, just the slightest fraction, a silent warning. Stay still.
She didn't need the reminder. For once, she had no intention of moving. Not yet at least.
With a final, wary glance over their shoulders, the men turned and disappeared into the night, the urgency of their steps swallowed by the hum of the distant city.
Silence settled over them like a second skin.
In-ho remained still for a moment longer, waiting, listening. When he was certain they were alone, he exhaled softly, finally pulling his hand back.
The instant his hand left her mouth, Rae-a moved.
With a sharp shove, she pushed him away, hard enough that he had to step back to regain his balance. He let her. She didn't bother to see his reaction. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, breath shallow, vision sharp with the kind of clarity that only came from being seconds away from disaster.
She turned on her heel and strode off, fury and something else—something she refused to name—coiling tight in her chest.
She could only piece together one bit of information. He had been watching her. Stalking her. It was the only reasoning she could think of. Too many times, too many close calls, and every time, something had intervened just in time. She had chalked it up to luck. To skill. To coincidence.
No.
It was him. It had always been him.
She swallowed hard, gripping the edge of her gown as she walked faster, willing herself to focus on the next step, the next move, anything but the way her skin still burned from his touch.
Behind her, In-ho sighed, low and measured, dragging a hand down his face. That had been too close.
Risky. Reckless. A foolish move on his part. He had let instinct take over when he should have remained in control. If those men had turned around just a second earlier, if they had been paying just a fraction more attention on the bloodlust in his eyes, his cover would have been shattered, and they both would be dead.
He should have let her handle it.
But he hadn't.
And that, more than anything, told him exactly what kind of danger he was truly in.
With one last glance at the empty alleyway, he stepped forward, following her into the night.
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The click of her heels against the pavement echoed sharply in the night, her pace brisk, each step fueled by simmering anger. Rae-a didn't need to turn around to know he was following her. She could feel it—the weight of his presence, the calculated way his footsteps barely made a sound. He was always there. Watching. Intervening.
She snapped, annoyed by his presence and constant shadow behind her for the evening. "Are you enjoying this?"
Silence.
She whirled around, eyes flashing. "You always show up at the worst fucking times. Why?"
Or the best times, In-ho thought. It wasn't the first time that night that he had helped her.
In-ho halted, standing just a few paces away, his expression as impassive as ever. He didn't respond. He didn't need to. The answer was already written in the way he stood, unbothered by the confrontation. She scoffed, knowing her previous thoughts were right.
Rae-a let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I should've known. You always know where I am. Convenient, isn't it?" Her voice was laced with venom, but beneath it, something else—something raw. "What do you want, In-ho?"
He tilted his head slightly, considering her, then finally spoke. "Where are we going?"
She scoffed, shaking her head as she turned away, muttering under her breath, "Like you don't already know."
In-ho caught that. He always did. He read people like an open book, anticipating their next move before they even made it. But before he could say anything, Rae-a cut him off, her voice rising, sharp with frustration. She wasn't done.
"And what the fuck was that with Hyun-ju?"
She marched down the street furiously, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles blanched. Her chest rose and fell with the force of her anger, breath uneven, raw. "You got her involved! Not only that, but after everything—you refused to tell me anything about the games! You shut me out completely!"
For a split second, something in his expression flickered. Barely there. Almost imperceptible. But she caught it. The hesitance in his eyes.
Good.
Her eyes burned with accusation, searching his face for even the slightest sign of regret. "You think you can just pull the strings behind the scenes?" she continued, voice thick with barely restrained fury. "Do you even understand what you've done?"
His answer came swift. Unshaken.
"I kept you alive," he said evenly.
The words landed like a slap, sharp and cold.
Rae-a inhaled slowly, forcing herself to steady, though her nails dug into her palms. The weight of what he'd just said pressed down on her, suffocating, infuriating. He spoke as if her survival had been a favor. As if it had been his decision to make.
Her jaw tightened.
"You don't get to decide that."
She turned her head sharply, pausing in her step, glare slicing through him like a blade.
"And you sure as hell don't get to involve my friend in things that don't concern them."
Her stare lingered, drilling into him, searching. For what, she didn't know. Maybe an answer. Maybe an apology. But In-ho just stood there, silent, unreadable as ever.
She exhaled sharply. Enough.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The space between them crackled with unspoken words, accusations that neither was willing to voice. The sound of footsteps meeting the ground in syncronisation was all that could be heard. In-ho believed wholeheartedly that he made the right choice, it kept her alive. Rae-a was tired of other people getting involved in her business, by choice or not. Then, something dawned on her, and she froze.
Her voice dropped, suddenly quiet. "Hyun-ju thinks you're dead."
In-ho's jaw tightened, the only indication that her words had made him realise his mistake. He was so in fixation of her safety, he almost disregarded everything else subconsciously. Rae-a stared at him, intently. "If you go with me, your cover will be blown."
A long silence stretched between them. He didn't look away, but there was a shift, an understanding passing between them that neither wanted to acknowledge.
Finally, In-ho exhaled. "I'll wait further away from the door and make sure you get inside safe."
She nodded once, stiffly, before turning on her heel. The air felt heavier now, but she pushed forward, leaving him behind as she disappeared into the night.
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Rae-a barely had time to register the metallic tang of blood in the air before her stomach twisted violently. The door stood ajar, creaking softly, as if mocking her hesitation. A sliver of dim light from the hallway stretched inside, casting jagged shadows across the wreckage. The house was ruined. Furniture overturned, glass shattered into glittering shards, books strewn across the floor like discarded thoughts. But it was the blood—dark smears along the wooden planks, a trail leading inward—that made her breath catch in her throat.
"Hyun-ju!" Her voice ripped through the silence, raw, desperate.
Nothing. No answering voice, no movement beyond the slow sway of a curtain in the broken window's draft.
She expected this, but she didn't want it to be real.
Behind her, In-ho went still.
He had been watching her, waiting, but now hearing her distress in the distance, he stepped into the doorway and took in the destruction, he moved with sharp precision. Silent as always, assessing.
Rae-a didn't wait. She surged forward, pushing aside broken remnants of what once made this place a home. Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath ragged as her eyes darted across the room. Where is she? Is she still here? What if someone—
She came to an abrupt stop.
Amidst the chaos, one thing stood out, its placement too precise to be an accident.
At the center of the table, which had been left unnervingly neat compared to the destruction around it, sat a single polaroid. It was untouched, as though deliberately placed, an ominous message hiding in plain sight.
Her fingers hovered over it for a moment before she picked it up, her pulse a relentless drum in her ears. Something felt off—too calculated, too intentional. A slow, creeping dread settled in her chest, and despite herself, she couldn't shake the feeling that she already knew what she was about to see.
Hyun-ju's face stared back at her, swollen and bloodied. Her expression was dazed, pain laced in the dark smudges under her eyes. The sight of her friend like this sent a violent, electric fury coursing through Rae-a's veins.
Then she saw the words scrawled beneath the image.
Come and get them, Phantom.
A cold rush of rage overtook the initial shock. Rae-a's grip on the photo tightened, edges crumpling under the pressure of her fingers. Her breathing turned sharp, shallow. They had planned this. They had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Whilst she was away, and now...
He was baiting her.
And it was working.
A shadow loomed behind her. In-ho, who had been surveying the room, glanced over her shoulder, his breath unintentionally tickling her neck. His eyes flickered to the message, then back to her. He didn't say anything, but she felt the shift in him, the quiet tension in his stance.
Her vision tunneled, rage pressing against her skull. She crushed the photo in her fist, turned sharply on her heel, and made straight for the door.
A firm grip caught her arm before she could make it past him.
"Let go." The words came low, dangerous, barely contained beneath her fury.
In-ho didn't yield, his grip tightening just enough to keep her rooted in place, steady but unrelenting.
"You need to think, Rae-a."
She struggled against him, fingers clawing at his wrist in a desperate attempt to pry herself free, but it was useless. His hold remained firm, a silent warning that he wouldn't let her go so easily.
"They have her," she bit out, frustration laced with something far more raw—fear.
"And charging in without a plan will only get you killed," he countered, his voice low and edged with something dangerously close to concern.
She finally wrenched her arm from his grasp, stepping back, chest rising and falling unevenly. "They planned this. They knew when to take her. You think I don't know that? They tracked her. Probably used the fucking cameras, from the first night I found her, to find her. And now, they want me to walk right into their trap."
"Exactly." His voice was calm, controlled—too controlled. "So don't make it easier for them."
Her fists clenched so tight she could feel her nails digging into her palms, sharp and punishing. The air in her lungs felt scorching, too much and not enough all at once. She wanted to move, to do something, but every second wasted felt like a blade against her throat.
She was livid. If what she said was true then that means they knew where she was staying and chose to do nothing, waiting to get Hyun-ju when she was away. This was not about killing her. It was about crushing everything she had until she felt so broken that she would come running back.
In-ho stepped closer, his presence like iron, like a wall she couldn't break through, heat emanating off of him. "We do this smart," he said. "Or not at all."
Rae-a's jaw locked, her rage like a wildfire barely contained. Not at all was not an option.
She exhaled sharply, hands still trembling with adrenaline. "Then we move now."
Rae-a's breath caught, the words on the polaroid searing into her mind, each letter laced with cruel intent.
Come and get them, Phantom.
Them?
The ground beneath her seemed to shift, the weight of that single word sinking deep into her gut like a stone in water—cold, heavy, and suffocating. Her pulse, already frantic, faltered for a beat before surging back with brutal force, hammering against her ribs. A sharp inhale scraped against her throat, but it did little to dispel the creeping dread tightening around her like a vice.
Them. Plural.
This wasn't just about Hyun-ju.
There was something else.
Her grip on the polaroid tightened, fingers clenching until her knuckles turned white. The pieces snapped into place, jagged and unforgiving, each realization cutting deeper. The room blurred at the edges, the weight of understanding pressing down with suffocating finality. A cold shudder ran the length of her spine, her breath coming shallow, uneven, as the full scope of the situation settled over her.
Her body tensed. Her vision sharpened.
And then, in a single, crushing instant—realization struck.
She lunged for the coat rack, her movements abrupt, almost desperate. Her fingers grasped at the fabric of the jacket she had worn yesterday, hands trembling as she tore it from the hook. Digging into the pockets, she searched frantically, breath coming in quick, sharp bursts.
Her hands met nothing but empty space.
A strange numbness spread through her, followed swiftly by something far worse. Cold dread seeped into her veins, slow and suffocating. She flipped the jacket inside out, running her hands along the seams, as if by sheer force of will she could summon what was no longer there. But she already knew.
The photos she collected.
They were gone.
Her fingers clenched around the useless fabric, nails digging in before she exhaled sharply, the sound uneven, frayed at the edges. It did nothing to steady her.
Behind her, In-ho remained still, yet his presence was a weight against her back—a silent, unwavering force. He had been watching her the entire time, tracking every flicker of movement, every unguarded shift in her expression. His gaze sharpened at her words, something unreadable surfacing beneath his composed exterior.
"What?"
Rae-a swallowed, but the dryness in her throat made it feel like sandpaper scraping against raw nerves. Her mind was a relentless storm, a violent collision of fury and fear. The realization of what this meant—what they could do with those photos—settled like ice in her chest, freezing something deep within her.
"The photos are missing," she forced out, voice tight, restrained only by sheer will. She let go of the jacket as she turned fully to face him, her hands trembling from the pressure she refused to acknowledge. "Of my friends. The ones I took from the police station."
The air in the room thickened, suffocating in its silence. It was as if the walls had closed in, pressing against her, squeezing the oxygen from the space between them. Every passing second felt like a countdown, the weight of the situation pressing against her ribs, coiling tighter, threatening to snap whatever control she had left.
In-ho saw it—felt it.
The way she was slipping.
Much like the night she had been drunk, unraveling before his eyes, surrendering to emotions too heavy to bear. He recognized the same sorrow, the same rage, the same desperate recklessness clawing at her now, pulling her further away from reason. But this time, it was worse. This time, she was reaching a point where he might not be able to pull her back. If he didn't act now—if he let her drown in this fury—he might lose her for good.
His jaw tightened, thoughts racing, calculating, weighing options at a speed even he could barely keep up with. The lines of his carefully constructed web were tangled now, threads of control slipping through his fingers, fraying at the edges. If he wanted to protect her—truly protect her—then he would have to risk everything.
He would have to reveal more than he ever intended.
Even if it meant exposing the dangerous game he had been playing all along.
Even if it meant pulling her deeper into it.
Even if it meant losing the last piece of control he had left.
Rae-a's eyes burned with a mixture of fury and something dangerously close to despair as she met his gaze head-on.
"They have the photos, In-ho."
The room felt oppressive, the air thick with unspoken truths that weighed heavily between them. The photos weren't just scraps of evidence; they were a promise—one she had made to herself, to the dead, and to the families left behind in the wake of tragedy. She had planned to return them, to offer closure, to ensure that their loved ones weren't erased like phantoms without a trace. And now, the one thing tethering her to that promise had been stolen from her grasp.
The realization burned in her chest, a wildfire of urgency spreading through her veins. Without hesitation, she turned toward the door, her mind made up, her movements sharp with purpose.
"I need to get them back."
Before she could reach the handle, In-ho moved. His grip was firm, his fingers wrapping around her arm with enough strength to halt her in place, for the second time.
"No."
A single word, cold and absolute. It slammed into her like a wall, making her stiffen. Anger ignited beneath her skin, white-hot and unforgiving. She tore her arm free, fury flashing in her eyes as she turned on him.
"They have Hyun-ju," she spat. "They have the photos. I can't just stand here while—"
"And if you rush in now, you'll be dead before you even see them." In-ho's voice was unwavering, cutting through her rage with chilling finality. "They didn't take those photos to bait you into a fair fight. They're waiting for you to act on impulse. If you do, you're handing yourself over to them."
"I don't care!" she snapped, the raw desperation in her voice betraying her fury, cracking. "I have to—"
"You think this is just about you?" His tone hardened, laced with something unreadable. "You're already on their radar. If you go after them now, you won't just be putting yourself in danger—you'll be leading them straight to anyone you've ever been seen with. And they will know who to go for next."
The words struck like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs. The weight of them settled on her shoulders, suffocating, inescapable. If Chul-soo had those photos, it meant he knew. He knew what she had been after. He knew she had broken into the police station. And he would use that knowledge against her, twist it into something she couldn't control. Worse, anyone even remotely connected to her would become a target.
Rae-a's fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms as her body trembled, every muscle coiled tight with the force of holding herself together. Fury rippled through her, sharp and simmering, but when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter—deadly in its restraint.
"I was going to give their families peace."
A bitter exhale. A sharp inhale.
Her next words struck like a blade, honed and deliberate.
"Something you sure as hell wouldn't give them."
The words landed, and for a fraction of a second, something flickered in In-ho's eyes. A crack in the mask, fleeting yet unmistakable. Whatever it was, it vanished just as quickly, buried beneath a layer of cold calculation, replaced by something heavier, something harder.
He exhaled slowly, deliberately, running a hand through his hair. But she caught it—the tension laced in his frame, the barely perceptible way his shoulders stiffened. The restless twitch of his fingers before they curled into a fist, then forced themselves to relax.
He was thinking. He was hesitating.
And that meant something was wrong.
The weight of the situation pressed down on him, sinking deeper with every passing second. They had Hyun-ju. Not just her but photos of her friends too.
That could change everything.
And if he was right—if his gut feeling wasn't just paranoia—this could be more dangerous than he wanted to admit. More dangerous than even she realized.
But if he didn't admit it, if he didn't tell her the truth, he knew she would never forgive him.
The logical choice, the strategic choice, would be to withhold it. To manage the fallout, control the board, and deal with this as he always had—quietly, efficiently, from the shadows. But this was her. This was Rae-a. And for reasons he could no longer afford to ignore, he wanted to try.
He didn't think he deserved forgiveness. Not from her, not after everything. But if there was even the smallest chance of making her life a little less painful, of giving her something closer to happiness, even if only for a moment—
He was willing to take the risk.
Rae-a watched him carefully, her gaze sharp, dissecting every movement, every breath. She knew him too well to miss the shift in his demeanor, the storm beneath the surface. And in that silence, thick with unspoken truths, she realized—
Something had changed.
He looked conflicted.
And In-ho never hesitated.
Rae-a's eyes narrowed. "What?" she demanded, her patience razor-thin, her pulse roaring in her ears.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at her with an intensity that made the air shift, made her stomach tighten with something foreign and unfamiliar. It wasn't cold calculation this time. It was something else. Something deeper. The look of a man about to make a decision he couldn't take back.
Finally, his voice came, measured and quiet.
"There's something I've kept from you."
Rae-a let out a short, humorless scoff, her body coiled with tension. "No shit, you keep everything unsaid."
But In-ho didn't smirk. He didn't throw back a retort. He only held her gaze, the weight of his next words pressing down between them like an unseen force.
And in that moment, she realized—
Whatever he was about to say would change everything.
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The quiet hum of the city outside barely reached them, muffled by the weight of unspoken words. Rae-a's breath was still uneven, her body thrumming with restless energy from the nights events, when In-ho slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
Her instincts sharpened immediately, eyes locking onto him as he dialed a number with a deliberate calmness that set her teeth on edge. He lifted the device to his ear, gaze flickering to hers, watching. Always watching.
"Bring them here." A pause. "Track the address of the call." Another pause, this one longer. Then, with precise clarity, he spoke the name of her location.
Rae-a stilled.
Her stomach twisted, breath catching in her throat. The tension between them snapped taut, an invisible thread stretched to its limit. Bring who here?
Her fingers curled at her sides, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a vice, the mistrust building in her by the second. Then, with a burst of movement, she reached for the knife on the table, her grip firm, her body moving before her mind could catch up. The blade gleamed under the dim light as she lunged, swift and precise, pressing the cold steel against the bare skin of his throat.
"What the hell did you do?" she demanded, her voice a low, seething growl.
In-ho barely reacted. His hands lifted slightly in mock surrender, his expression unreadable as his dark eyes flickered between her and the knife. He was close enough that she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slight shift of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.
"You will find out soon," he murmured, his voice smooth, deliberate. "I wouldn't harm you, Rae-a."
Rae-a's grip faltered for a fraction of a second.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She could feel his warmth, could see the subtle way his muscles remained relaxed, calculated. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't resisting. He was letting her put the knife to his neck, to make her feel like she was the one in control.
That realization settled oddly in her chest.
He had never truly harmed her before. He had locked her away, kept her restrained, played mind games with her—but he had never actually hurt her. He even took care of her and looked out for her during the games and after. If he had wanted to hurt her, he would have done it long ago. Hell, he would have never let her go that night.
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
A slow, knowing smirk curved on In-ho's lips at her intense gaze. He closed the space, the knife slowly sinching his neck, a dribble of blood trickled down his neck. Rae-a barely had time to react before he was too close, his presence consuming. Her breath hitched, but she masked it with a sharp glare. Instinctively, she took a step back, her body betraying her frustration as heat bloomed in her cheeks.
He tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Nervous?"
"Shut up," she huffed, stepping back and spinning on her heel. She folded her arms and faced the door, ignoring the way her heart pounded against her ribs. She wasn't going to entertain whatever smug satisfaction he was getting from this. Whatever game he was playing, she refused to be a part of it.
They did not wait long until there was a knock at the door.
Her breath stilled.
The sound sent a cold ripple down her spine, a sharp contrast to the heat from before. Her muscles tensed, every nerve in her body going on high alert. Her gaze darted to the door, then back to In-ho, whose expression remained infuriatingly unreadable.
Paranoia crawled beneath her skin. It was too soon. Too sudden. Was this a setup? Another one of his mind games? Or—
In-ho stepped away, his presence withdrawing as he moved toward the hallway.
"I'll give you a moment," he murmured, disappearing into the other room. He did not need to be here for this. Yet.
Rae-a swallowed hard, pulse hammering in her throat. Whoever was behind that door... it was time to face them.
--//
The door groaned open, its hinges protesting the slow, deliberate movement that sent a jagged shiver down Rae-a's spine. The dim, stagnant air seemed to shift, thickening, curling around her like unseen fingers tightening their grip. Every fraction of an inch the door widened felt like an unspoken warning, a creeping prelude to something inevitable.
And then—they stepped inside.
Two figures, masked, draped in shadow, their dark-clad forms exuding an oppressive, quiet authority. Their movements were unhurried, deliberate, each heavy footfall against the wooden floor reverberating through the silence like the toll of a funeral bell. The air turned frigid, an unnatural chill seeping into Rae-a's bones, into the marrow of the moment. Nothing in this room would remain the same after this.
And between them—
Restrained.
Bound hands.
Slightly bowed heads.
Gi-hun. Myung-gi.
The world lurched, the edges of her vision narrowing as if reality itself had fractured.
Rae-a took a step back, her breath seizing in her throat, her pulse slamming against her ribs with violent force. The thundering in her ears drowned out everything else, warping the space around her into something unrecognizable, suffocating. The weight of the moment pressed in, stretching unbearably thin, each second dragging like an eternity, an excruciating limbo between denial and truth.
No.
No, it wasn't possible.
She had buried them in the recesses of her heart. She had accepted it.
She had mourned them in silence, carrying their ghosts with her, etching their names into the marrow of her grief. In the darkest corners of her heart, she had laid them to rest, alongside all the others she had lost, all the faces she would never see again.
And yet—
Here they stood.
Alive.
Breathing.
Two ghosts, torn from the grave, resurrected before her very eyes.
Gi-hun's eyes widened when he saw her, his disbelief mirroring her own. "Rae-a?"
Her name came out hoarse, uncertain, like he wasn't sure if he was speaking to a mirage.
Her knees almost gave out. Her mind spun, reeling, trying to process the impossible truth unfolding before her. She fought the overwhelming urge to reach out, to confirm that they were real, that this wasn't some cruel trick of the mind. Her fingers curled tighter around the handle of the knife instead, grounding herself against the flood of emotions crashing through her like a tidal wave.
Myung-gi inhaled sharply, blinking at her in astonishment. "You're alive." His voice cracked slightly, raw with emotion. "What happened to you? After the revolution—where did you go?"
The revolution. The moment everything had crumbled. The last time she had seen them—before she had turned and run, before she had gone after Young-il, before she had been dragged into a fate far worse than she had imagined.
Her throat closed up.
They were alive. They had been alive all this time.
And In-ho—
Her gaze snapped back to him.
He stood in the distance of another room, hidden from the others, composed, unreadable, watching her reaction with unwavering calm. Her hands clenched into fists. He had known. He had spared them. He had kept this from her.
Her breath came unevenly, her vision blurring at the edges as her mind raced.
What was he trying to prove?
How did this help with saving Hyun-ju and getting the photos back?
Did he do this for her?
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, heart hammering against her ribs as a new, more terrifying realization clawed its way into her consciousness. By bringing them here, he was burning a bridge that could never be rebuilt. He was rendering himself vulnerable. He was making himself identifiable to them, to her—to anyone who could expose him.
This was dangerous. This was reckless.
This was irreversible.
And he had done it anyway.
For a split second, she thought she saw something shift in his expression—something subtle, something only she would have noticed.
Regret. No—resolve.
He had made his choice.
And now, she had to decide what to do with it.