"Ah, fuck…" Rei exhaled, holding the paper inches from his face. Fresh out of the shower, he had practically thrown himself onto the bed, damp hair sticking to his forehead. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
He stared at the paper again. Blankly. For the hundredth time.
He'd been turning it over in his hands for what felt like forever, unable to decide.
The excitement he'd felt earlier had slowly curdled into doubt. Confidence had turned into a heavy, uneven heartbeat pounding against his ribs. With a frustrated groan, he spread himself across the bed, arms and legs stretched wide like a motionless snow angel as he stared up at the ceiling.
Maybe I should go…
He swallowed hard.
Maybe I'll finally know.
Rolling onto his stomach, he buried half his face into the mattress.
Or maybe I'll find out something I don't want to know.
He wasn't going to tell Minji about the paper. Not yet. He didn't want to worry her over something he barely understood himself.
Rei grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved his face into it.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…" he groaned into the fabric, voice muffled. "Fuckkkkk…"
Rei stayed like that for a while, face buried into the pillow, fingers curled tightly into the bedsheets beneath him.
The paper crinkled softly beside his arm.
His eyes drifted toward it again.
That stupid fucking paper.
His stomach twisted.
Do I even want to know the truth?
The thought hit him harder this time.
Because what if the truth was bad?
What if everything he'd managed to build for himself these past few years shattered the second he found out? What if digging into the past only made things worse? He already felt unstable enough as it was. Like one wrong push would send everything crashing down again.
But then—
What if I'm already living a lie?
Rei shut his eyes tightly.
He hated this.
Hated not knowing. Hated wanting to know. Hated that both choices scared him equally.
With a frustrated sigh, he rolled onto his back again and rubbed both hands over his face.
Maybe I should tell Minji.
The thought came quieter this time. More hesitant.
She'd probably help him think straight. Or at least stop him from spiralling alone in his own head.
But another thought immediately followed.
And what am I even supposed to say?
"Hey, Minji, I found something that might completely change everything I know about myself?"
He let out a humourless laugh under his breath.
No. No fucking way.
Rei turned his head toward the clock on the bedside table—
—and paused.
His brows furrowed.
The apartment was still quiet.
Too quiet.
He pushed himself up slightly, staring toward the bedroom door.
"…Wait."
Minji still wasn't home.
A small knot formed in his stomach.
She should've been back by now.
Rei frowned, reaching blindly for his phone on the bedside table.
The screen lit up against the dim room as he tapped Minji's contact without hesitation, bringing the phone to his ear while swinging his legs off the bed.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
His knee bounced anxiously.
Four.
Then voicemail.
Rei pulled the phone away, staring at the screen for a second before immediately calling again.
This time, he stood up.
The quiet apartment suddenly felt too big. Too empty.
He ran a hand through his still-damp hair as the ringing echoed through the speaker.
Pick up.
Five rings.
Nothing.
His chest tightened slightly.
Not panic. Not yet.
Just… unease.
A small, creeping kind of worry that slowly slid beneath his skin the longer she didn't answer.
The call ended again.
"…Fuck," he muttered under his breath.
Rei lowered the phone and stared at it for a moment, thumb hovering over her contact.
Calm down.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think rationally.
Minji worked long hours all the time. The salon could get insanely busy, especially late evenings. Sometimes she got too focused and ignored her phone for hours without even realizing it.
Yeah. That had to be it.
She was probably overworking herself again.
Probably dealing with some nightmare customer while her phone sat forgotten somewhere in the back room.
Rei let out another breath, trying to settle the restless feeling crawling through his chest.
See? It's fine.
But she never had many customers to the point she had to ignore calls. She'd never ignore calls. Would she?
The thought settled heavily in his chest.
Rei stared at his phone again, thumb hovering over her contact.
Am I overthinking this?
Maybe.
God, he hoped so.
He pressed call again anyway.
The ringtone filled the apartment, sharp against the silence.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
His jaw tightened unconsciously.
Four.
Five.
Voicemail.
This time, the unease sank deeper.
Not all at once—slowly. Quietly. Like cold water creeping into cracks he hadn't noticed before.
Rei lowered the phone from his ear, staring blankly ahead.
No, no. Calm down.
Maybe she stepped out for supplies. Maybe her phone was dead. Maybe she'd left it charging somewhere and forgot about it completely.
There were normal explanations.
There had to be.
There should be.
________________________________________________________
Drip.
…Drip.
…Drip.
The sound echoed through the garage in slow, hollow intervals.
Water leaked from somewhere overhead, falling from a rusted pipe onto the stained concrete below. The air smelled damp—thick with dust, oil, and something metallic that lingered unpleasantly in the back of the throat.
The garage was dark.
Not completely pitch black, but dim enough that shadows swallowed most of the room whole. A single weak bulb flickered somewhere above, buzzing faintly every few seconds as if it were struggling to stay alive.
Old shelves lined the walls, cluttered with scattered tools, broken containers, and boxes layered in years of grime. A torn tarp hung in one corner beside stacks of tires, while rust crept along the metal shutters near the entrance.
Drip.
…Drip.
Minji's head throbbed.
A quiet groan pushed past her nose as consciousness slowly crawled back into her body. Everything felt heavy. Her limbs. Her eyelids. Even breathing felt difficult.
She tried moving instinctively—
—and froze.
Her wrists burned.
Something rough dug tightly into her skin.
Her eyes fluttered open properly this time, panic slowly creeping in as she realized her hands were tied behind the chair.
Tape covered her mouth.
Her breathing immediately quickened.
"Mmph—!"
The sound came out muffled and weak.
Her pulse slammed harder against her ribs as she jerked slightly against the restraints, the chair scraping faintly across concrete.
That was when she noticed the figure.
Someone stood across the garage.
Blurry.
Still.
Watching her.
Minji's vision swam for a second before slowly beginning to focus. The weak flickering light caught strands of dark hair. The outline of a woman leaning casually against a worktable.
The figure stepped forward.
Slowly.
Heels clicked softly against the concrete floor.
Something about the figure felt wrong.
Too calm.
Too still.
As Minji's vision slowly cleared, the outline of the woman sharpened bit by bit beneath the flickering light. Dark hair. Sharp posture. Expensive heels against filthy concrete.
The woman stepped closer.
Unhurried.
Like she wasn't worried in the slightest.
Minji's pulse spiked.
"…Mmph—!"
Her body jerked instinctively against the chair, panic beginning to rise properly now. The ropes around her wrists bit painfully into her skin as her breathing turned uneven.
Who the hell was that?
And what did she have with Minji?
To Be Continued... ...