The funeral hall was wrapped in silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The heavy kind.
The kind that presses against your chest until breathing feels like effort.
White flowers filled the room, their soft fragrance blending with the faint scent of incense. At the center stood a large framed portrait — Ha-rin's mother, smiling gently as if frozen in a moment untouched by time.
Below the frame, incense sticks burned slowly.
Thin trails of smoke curled upward, dissolving into the still air.
Black and white drapes covered the walls, swallowing every trace of warmth.
Mourners came and went in quiet lines, bowing respectfully before the portrait. Soft whispers of condolences floated through the room, then faded into silence again.
And in the middle of it all—
Ha-rin sat without moving.
She wore a white blouse beneath a black overcoat. Her hair was neatly tied back, but nothing could hide the exhaustion etched into her face. Her eyes were swollen, raw from hours of crying.
Yet now, she didn't cry anymore.
She just sat there.
Empty.
Beside her, Soo-yun held her hand tightly, as if afraid Ha-rin might disappear if she let go. Her grip was warm, steady — the only thing grounding her in reality.
People approached one by one.
Bowed.
Left.
The motions repeated like a ritual Ha-rin could no longer feel.
Then three familiar figures entered the hall.
Baek Donghyun.
Seo-jin.
And Kang Min-rae.
They walked quietly, their footsteps respectful, restrained. Each of them bowed deeply before the portrait, their expressions solemn.
When they approached Ha-rin, none of them knew what to say.
Because what words could exist in a moment like this?
Seo-jin was the first to speak.
Softly. Carefully.
"Ha-rin… stay strong."
His voice almost broke at the end.
Ha-rin gave the smallest nod.
But no words came out.
Her throat felt locked, as if grief had wrapped its fingers around it.
Silence answered him.
And that silence hurt more than tears.
A few moments later, the doors opened again.
This time, the air shifted.
Seon-woo stepped inside, dressed in a black suit. Dae-jin followed just behind him, unusually quiet.
Seon-woo's expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes held something deeper.
Something heavy.
Something shaken.
He walked slowly toward the portrait.
And bowed.
Deeply.
Longer than the others.
As he straightened, his gaze lingered on the smiling face in the frame — a woman who had raised the girl he…
He clenched his jaw.
Then turned.
Ha-rin sat there like a shadow of herself.
So small.
So fragile.
So unlike the strong detective he knew.
Something twisted painfully inside his chest.
He walked toward her.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
When he finally stood in front of her, his voice came out softer than he expected.
"Ha-rin… I'm sorry."
The words were simple.
But they carried everything he couldn't say.
Ha-rin slowly looked up.
Her eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears.
For a brief second, their gazes met.
And in that moment—
Seon-woo saw it.
The crack.
The unbearable loneliness behind her silence.
Her lips trembled faintly.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Barely audible.
Then she looked away.
As if even meeting his eyes was too much.
Seon-woo's chest tightened.
He wanted to say more.
To tell her she wasn't alone.
To tell her she could lean on him.
To tell her he would carry her pain if he could.
But the words stayed trapped inside him.
Because grief demanded silence.
And today—
Was not a day for promises.
Only mourning.
So he stood there quietly.
Watching her suffer.
And for the first time in a long time—
Ryu Seon-woo felt completely helpless.
The incense continued to burn.
The flowers remained still.
Mourners kept bowing.
But in the middle of the hall, time felt frozen.
Because the strongest woman in the room…
Had just lost the only person who made her human.
And nothing in the world could bring her back.
Outside the funeral hall, the world felt strangely normal.
Cars passed.
Wind moved gently through the trees.
The sky was pale and quiet — as if nothing had happened.
But on the wooden bench near the entrance, someone's world had already ended.
Ha-rin sat there, motionless.
Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles pale. She stared at the ground, trying to hold herself together, trying to keep the tears from falling again.
She had cried enough today.
Too much.
And yet, the pain wouldn't stop.
It just sat there — heavy, unmoving, suffocating.
Behind her, the glass doors slid open.
Soft footsteps followed.
Slow.
Careful.
Seon-woo.
He saw her immediately.
Alone on the bench.
Small against the weight of the world.
He stopped walking.
For a moment, he didn't know what to do.
Approach her?
Or leave her alone?
He had faced boardrooms, enemies, betrayal — but this?
This helplessness was unfamiliar.
Still, he stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Until he stood a few feet away from her.
His voice came out hesitant.
"If you… need anyone," he said quietly, "I'm always here."
Ha-rin slowly lifted her head.
Her eyes met his.
And something inside them had changed.
The warmth he once knew was gone.
In its place —
Pain.
And something sharper.
Anger.
"Thank you," she said softly.
But her tone was cold.
Controlled.
"If I need anything… I have my friends. I'll ask them."
The words were polite.
But distant.
A wall.
Seon-woo's chest tightened.
"But you're alone right now," he said gently. "I'm worried about you."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Ha-rin's expression hardened.
"I'm not alone, Mr. Seon-woo."
The formality in her voice felt like a blade.
"And who are you," she continued, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay strong, "to worry about me?"
He froze.
Her words didn't stop.
"I am only your protection officer. Nothing more. Please don't misunderstand that."
Each sentence fell like a hammer.
Cracking something invisible between them.
"You don't need to do anything for me," she whispered. "Don't worry about me. Just… take care of yourself."
A pause.
Then, quieter—
"Please go. I want to be alone for a while."
Silence followed.
The wind moved faintly between them.
Seon-woo didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because something inside him had just shattered.
He had expected resistance.
Distance.
Even anger.
But not this.
Not the way she erased him so completely.
His jaw tightened.
Still, he nodded slowly.
A small, almost invisible gesture.
And stepped back.
Once.
Then again.
Until the distance between them returned.
He turned without another word.
And walked away.
But with every step—
His heart felt heavier.
A few minutes later.
Inside a quiet side room of the funeral hall.
The door closed softly.
And the moment it did—
Ha-rin broke.
Completely.
She stumbled forward and collapsed into Soo-yun's arms, clutching her tightly like someone drowning.
Her body shook violently as the sobs finally escaped.
Raw.
Uncontrolled.
"I thought…" she cried, her voice breaking apart, "I thought I was strong now…"
Her fingers clutched Soo-yun's clothes desperately.
"But I'm alone again…"
The words came out like shattered glass.
Soo-yun held her tighter, one hand gently stroking her hair.
"It's okay," she whispered softly. "Everything will be okay. I'm here. I'm with you."
Ha-rin cried harder.
As if the reassurance only reminded her of what she had lost.
"I lost her…" she sobbed. "I really lost her…"
Soo-yun's own eyes filled with tears, but she forced her voice to stay firm.
"You're not alone," she said, more strongly now. "You have me. You hear me? I'm not going anywhere."
She cupped the back of Ha-rin's head, holding her close.
"And you still have people who care about you. Seo-jin is there. We're all here."
Ha-rin didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because deep inside—
She knew something Soo-yun didn't.
This wasn't just grief.
This was the beginning of something darker.
Something colder.
Something that was slowly replacing the warmth inside her heart.
And as she cried into Soo-yun's shoulder—
A silent realization formed within her.
The girl who still believed in comfort…
Was fading away.
And in her place—
Someone else was beginning to rise.
Morning light slipped quietly through the curtains of Ha-rin's apartment, pale and gentle, as if afraid to disturb the silence inside.
Ha-rin stepped out of her room slowly, still wrapped in the heaviness of yesterday. Her hair was loosely tied, and dark circles rested beneath her eyes — silent proof of a sleepless night.
Soo-yun was already in the kitchen.
The soft clatter of dishes and the smell of warm toast filled the air, bringing a strange sense of normalcy.
"You're awake," Soo-yun said gently, placing a plate on the table. "Come. Eat something."
Ha-rin nodded and sat down without arguing. They ate quietly at first, the kind of silence only old friends could share without discomfort.
After a moment, Soo-yun looked at her carefully.
"How are you feeling now?"
Ha-rin paused, fingers tightening slightly around her cup.
"I'm okay," she said quietly. "Better than yesterday."
Soo-yun didn't look convinced.
"You shouldn't go to work today," she said firmly. "Take a day off. Rest."
Ha-rin shook her head immediately.
"No. I already missed too much. There's a lot to do… I don't have time to rest."
Soo-yun sighed softly, knowing that stubborn tone too well.
Then Ha-rin hesitated.
"…Did you talk to Seon-woo?"
Soo-yun blinked, surprised.
"No… why?" she asked carefully. "Was there something I should know?"
Ha-rin quickly looked away.
"No. Nothing. I was just asking."
The answer came too fast. Too light.
But Soo-yun didn't push.
Ha-rin stood up and grabbed her bag.
"I'll get ready," she said. "Let's leave together."
The police station buzzed with its usual morning chaos — ringing phones, hurried footsteps, and overlapping conversations.
Officers moved back and forth, buried in files and unfinished cases.
Then the glass doors opened.
Ha-rin walked in.
Seo-jin was the first to notice her.
His eyebrows shot up immediately.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, half shocked.
Baek Donghyun turned around just as quickly.
"You should be resting," he added, concern clear in his voice.
Ha-rin gave a small shrug, forcing a faint smile.
"I'm fine," she said casually. "I was getting bored at home anyway."
Seo-jin exchanged a look with Donghyun but didn't argue further.
"So, what are you working on?" Ha-rin asked, placing her bag down.
Donghyun leaned back against the desk.
"We're reviewing the Sun-jae case," he said, tapping a file. "Another victim just came up."
Ha-rin's expression sharpened instantly.
"Let me help," she said without hesitation.
Seo-jin studied her for a second… then picked up a file and handed it to her.
"Analyze this one."
Ha-rin took it without a word.
Donghyun tilted his head slightly.
"Didn't you have work at the company today?"
"I'll go later," she replied absentmindedly, already flipping through pages.
Then she glanced up at Seo-jin.
"When will you be free?"
He frowned slightly.
"Soon… why?"
Ha-rin closed the file slowly.
"There's something I need to discuss with you."
Her tone was calm.
But her eyes weren't.
Something had changed.
And Seo-jin noticed.
The café was quiet, wrapped in a warm afternoon glow.
Soft sunlight filtered through the glass windows, painting golden patterns across the wooden floor. The gentle hum of low conversations and the distant clinking of cups filled the air.
Ha-rin and Seo-jin sat in a quiet corner.
Two untouched coffee cups rested between them. A laptop and scattered files lay pushed aside, forgotten for the moment.
Ha-rin leaned forward slightly, her voice low but tense.
"We need to find a safe place for the memory chip," she said seriously. "I don't know anymore… who around us is an enemy and who is a friend."
Seo-jin watched her calmly, his expression steady.
"No one knows we even have proof," he said reassuringly.
Ha-rin let out a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing just a little.
"Yeah… that's why I can still breathe," she murmured. Then her gaze dropped to the table. "But for how long?"
Seo-jin didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached out and gently placed his hand over hers.
"Relax for now," he said softly. "Nothing will happen."
The warmth of his touch made her pause.
A small, fragile smile appeared on her lips. She lifted her cup and took a quiet sip.
"Yeah…" she whispered faintly. "Nothing will happen."
A brief silence settled between them.
Seo-jin watched her carefully, as if memorizing something he couldn't name.
Then he spoke again, his tone casual — but too careful.
"Did you fight with Seon-woo yesterday?"
Ha-rin froze.
Her eyes widened slightly before she quickly looked down. A flicker of guilt crossed her face.
"…Yeah," she admitted quietly. "I want to apologize… but I don't know how."
Seo-jin nodded slowly, though something in his eyes dimmed.
He hesitated for a second.
Then asked the question he shouldn't have.
"Do you like him?"
The words landed like a stone in still water.
Ha-rin stopped mid-sip.
She slowly placed the cup back on the table. For a brief moment, shock flashed in her eyes.
Then she forced herself to look composed.
"N-No," she said quickly, her voice betraying a nervous tremor. "Of course not. Why would you ask that?"
Seo-jin smiled.
But it wasn't real.
"I just thought… maybe you do," he said lightly, though his chest felt tight.
Ha-rin couldn't meet his eyes.
She began gathering her files in a hurry, movements slightly clumsy.
"I don't know anything about that," she said awkwardly. "Anyway… I should go."
Before he could reply, she stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
And then she left.
Just like that.
Seo-jin stayed where he was.
Watching her disappear through the café door.
The sunlight that once felt warm now felt distant.
He lowered his gaze, a quiet ache settling deep in his chest.
A faint, broken smile curved on his lips.
And under his breath, barely louder than a whisper, he said—
"Congratulations, Seo-jin…"
His voice cracked slightly.
"You lost."
The office was unusually quiet that afternoon.
Muted sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows, casting pale shadows across the polished floor. The faint ticking of the wall clock blended with the soft tapping of keys as Seon-woo worked behind his desk, focused on his laptop.
A gentle knock broke the silence.
"Come in," he said without looking up.
The door opened slowly.
Ha-rin stepped inside.
She held a file in her hands, but her grip was tight — almost protective. Her expression carried a nervous hesitation she couldn't hide.
Seon-woo looked up.
His eyes lingered on her for a second, surprised but calm.
"Detective Lee?" he said evenly. "You're here? Is there something you need?"
Ha-rin forced a small, awkward smile and placed the file on his desk. Her hands clasped together as if anchoring herself. She clearly wanted to say something, but the words refused to come.
Seon-woo noticed immediately.
His tone softened.
"Do you want to tell me something?"
She inhaled quickly.
"No… I mean—yes," she corrected herself in a rush. "It's just a report."
She nudged the file closer.
A quiet, awkward silence followed.
Seon-woo opened it casually, scanning the contents as if nothing unusual was happening.
"Hmm," he murmured. "Alright. I'll forward this to the legal team."
Ha-rin didn't move.
She was still standing there.
Seon-woo glanced up again, curiosity flickering across his face.
"Detective Lee… anything else?" he asked gently. "You look like you want to say something. I'm listening."
Her fingers tightened slightly.
She looked down.
"Well… I…" she began, then stopped. A pause hung between them before she finally whispered, "Actually… I came to say sorry. For yesterday."
Seon-woo blinked in surprise.
He closed the file slowly and leaned back, studying her expression. The stiffness in his posture melted just a little, though his composure remained intact.
"I understand," he said calmly. "But you don't need to explain."
Relief flickered across her face, but she shook her head faintly.
"Still… I needed to say it."
Their eyes met for a brief second.
Something unspoken passed between them.
He gave a small nod — an unspoken acceptance — then deliberately returned to a professional tone.
"Alright. I'll review the report. You should continue with your work."
Ha-rin looked at him for a moment, then lowered her gaze.
She took a deep breath.
"Yesterday… I was too harsh," she said softly, almost a whisper. "I shouldn't have been. I'm… sorry."
Seon-woo watched her carefully.
There was no pretense in her eyes — only quiet sincerity.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"That's it?" he said gently. "It took you this long to say that?"
Ha-rin let out a small, embarrassed laugh, her shoulders relaxing for the first time.
"I didn't know how to say it," she admitted softly.
Seon-woo's expression warmed.
"It was simple," he said, meeting her gaze. "And… I never held it against you."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The air between them softened, turning fragile and warm.
Then Seon-woo stood up casually and walked toward the window, hands sliding into his pockets. He looked outside, the city stretching endlessly below.
Without turning back, he spoke in a quiet voice.
"Next time… don't take so long to say sorry."
Ha-rin smiled faintly.
She gave a small bow before turning toward the door.
"Understood," she murmured.
The door closed softly behind her.
The office fell silent again.
Seon-woo returned to his desk, but he didn't open the file immediately.
Instead, a small, unguarded smile curved on his lips.
A rare one.
The kind that appeared only when no one was watching.
Because despite everything…
He was glad she came.
The hospital corridor smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee.
Fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead as Ha-rin walked toward Soo-yun's room, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. It had been a long day, but there was something lighter in her steps now — something steadier.
She knocked gently before entering.
Soo-yun looked up from her bed, a small smile spreading across her face.
"You look better than before," Soo-yun said, studying her closely.
Ha-rin returned the smile, softer but genuine.
"I feel better."
And for once, she wasn't lying.
Soo-yun swung her legs off the bed. "Good. Then let's go home."
"Home?" Ha-rin raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. My place. I'll drop you later," Soo-yun said firmly. "No arguments."
Ha-rin chuckled lightly. "Fine. That sounds good."
The apartment felt warm and familiar, filled with the comforting scent of freshly cooked food.
Ha-rin stood at the dining table, arranging dishes carefully. Steam rose from the bowls, fogging her vision for a second as she leaned closer.
Footsteps approached.
Soo-yun emerged from the bedroom, her hair slightly messy, exhaustion clear in her movements.
Ha-rin glanced up and smiled.
"Everything's ready. Come before it gets cold."
Soo-yun dropped into the chair with a dramatic sigh.
"I feel like I could collapse onto the sofa right now," she muttered. "Today was exhausting."
Ha-rin's playful expression faded into concern.
"That's exactly why I keep telling you not to overwork yourself," she said gently. "Your health matters too, Soo-yun."
Soo-yun let out a small laugh.
"Madam Detective," she teased, "your life is full of danger and stress, and you're giving me health advice?"
Ha-rin smirked faintly.
"Yes. Because you're my best friend. I'm allowed to worry about you."
They began serving food onto their plates.
For a moment, only the soft clinking of cutlery filled the room.
Then, casually — too casually — Soo-yun spoke.
"So… what's going on between you and Seon-woo these days?"
Ha-rin paused.
Just for a second.
Her hand stopped mid-air before she placed the spoon down calmly.
"It's work," she replied evenly. "He has security issues. I'm on duty. That's all."
Soo-yun leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes with playful suspicion.
"Duty, duty," she echoed. "But your eyes seem to glow whenever his name comes up."
Heat crept up Ha-rin's neck.
She quickly looked down at her plate, hiding a shy smile.
"Just eat your food," she muttered lightly. "You only live for gossip."
Soo-yun laughed.
And after a moment—
Ha-rin did too.
The tension dissolved into warmth, into familiarity, into the kind of comfort that made everything else feel distant.
For tonight, at least, there were no threats.
No memory chips.
No hidden enemies.
Just two best friends.
And a feeling that one of them was slowly, quietly falling in love—
Even if she refused to admit it.
The parking lot was nearly empty.
Dim yellow lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete ground. The night air was cool, carrying a faint scent of rain.
Ha-rin stood beside Soo-yun's car, offering a small wave as her best friend drove away.
"Text me when you get inside!" Soo-yun called from the window.
"I will," Ha-rin replied softly.
The car disappeared around the corner.
Silence settled.
Ha-rin adjusted her coat and began walking toward her apartment building.
That's when headlights swept across the parking area.
A sleek car rolled in unevenly.
The driver's door opened.
Oh Mi-rae stepped out.
She was unsteady.
Her heels clicked awkwardly against the ground as she tried to maintain balance. Even from a distance, Ha-rin could tell she had been drinking.
Mi-rae froze when she noticed her.
"Oh… Miss Ha-rin."
Ha-rin stopped politely. "Yes?"
Mi-rae walked closer, eyes glossy, voice trembling between anger and heartbreak.
"What do you have… that I don't?"
Ha-rin blinked, confused. "I'm sorry… what do you mean?"
Mi-rae laughed bitterly.
"That's what I'm asking. What do you have that I don't?" Her voice cracked. "Why can't Seon-woo see me?"
Tears began slipping down her cheeks.
Ha-rin's expression shifted from confusion to shock.
"You're not in the right state right now," she said gently. "You should go home."
"No," Mi-rae snapped weakly. "I need to talk to you."
She stepped closer.
"Tell me… how am I supposed to forget him?" Her voice broke completely now. "I've loved him since I was old enough to understand what love is. Since childhood."
Ha-rin's heart skipped.
"And he…" Mi-rae whispered painfully, "he can love you instead?"
The words hit harder than Ha-rin expected.
Love you.
The sentence echoed in her mind.
She didn't know how to respond.
"You're not well," Ha-rin repeated softly. "Let's talk another day."
Before Mi-rae could protest further, Ha-rin quickly took out her phone and called Dae-jin.
"She's not okay," Ha-rin said quietly. "Please come."
A few minutes later, Dae-jin arrived and gently helped Mi-rae into the car. Mi-rae didn't resist anymore. She only looked at Ha-rin once — a mixture of sadness and defeat in her eyes.
Then they drove away.
Ha-rin stood alone again.
But this time, her heart felt heavier.
Apartment Hallway — Night
The hallway lights were soft and muted.
Ha-rin unlocked her apartment door slowly, her thoughts still tangled in Mi-rae's words.
He can love you instead.
The sound of another door opening pulled her back to reality.
Seon-woo stepped out of his apartment.
He noticed her immediately.
A faint smile curved on his lips.
"Ha-rin… this late?"
She paused, still holding her door handle.
"Yes," she answered calmly. "Work finished late."
"You look tired," he said gently. "Like you didn't get a break all day."
She forced a small smile, though her eyes betrayed exhaustion.
"That's accurate."
A brief silence lingered.
She turned slightly, about to enter her apartment, when his voice stopped her again.
"Are you okay?"
His tone had changed — softer, serious.
"Lately… there's always something in your eyes. Not just tiredness."
Her fingers tightened around her keys.
"I'm fine," she replied quickly. "Just workload."
He stepped a little closer.
"It's easy to hide behind workload," he said quietly. "But I feel like you're hiding something else."
She looked away.
For a split second, Mi-rae's tearful face flashed in her mind.
I've loved him since childhood.
How can he love you?
Her expression went blank.
Seon-woo noticed immediately.
A faint hurt passed through his eyes.
"You don't want to talk to me?" he asked softly.
She looked up quickly, offering a nervous smile.
"That's not it. Sometimes… I just don't find the right words."
He let out a small chuckle.
"You're a detective," he teased lightly. "And you can't find words?"
She relaxed just a little.
The interrogation room and this hallway are very different places."
He nodded slowly.
"You're right. The office and home… feel like two separate worlds."
Another silence.
This one quieter.
Almost fragile.
She turned her key again.
"Tomorrow," he said suddenly, hesitation in his voice, "are you free? We could get coffee."
She looked at him.
There was sincerity there.
And something hopeful.
She allowed herself a small, shy smile.
"We'll see how tomorrow goes."
"Fair enough," he replied.
Then more softly—
"But promise me something. If you ever feel like talking… just knock on my door."
Their eyes held for a moment longer than necessary.
She nodded slowly.
"Okay. Good night, Seon-woo."
"Good night, Ha-rin."
She stepped inside.
The door closed gently.
Seon-woo stood there for several seconds, staring at the door as if it could answer the questions she refused to say aloud.
Then he exhaled quietly.
And walked back into his apartment.
Unaware—
That behind her closed door,
Ha-rin stood frozen,
Her back pressed against the wood,
Mi-rae's words still echoing in her chest.
And for the first time—
She wondered.
If loving him would only hurt everyone.
Ha-rin dropped onto the edge of her bed, exhaustion weighing down every part of her body.
The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
Her shoulders slumped forward as she rubbed her temples, trying to push away the lingering tension of the day. After a few seconds, she stood and walked into the bathroom.
The harsh white light flickered on.
Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror — pale, tired, eyes shadowed with sleepless nights and unspoken worries.
For a moment, she simply looked at herself.
When did I start looking like this?
She turned on the tap and splashed cold water across her face. The chill shocked her senses, forcing her to inhale sharply.
"Pull yourself together," she whispered to her reflection.
Drying her face, she stepped back into her room.
Her phone began to ring.
She glanced at the screen.
Seo-jin.
She answered, her voice tired but steady. "Hello, Seo-jin?"
"I'm sending you a file," he said from the other end. "Can you check it? There are some important details."
She exhaled softly. "Alright. Send it."
The call ended.
A notification appeared almost instantly: File received.
Ha-rin opened her laptop and began reviewing the documents. Her detective instincts sharpened despite her exhaustion. For the next fifteen minutes, she analyzed timestamps, cross-checked data, scanned statements.
Her eyes burned.
But she kept going.
Then—
Her phone buzzed again.
Without looking, she assumed it was Seo-jin.
But when she picked it up, her brows furrowed.
Unknown number.
A single message.
Come outside the building. There's something for you.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Then quickened.
"…Who could this be?" she whispered.
She stared at the screen for a long moment.
It could be a trap.
Or—
It could be a clue.
She began pacing slowly across the room, debating with herself.
Don't go.
What if it's important?
After a minute of hesitation, she grabbed her coat.
"I'll just check," she muttered under her breath. "It might be something useful."
Locking her door behind her, she headed downstairs.
Outside the Building — Night
The street was eerily quiet.
Dim streetlights glowed faintly, casting long, distorted shadows along the pavement. A cold breeze swept through the empty road, carrying the faint rustle of leaves.
Ha-rin pushed the building door open and stepped outside.
She looked left.
Then right.
"Hello?" she called out cautiously.
No response.
Only the wind.
A paper cup rolled slowly across the ground.
She frowned.
"Why did you message me? Who are you?" she called louder.
Still nothing.
She walked toward the corner of the building.
An empty bench sat beneath a flickering lamppost. The light buzzed weakly, threatening to go out at any second.
Her irritation began to rise.
"This must be some stupid prank," she muttered.
She turned around to head back inside.
Then—
Footsteps.
Faint.
Behind her.
She froze.
Slowly turning her head, she scanned the darkness.
"whos there?" she said cautiously.
Silence.
Her breathing grew heavier.
She started walking faster toward the entrance.
Just a few steps away—
A shadow detached itself from the darkness.
Suddenly—
A strong arm grabbed her from behind.
A cloth pressed tightly over her mouth.
Her eyes widened in shock.
"Mmm—!" she struggled, her voice muffled. "L leave —!"
Her keys slipped from her hand, clattering against the concrete.
She clawed at the attacker's arm, twisting her body, trying to break free. But the chemical scent invaded her lungs, dizzying and suffocating.
Her strength began fading.
Her vision blurred.
W...who…" she whispered weakly.
The world tilted sideways.
Darkness crept in from the edges of her sight.
Her body went limp.
The attacker caught her before she hit the ground and dragged her quickly toward the shadows.
Her phone lay abandoned near the entrance.
Her keys glinted under the streetlight.
Silent witnesses.
The van's back doors slid open.
The attacker shoved Ha-rin inside.
Two men were already waiting.
The door slammed shut.
The engine roared.
The van sped away into the night.
Ha-rin's head lolled weakly against the metal wall.
Her eyelids fluttered, barely open.
Voices echoed faintly around her.
"Message the boss," one man whispered. "The job's done."
A low chuckle followed.
"The detective is in our hands now."
She tried to move.
Tried to focus.
But her body wouldn't respond.
The streetlights outside blurred into streaks of yellow and white through the small rear window.
Then—
Everything went dark.
To Be Continued…