The warmth and solidity of Seo-jun's parents in the apartment was a tangible force, a bulwark against the chaos outside. After the storm of confessions and tears, a practical calm had settled. Joon-ho had immediately taken charge of the kitchen, declaring that no crisis could be properly faced on an empty stomach, and the comforting sizzle of garlic and ginger in a hot wok now filled the space. Soo-yeon sat on the floor with Ha-ru, patiently building a block tower and watching it tumble with him, his quiet presence a steadying anchor.
Min Jae watched them from the sofa, Seo-jun a solid line of warmth beside him. The raw terror of Ha-ru's disappearance had receded, but it had left behind a cold, hard certainty. The game was escalating. They had moved from psychological manipulation to a direct, physical threat. The message was clear: We are always watching. We can touch what is yours.
