The golden halls of the department store had briefly turned into a stage for cruelty, yet now the dust of conflict began to settle. Kim Jong-ha lay sprawled unconscious on the polished floor, defeated by a single strike. His proud aura of a B+ rank hunter shattered like glass.
The two women who had fueled the torment, Park Hyun-joo and Kim A-ra, no longer carried arrogance in their eyes. The icy weight of Lee Seong-jun's presence had already stripped them of all defiance. Pale and trembling, they realized their schemes had cornered themselves. They had chosen this hidden place with no cameras, no witnesses—thinking it perfect for torment. But now, that very isolation left them powerless.
Coldly, Seong-jun demanded what they had never once offered: a true apology. His voice carried no rage, only the quiet certainty of judgment. The women's knees buckled. Fear drove them to crawl toward Seo-yoon, their voices desperate, pleading. They reached for the past, claiming old friendship, begging for forgiveness, but their words were hollow.
Seo-yoon lowered her head, trembling. For years she had endured their cruelty in silence. What had begun as a strained friendship in high school had curdled into torment. It was never about reason—it was about power. The whispers, the rumors, the stolen belongings, the laughter of bystanders. Teachers had looked away, punishments were empty, and cruelty only grew sharper.
Alone, she had carried the weight. Alone, she had stood on the edge of despair. At times, she had even wondered if life was worth clinging to. Yet she held on—thinking of her family, telling herself that once graduation came, the nightmare would end. She had survived three years of hell.
Now, standing before those same tormentors, she saw them clearly. Once, they had seemed terrifying. Now, they were nothing but trash—weak souls who masked their own fear by breaking others.
Seo-yoon's fists clenched, her teeth biting down on anger that threatened to spill over. She spoke firmly, her words cutting through the silence. She would not accept their apology. But she would forgive—not for their sake, but to free herself. She would never lower herself to their level. Her voice was steady as she gave her warning: they were never to cross her path again.
The women bowed again and again, their pride discarded, gratitude dripping from their lips though their eyes still shook with fear. To them, it was survival. To her, it was closure.
Seong-jun's gaze, however, remained cold. He reminded them in a voice heavy with finality: this was mercy, and it would not be given twice.
Leaving them behind, he stepped out to find his sister seated nearby. Tears streaked her face as she trembled quietly. For the brother who had always seen her bright, smiling, and resilient, the sight was like a blade to the chest.
He sat beside her in silence, listening. And slowly, Seo-yoon began to speak. She told him of the bullying, of the years of isolation, of the helplessness she had hidden even from her family. She revealed the cruel tricks that had left her ashamed, like the day her gym uniform and jacket were thrown away. On that day, her brother had scolded her harshly, never realizing the truth. Now, recalling it, guilt tightened his chest.
But when he tried to apologize, she stopped him. She told him she was grateful—that he had not only defended her today but also listened to her story without judgment. For her, that was enough.
Her smile, though faint and fragile, carried strength. She declared she was free of her grudge. The tormentors were only trash, not worth the chains of hatred. Forgiving them did not absolve them; it lifted her.
Seong-jun's heart swelled with pride. In the thousand continents of his past life, vengeance was the law. Forgiveness was rare, harder than battle, heavier than blood. Yet his younger sister had chosen it. She had grown—not into someone to be shielded, but into an adult standing firm on her own path.
His lips curved into a rare smile. He would not interfere further. Instead, he would become the pillar that supported her choice, the silent strength that ensured her path remained unshaken.
And in that moment, as Seo-yoon's bright eyes rose again, Seong-jun knew. His sister had surpassed fear, surpassed weakness. She had become someone far greater than those who had once tried to break her.