She grabs the sheet, pulls it over herself in a panic, but her hands tremble so badly the fabric slips, loosens, almost falls; she tries to cover her chest, her hips, while searching desperately for her clothes scattered like a battlefield around the bed.
Sion, meanwhile…
remains lying down.
Naked.
Relaxed.
Almost provocative.
The sheet falls lazily over his hips, his chest scratched by Nari, his neck marked by still-red bite marks.
The bedroom door bursts open.
He appears.
A man carved from stone.
Surgical anthracite suit.
Salt-and-pepper hair slicked back.
A steel gaze that cuts the air.
He sweeps them with a cold look.
A dry, disdainful smile settles on his lips without ever reaching his eyes.
— Well… I see how you're spending your time, my son.
(He snickers.)
How much do you pay that one?
Nari feels all the blood leave her face.
The sheet nearly slips from her fingers.
Her breath stops in her throat.
A violent, humiliating, ravaging vertigo hits her.
She stays frozen.
Arms locked.
Lips trembling.
Eyes filling before she can hold them back.
Sion snickers too—a rough, dark sound:
— Didn't know you had a double.
The father smiles wider.
A smile that cracks like a whip.
— Good thing I'm the one paying, or we'd never see any of your money.
(He looks at her like an insect.)
So… you spend ALL your time with this girl…
… ordinary?
Nari feels her heart tear open, slowly, deeply.
A sharp, visceral pain in her stomach.
Her hands trembling so hard she grips the sheet until her knuckles turn white.
She doesn't know if she wants to run…
… or crush his throat.
Sion clenches his jaw.
His muscles vibrate under his skin.
His black stare drifts slowly across his father's face—as if he were mentally redrawing it just to crush it later.
— Her name is Nari.
(He articulates each syllable, a knife after another.)
So… respect her.
The father rolls his eyes with slow, theatrical disdain, as if the mere existence of his son makes him nauseous.
— Oh, excuse me for my vulgarity.
(He turns to Nari, extends his hand like someone holds a bag of trash over a bin.)
Dear Nari.
A forced, hideous smile glued to his face like a carnival mask.
Nari remains still.
She doesn't even nod.
She looks at him the way one looks at a dead animal on the road.
— No need, she answers, her voice cold, sharp, controlled.
A voice that doesn't shake, even if her whole body screams.
The father sighs.
A long, disdainful, calculated sigh.
— Well.
(He snaps his fingers.)
Now that introductions are done…
And then, in front of her, in front of Sion, without a single hesitation:
— Get rid of her.
Nari feels her whole world crack at once.
She sees nothing.
Nothing.
Just red.
"
Get rid of her?
GET RID OF HER?
EXCUSE ME?
I'M GOING TO KILL HIM. I'M GOING TO KILL THIS DOG.
"
Her heart pounds against her ribcage.
Her hands tighten around the sheet.
She opens her mouth to explode but—
Sion has already moved.
He rises slowly.
Very slowly.
Like a beast unfolding itself.
Each muscle rolls under his skin.
Each breath vibrates in the air.
He takes one step toward his father.
Then another.
No useless gesture.
No word.
He stops inches from him.
So close you can almost feel the violence ready to erupt from his pores.
He inhales once—long, deep.
And says, with an almost supernatural coldness:
— You're the one who's going to get out, old man.
Silence falls.
A silence so brutal it crushes even Nari's breathing.
Two seconds.
No more.
Just two.
Then—
BOOM.
The impact is so violent Nari jolts as if someone fired a gun.
The room shakes.
The wall vibrates.
The slap comes so fast even the air doesn't have time to react.
SMACK.
A dry, violent sound, impossible to mistake—like a gunshot inside an apartment too small.
Sion's head snaps to the side.
His hair flies with the impact, a streak of red splattering his split lip.
His body stays upright for a second—just one—before swaying.
Nari screams.
— SION!!!
A ripped, primal, animal scream.
But the sound breaks in her throat, swallowed by the violence that follows.
The father doesn't even wait for Sion to breathe.
He grabbed him by the collar like a garbage bag, lifted him in one sharp motion — too practiced, too rehearsed — and threw him to the floor.
Sion hit the ground hard.
His head slammed against the parquet.
A dull, heavy sound.
Nari stepped forward — one step — then froze.
Her body refused.
Fear paralyzed everything.
The first blow landed.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Sharp blows.
Heavy blows.
Blows from a man used to hitting.
To correcting.
To educating through fists.
— What did I tell you, HUH?!! he roared, pounding his son's ribs.
THAT LOVE IS FOR THE WEAK!!
Every word was a blow.
Every syllable an impact.
Every sentence a new wound.
Sion did not scream.
Sion did not cry.
Sion took it.
As if he had spent his whole life taking it, silent, dignified, broken on the inside but composed on the outside.
The father kept going.
— You embarrass me!
(Upper cheek.)
A pathetic embarrassment!
(Right rib.)
You collapse over a girl?!
(Stomach.)
You're pitiful!
(Elbow, face, ribs.)
BOOM.
A kick exploded against his ribcage.
Nari felt her legs give out, but she stayed standing, a hand over her mouth, trembling, unable to move, unable to breathe.
Tears streamed down her face without her realizing it.
They fell silently.
As if her body were crying for her.
The father stepped back, caught his breath.
Then his gaze filled with a cold, analytical rage.
— That'll teach you to disobey me.
He straightened slowly, wiped his blood-stained hands on a white handkerchief.
Without even looking at his son on the floor, he adjusted his jacket.
— You go back to work tomorrow, he said flatly.
And you get rid of her.
Nari felt all the air leave her lungs.
Her heart dropped.
Split.
Exploded.
Then the man turned his head toward her.
The same glacial smile as earlier.
A smile that said: I always win.
— Goodbye, miss.
The door slammed.
A final blow.
A coffin nail.
Silence fell.
A silence so dense it felt like a weight on the chest, a silence where even the walls seemed to hold their breath, where even the snow outside slowed its fall so as not to disturb the ruins still breathing inside.
Nari moved first.
A sharp gesture.
Animal.
Desperate.
She threw herself toward Sion, almost slipping on the cold parquet, her knees hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Her hands were shaking — uncontrollable, hysterical tremors — as they searched his ruined face, his twisted body, his fragile breath.
— Sion! Sion, look at me!!
Her voice shattered like glass.
— Answer me… please… please…
Her fingers rushed over his skin in panic:
the blood still running from his split lip,
the swelling forming under his eye,
the temple pulsing wrong,
each breath making a rib tremble painfully.
Her tears fell onto him, mixing with the blood, drawing pale pink streaks across his injured skin.
Sion cracked one eye open.
Only one.
Glassy.
Distant.
The shadow of a man who can't stay inside his own body anymore.
He lifted a hand — slow, trembling, as if each centimeter tore a piece of life from him — and grabbed Nari by the neck.
It wasn't violent.
It wasn't firm.
It was… weak.
A fragile grip.
A plea.
A need.
— Would you… be willing… to die for me?
His voice was a broken breath, a fracture in the air, the whimper of a wounded child inside a man's body.
Nari choked on a cry.
She gasped, shaking with sobs, leaned over him, wrapped her arms around him as if she could fix him, her fingers gripping his skin, his hair, his chest — anything to keep him here.
— Yes… yes… Sion… yes…
She was crying so hard her voice was nothing but a wet sob.
But Sion, even shattered, even destroyed, even half-conscious… could still be Sion.
He grabbed her hair.
Not hard — he didn't have the strength — but enough to pull her head back, expose her throat, force her to plunge her eyes into his.
— Repeat it.
A whisper.
An order.
A necessity.
— Louder.
Nari felt her soul shake.
She inhaled.
And screamed.
A guttural scream.
Torn.
Crucifying.
A scream that wasn't a sentence anymore but an offering, a sacrifice, a suicidal confession of love.
— YES, SION! I WOULD BE WILLING TO DIE FOR YOU!!!
Silence returned like a blade.
Sion smiled.
A devastated smile.
A sick smile.
A victorious smile.
A smile of a man who knows he is loved so much that even death would be too gentle in comparison.
Blood on his teeth.
Blood at the corner of his lips.
A red smile.
And in one last surge, he grabbed her by the neck and kissed her.
A violent kiss, breathless, desperate.
A kiss that tasted like blood, fear, madness.
A kiss of farewell and possession in the same second.
Their breaths mixed.
Their despair merged.
Their love became an open wound.
Then.
His body relaxed in Nari's arms.
One second.
Two.
And he passed out.
Literally.
Like a light being blown out.
Like a rope snapping.
Sion collapsed completely against her — unconscious, heavy, vulnerable, destroyed.
Nari held him, screaming silently, her throat burning, her stomach twisting, her heart beating on the verge of bursting.
Outside, the snow kept falling.
Thick.
Slow.
Silent.
Like a shroud.
As if the world had died with them.