The soft hum of computers filled the police office as Ha-rin sat quietly at her desk, flipping through case files. The morning felt ordinary—too ordinary. The kind of calm that always came before something went wrong.
Then a sharp notification sound broke the silence.
Her laptop screen lit up.
New Email.
Subject: We are watching you.
Ha-rin's brows furrowed. Slowly, she clicked it open.
Only one line appeared.
"Start looking around you."
A chill ran down her spine.
"What…" she whispered, barely audible. "What is this? And who would send this?"
Before she could think further, a voice echoed across the office.
"The Chief wants to see you."
Ha-rin closed her laptop and stood up, her expression already returning to its usual calm mask. But inside, something had shifted.
The Chief's office felt heavier than usual.
He was standing behind his desk when she entered, files spread in front of him. The moment he saw her face, his expression tightened.
"Are you alright, Ha-rin?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
"I'm fine, sir," she replied in a controlled tone. "But I found something unusual."
"What is it?"
She hesitated briefly before answering. "An anonymous email. The subject was 'Now it's your turn.' But it was empty. Completely blank."
The Chief's eyes darkened. "Do you know what that could mean?"
Ha-rin looked down for a moment, thinking carefully.
"Either someone is directly threatening me," she said slowly, "or someone is trying to warn me."
The room fell into silence.
The Chief stared at her, as if trying to read the thoughts she refused to speak aloud. But Ha-rin had already made up her mind. She gave a small nod and quietly left the office, avoiding his gaze.
Meanwhile, inside Seon-woo's office, the atmosphere was calm.
He sat behind his desk, focused on his laptop, unaware of the storm approaching. A soft knock broke his concentration.
He looked up, a gentle smile forming.
"You're here," he said softly. "I wanted to talk to you."
Ha-rin walked in, her expression serious. She sat across from him slowly.
"I wanted to talk too," she replied.
Silence settled between them, filled only by the faint hum of electronics. They looked at each other, both unsure where to begin.
"You go first," Seon-woo said gently.
Ha-rin lowered her gaze. "Things aren't okay," she said quietly. "I received a threat."
His smile vanished instantly.
"What?" he said sharply. "Who sent it? Are you okay?"
"I don't know," she replied steadily. "It was anonymous."
A mix of anger and worry flashed across his face.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked, his voice firm, almost hurt.
She paused, then spoke softly, vulnerability slipping through her composure.
"I'm used to handling things alone," she admitted. "And… I might be busy for a few days. I may not be around you much. So… take care of yourself."
Seon-woo leaned forward, determination rising in his eyes.
"You need protection more than I do right now," he said firmly. "So… let me be your bodyguard."
Ha-rin blinked, surprised. A faint laugh escaped her despite herself.
"And why would you do that?" she asked lightly.
He fell silent for a moment.
Then, almost like a confession, he whispered, "I don't know."
Something in his voice made her pause.
For a second, the distance between them disappeared.
"Thank you," she said gently. "But I'm here for your safety, not the other way around. I know how to do my job."
He watched her quietly, a half-smile forming—one filled with admiration.
"That much is obvious," he murmured.
Their eyes met.
A long, quiet moment passed between them, heavy with emotions neither of them dared to name.
Ha-rin was the first to look away.
She stood up and walked toward the door. Seon-woo's gaze followed her until she disappeared outside.
The silence she left behind felt deafening.
And then—his expression changed.
Concern hardened into determination.
He pressed the intercom button.
"Dae-jin. Come in."
Moments later, the door opened and Dae-jin stepped inside respectfully.
"I need someone," Seon-woo said without hesitation. "Assign a man to watch Miss Ha-rin 24 hours a day. I want constant reports."
Dae-jin looked surprised. "But… why, sir?"
Seon-woo stood up and walked toward the window, staring at the city below. His voice was quiet, but unshakably firm.
"I need her to stay safe," he said. "Because she won't protect herself."
Dae-jin studied him for a moment, understanding dawning in his eyes.
Then he bowed his head slightly.
"Understood."
Outside, the city continued its rhythm, unaware that invisible eyes had already begun watching.
And somewhere in the shadows—
Someone was smiling.
The room smelled of dust and decay.
Ha-rin walked cautiously through the abandoned space, her footsteps echoing against cracked concrete walls. The air felt heavy, suffocating. Somewhere nearby, an old window creaked as the wind pushed against it again and again.
A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly.
It flickered weakly.
Light.
Darkness.
Light.
Darkness.
Her senses sharpened instantly.
Every sound felt louder. Every shadow felt alive.
Something wasn't right.
Then—
A violent shove from behind.
Ha-rin stumbled forward, nearly falling, but caught herself just in time. She spun around instantly, eyes blazing.
"Who are you?!" she shouted sharply. "Show yourself!"
Before the echo of her voice could fade—
SLAM.
The door behind her shut violently.
A metallic click followed.
Locked.
Ha-rin rushed toward it, grabbing the handle and twisting it hard.
It wouldn't move.
"What is this?!" she yelled, panic creeping into her voice. "Who are you?!"
A low, slow laugh echoed through the darkness.
Her body stiffened.
Her breathing quickened.
She stepped back slowly, scanning the room. In the far corner sat an old wooden chair, its paint peeling, its shadow stretching unnaturally across the floor.
Then—
A shadow slipped past it.
Laughing.
Like someone was playing with her.
Her jaw tightened.
"What do you gain from hiding?" she snapped through clenched teeth. "Come out… or—"
The light bulb burst.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Total. Pitch. Black.
Only her heartbeat remained.
Loud.
Relentless.
Terrifying.
Ha-rin fumbled for her phone and switched on the flashlight.
The narrow beam cut through the darkness, revealing empty walls… broken furniture… dust floating in the air.
Silence pressed in from every direction.
Then the light landed on the wall.
And she froze.
Written in something dark red—
Like blood—
"NOW YOU…"
Her body went cold.
Her face drained of color. Her eyes widened in horror.
"Wh… what was that…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her heartbeat roared in her ears—
And suddenly—
Her eyes snapped open.
Ha-rin jolted upright in her bed, gasping for air.
Sweat clung to her skin. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to breathe. The darkness of her room felt too real, too close.
"A dream…" she whispered shakily.
She reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and drank quickly, her hands still trembling. Then she covered her face with both palms, trying to calm the storm inside her.
But the fear lingered.
Like a warning.
Miles away, in another dark room—
Seon-woo slept.
At first, peacefully.
Then his expression began to tighten.
His breathing grew uneven. His body twitched slightly, like he was trying to escape something invisible.
Flashes exploded through his mind.
Ha-rin trapped in darkness.
A locked room.
The words on the wall.
Her scream echoing endlessly.
Then—
Darkness.
Seon-woo shot upright.
A sharp gasp tore from his throat as he sat straight on the bed, chest heaving. Sweat covered his forehead and neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.
His eyes looked lost. Blank.
Like he had been somewhere far away.
He dragged a trembling hand across his face, pushing messy hair back.
"What… was that?" he muttered hoarsely. "Was it… just a dream?"
His heart pounded violently.
He grabbed the glass of water beside him, but his hand shook as he took a sip. Cold sweat clung to his skin.
Then suddenly—
Her face flashed in his mind.
Ha-rin.
Terrified. Screaming. Trapped.
His breath hitched.
Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and dialed her number.
The ringtone filled the silent room.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
"Ha-rin…" he whispered desperately. "Please… pick up."
No answer.
The screen glowed in the darkness.
Calling… No response.
His chest tightened.
A strange, suffocating dread crawled up his spine.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it.
Seon-woo didn't wait another second.
He threw off the blanket, grabbed his jacket, shoved his feet into his shoes, and rushed out of the house.
The night outside was cold and silent.
But inside his chest—
A storm had already begun.
And somewhere in the darkness…
The nightmare was no longer just a dream.
The doorbell wouldn't stop ringing.
It cut through the silence of the night like a blade, sharp and restless, dragging Ha-rin out of a half-formed dream. She frowned, blinking at the dim glow of the clock on her bedside table. 2:17 AM.
Who could it be at this hour?
The bell rang again. And again.
A strange unease crawled under her skin.
Still wrapped in sleep, she slipped out of bed and walked toward the door, her steps slow, hesitant. The apartment felt colder than usual, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
She opened the door.
And froze.
Seon-woo stood there.
His hair was messy, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and there was a thin layer of sweat on his skin like he had been running. But it wasn't just that.
It was his eyes.
Wide. Shaken. Almost terrified.
Before she could say a word, before she could even process why he was there—
He pulled her into a hug.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't careful.
It was desperate.
Ha-rin stiffened instantly, her body going rigid in his arms. The warmth of him hit her all at once — real, overwhelming, unexpected. Her hands hovered in the air, unsure where to go, unsure what this moment meant.
"Seon-woo…?" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "What are you doing here…? What happened?"
His arms tightened around her for a second, like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, uneven.
"I thought…" he swallowed hard, his breath still unsteady. "I thought something happened to you. I had to see you."
Something in his tone made her chest tighten.
Slowly, carefully, Ha-rin placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back just enough to look at his face. He didn't resist. He let her create that small distance — but his eyes never left hers.
There was something raw in them. Something unspoken.
She stepped aside quietly.
"Come in."
He walked inside like someone walking through a dream, his movements heavy, distracted. She guided him toward the table, then turned toward the kitchen without another word.
The sound of running water filled the silence.
Her hands trembled slightly as she poured a glass, though she didn't know why. A strange thought kept echoing in her mind.
That nightmare.
The one that had jolted her awake minutes before the doorbell rang.
The same suffocating fear.
The same shadow she couldn't remember clearly.
Why did it feel like—
She stopped herself and walked back.
Seon-woo was sitting at the table, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled together. He looked like a man trying to hold himself together with sheer will.
She handed him the glass.
"Drink."
He took it, gripping it tighter than necessary, and brought it to his lips. Even as he drank, his gaze flickered back to her — searching, confirming, memorizing.
Like he needed proof she was real.
"I'm fine," she said softly, sitting across from him. "You probably just had a bad dream."
But even as she said it, doubt crept into her voice.
Because she had one too.
And for a brief, chilling moment, she wondered—
What if it wasn't just a coincidence?
Seon-woo didn't answer immediately. He kept staring at her, like there was something trapped behind his lips, something heavy and dangerous that refused to come out.
Then, suddenly—
"Can we go for a walk?"
She blinked. "What?"
His voice was quieter now, but firmer.
"Let's go outside."
"At this hour?" she asked, confusion lacing her words.
The city was asleep. The night too deep. The silence too strange.
But he didn't look away.
Instead, he held her gaze, steady and intense, like he was asking for something more than just a walk.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Let's go."
For a moment, she hesitated.
Something about this felt wrong.
Unsettling.
Like stepping into a story she couldn't control.
But something else pulled at her too.
The fear in his eyes.
The way his hands still trembled.
The unspoken connection lingering in the air between them.
So she stood.
No more questions.
No more excuses.
Just a quiet surrender to the moment.
They walked toward the door together, the silence between them heavier than any words. When the door closed behind them, the apartment felt emptier than before — like it had witnessed something it wasn't meant to.
Outside, the night waited.
Cold. Still. Watching.
And neither of them knew…
That this walk would change everything.
The night felt different outside.
Cooler. Quieter. Softer.
The city that usually buzzed with noise now lay still, wrapped in a calm that only existed after midnight. Streetlights stretched along the empty road, spilling warm gold onto the pavement, turning the world into something that felt almost unreal.
Ha-rin walked beside Seon-woo, her hands wrapped around a half-melted ice cream cone. She hadn't even realized when he bought it for her. One minute they were walking in silence, the next he had pressed it into her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Now they walked slowly, side by side, the tension from earlier fading into something lighter. Something quieter.
Not comfort exactly.
But close.
Neither of them spoke much. They didn't need to. The silence between them wasn't heavy anymore — it was soft, almost fragile, like if either of them said the wrong thing, it might shatter.
Their footsteps echoed faintly against the empty street as they turned toward the apartment building.
And then—
Seon-woo stopped.
Ha-rin blinked, taken off guard, nearly taking another step before realizing he wasn't beside her anymore. She turned toward him, confusion flickering across her face.
"Why did you—"
Her words died in her throat.
Because he was crouching.
Right in front of her.
Before she could react, before she could even understand what he was doing, he leaned down and reached for her shoe.
Her breath caught.
Her mind went completely blank.
He was tying her laces.
The world seemed to freeze.
The streetlights, the quiet road, the distant hum of the sleeping city — everything blurred into the background as her heartbeat roared in her ears.
Her fingers tightened instinctively around the ice cream cone.
"W-What are you doing…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with disbelief.
Seon-woo didn't look up.
He was focused, calm, like this was the simplest thing in the world.
Hold on," he said casually. "Almost done."
His fingers moved quickly, carefully looping the lace into a neat knot. The small, ordinary gesture felt unbearably intimate — more intimate than any words, any confession, any touch she had imagined.
When he finally stood up, he brushed his hands together lightly, completely unfazed.
"There," he said simply.
Like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn't just turned her entire world upside down.
Ha-rin stood there, frozen, heat rushing to her face. She could feel it — the warmth climbing up her cheeks, the sudden tightness in her chest, the way her thoughts refused to line up properly.
She couldn't even look at him properly.
"You… you shouldn't have done that," she said quickly, her words tumbling over each other, laced with embarrassment.
Her voice didn't sound like her own.
Too soft. Too shaken.
Seon-woo smiled.
It wasn't teasing.
It wasn't smug.
Just small. Quiet. Real.
And then, without warning—
He reached for her hand.
His fingers closed gently around hers.
The moment their skin touched, Ha-rin's breath hitched. A spark ran through her like electricity, sudden and overwhelming. Her eyes widened instantly, shock flashing across her face.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't explain.
He just held her hand — naturally, firmly, like it belonged there.
Like it had always belonged there.
Her heart began to race, loud and uncontrollable, each beat echoing in her ears. Confusion tangled with something warmer, something more dangerous, something she didn't want to name.
She stared at their joined hands, unable to look away.
This isn't happening.
This can't be happening.
But it was.
Seon-woo turned and started walking again, gently pulling her along with him, not even glancing back to see if she would resist.
And she didn't.
Her feet moved automatically, following his pace, but her mind stayed behind — stuck in that single moment.
Her hand in his.
She looked down again, her fingers curled slightly in his grasp, like they were still trying to understand what they were touching.
Then she looked up at him.
At the calm line of his shoulders.
At the quiet certainty in his steps.
And something inside her shifted.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to be dangerous.
She looked back at their hands once more, her heart trembling with a feeling she couldn't explain.
A question forming silently in her chest.
What… just happened?
And why did it feel like there was no turning back now?
The office cafeteria was unusually calm for that hour of the night.
The overhead lights cast a pale glow over metal tables and half-empty coffee cups. Files were spread across one corner table, a laptop screen illuminating faces caught between fatigue and focus.
Baek Dong-hyun leaned back in his chair, stirring his coffee lazily. Across from him, Seo-jin was scrolling through case notes, while Kang Min-rae scanned a document with narrowed eyes.
The door opened.
All three of them looked up at once.
Ha-rin stepped inside.
She looked composed — almost too composed — but there was a faint shadow beneath her eyes, a quiet exhaustion she hadn't been able to hide.
Seo-jin's eyebrows lifted immediately, a small smile forming.
"Weren't you off today?" he asked lightly. "What are you doing here?"
Ha-rin adjusted the strap of her bag and forced a casual tone.
"I was bored at home," she replied. "Couldn't sit still."
Min-rae didn't smile.
He studied her face carefully, taking a slow sip of coffee before speaking.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" His gaze sharpened. "What happened to your eyes?"
Ha-rin's fingers tightened slightly around the strap.
"N-No. I just… slept late."
Dong-hyun smirked, leaning forward with interest.
"Slept late?" he teased. "Doing what exactly?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
For a split second, her mind betrayed her.
A door opening at 2 a.m.
Seon-woo's desperate embrace.
The warmth of his hand in hers under the streetlights.
Her face warmed instantly.
She looked away.
"Just… work," she muttered with a quick, artificial smile. "Nothing special."
The three men exchanged looks — unconvinced, but unwilling to push further.
Ha-rin reached for a coffee cup, pretending everything was normal.
That was when her phone vibrated.
The screen lit up.
Hospital.
Her expression changed immediately.
The softness disappeared.
"What—" Seo-jin started, but she had already answered.
"Yes," she said into the phone, her tone sharp and alert. "I'll be there right away."
She ended the call and stood.
"I have to go," she said quickly. "See you."
Before anyone could ask another question, she was already walking out.
The cafeteria felt emptier the moment she left.
Concern lingered in the air long after the door shut behind her.
The parking basement was darker than usual.
Fluorescent lights flickered weakly overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the concrete floor. The echo of footsteps carried through the hollow space as Seon-woo and Dae-jin descended from the office above.
The atmosphere felt heavy.
As they reached the car, Seon-woo's phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Bodyguard.
He answered immediately.
"What is it?" His voice was sharp, alert. "Is Ha-rin okay?"
"Yes, sir," came the reply. "She's fine. She just arrived at a hospital to meet someone."
His jaw tightened.
"To meet someone? Who?"
"I'm not sure, sir. I can't enter the room."
A brief silence followed.
Seon-woo inhaled slowly, straightening his collar as if physically adjusting his emotions into place.
"Keep watching," he ordered calmly. "If anything feels unusual, call me immediately."
He ended the call.
Dae-jin, who had been leaning against a pillar lighting a cigarette, watched him closely.
"This isn't right," Dae-jin said, smoke curling into the cold air. "Keeping someone under surveillance like that. She's a police officer. She has her own space."
Seon-woo looked at him.
His expression softened, but the weight in his eyes remained.
"I'm not doing this for myself," he replied quietly. "I'm doing it for her."
There was no defensiveness in his tone.
Only fear.
"I don't want even the smallest harm to reach her because of me."
Dae-jin studied him carefully.
There it was again — that guilt.
That invisible burden Seon-woo carried alone.
"And what about you?" Dae-jin asked with faint sarcasm. "What about your life?"
Seon-woo looked away, exhaustion settling into his features.
"I'll be fine," he said quietly. "I can protect myself."
A pause.
Then, softer—
"I'm used to being alone."
The words echoed faintly in the empty basement.
Dae-jin didn't respond.
He simply watched him, as if wanting to argue — but knowing it wouldn't change anything.
Seon-woo opened the car door.
The engine roared to life, headlights cutting through the dimness. Shadows scattered as the car rolled forward, disappearing up the ramp into the night.
Behind them, the basement returned to silence.
But somewhere across the city—
In a hospital room—
Another piece of the truth was waiting to surface.
The hospital room was wrapped in a quiet, fragile stillness.
Soft yellow light glowed from the lamp near the bed, barely strong enough to push back the shadows gathering in the corners. The faint, rhythmic beeping of an ECG machine filled the silence, steady but delicate — a reminder of how thin the line between strength and weakness truly was.
Ha-rin sat on a chair beside the bed, holding a small paper cup in one hand and a strip of medicine in the other.
On the bed, her mother looked smaller than she remembered.
Weaker.
But she was still smiling.
That gentle smile that had always made everything feel safe.
Ha-rin held out the medicine.
"You shouldn't do this," she murmured softly, a faint complaint in her voice. "If you don't take your medicine… how will you get better?"
Her mother swallowed the pills slowly, then leaned back against the pillow.
"I'm fine now," she said gently.
But there was something beneath her words.
A quiet ache.
"I don't want to stay here anymore," she continued, her voice softer. "And you… you hardly come to see me."
The words weren't sharp.
But they still hurt.
Ha-rin lowered her gaze immediately.
Guilt spread through her chest like a slow burn.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I've been busy… that's why I couldn't come."
Busy chasing ghosts.
Busy fighting shadows no one else could see.
Her mother reached out and gently squeezed her hand.
"I know you're busy," she said kindly. "But even five minutes… you could come sometimes. My heart feels heavy here."
Moisture gathered in Ha-rin's eyes.
She forced a smile anyway.
"I will," she said softly. "I'll come every day now."
A promise she wasn't sure she could keep.
"Just a few more days," she added quickly, trying to sound hopeful. "Then I'll take you home with me."
She stood up, grabbing her bag before her emotions could betray her.
"I should go," she said. "It's getting late. And please… don't forget your medicine."
Her mother nodded gently and pulled her into a hug.
Warm.
Familiar.
Painfully comforting.
"I will," she whispered. "You take care of yourself too."
Ha-rin's arms tightened around her instinctively.
For a moment, she let herself be a daughter again.
Not a detective.
Not a protector.
Not someone constantly standing on the edge of danger.
Just a daughter.
She pulled away slowly, offering a small smile.
"You too," she whispered.
For a second, she stood there, memorizing her mother's face — as if afraid she might forget it.
Then she turned and walked toward the door.
She didn't look back again.
The corridor outside was colder.
Brighter.
Lonelier.
The white lights stretched endlessly above her, casting sharp reflections across polished floors. Nurses moved in the distance, their footsteps echoing faintly, but around her, everything felt strangely hollow.
She walked slowly, her bag hanging loosely from her shoulder.
Her expression had changed.
The softness was gone.
In its place was something heavier.
Exhaustion.
Fear.
And something else she couldn't name.
Her mother's words echoed in her mind.
You hardly come to see me.
Guilt tightened around her ribs.
But another thought followed immediately—
A dark room.
A flickering bulb.
Red words on the wall.
Now you…
Her fingers curled unconsciously.
Why did it feel like time was running out?
She stopped walking for a moment.
Something was wrong.
Not just with the case.
Not just with the threats.
With everything.
And the worst part—
She didn't know why.
Taking a slow breath, Ha-rin stepped forward again, disappearing deeper into the silent corridor.
Unaware that somewhere outside the hospital—
Someone was already watching.
Morning light filtered weakly through the blinds, slicing the room into strips of gold and shadow.
The office felt colder than usual.
Not because of the weather.
Because of the man sitting inside.
Ryu Tae-jin leaned back in his leather chair, fingers loosely steepled, eyes fixed on the large monitor in front of him.
On the screen, CCTV footage played in grainy loops.
A man stood across the street from an apartment building — pretending to scroll through his phone, pretending to be ordinary.
But nothing about him was ordinary.
Tae-jin smiled.
Slow.
Satisfied.
The door creaked open behind him.
Ji-hoon stepped in quietly, posture straight, voice formal.
"Sir… our man is keeping an eye on the detective."
Tae-jin didn't respond immediately.
He kept watching the screen, as if memorizing every detail.
"I told you," he finally said, voice low and chilling, "that detective knows something about me."
He clicked a button.
The screen went black.
And so did the warmth in the room.
His expression hardened instantly.
"Prepare the next attack."
Ji-hoon hesitated — only for a second.
Then nodded.
"Yes… sir."
Tae-jin's jaw tightened, his voice dropping into something darker. Something dangerous.
"This time," he said, each word sharp, "the attack will be on her."
A pause.
A quiet breath.
"Take her."
His eyes gleamed with something terrifying.
"I want her alive."
Across the city, the tension had already begun to spread.
Ryu Seon-woo's office was filled with paper, silence, and unease.
Files lay scattered across the table — printed emails, timelines, surveillance notes. Every surface looked like it had been searched and searched again.
No one spoke at first.
Only the sound of papers turning broke the stillness.
Ha-rin finally exhaled.
"This isn't a coincidence," she said quietly. "Someone is planning something big."
Seo-jin's face paled instantly.
"You mean…" His voice tightened. "The next target is you?"
Ha-rin didn't flinch.
"Maybe."
Seon-woo reacted before he could stop himself.
"I won't let that happen."
The words came out firm. Instinctive.
Real.
Ha-rin looked at him.
Their eyes met — and for a brief moment, everything else disappeared.
The room.
The danger.
The fear.
There was only that unspoken connection growing between them.
Seo-jin saw it too.
And it hurt.
He looked away quickly, swallowing something bitter.
Dae-jin cleared his throat.
"What will you do, sir?"
Seon-woo's expression turned sharp again.
"Increase Miss Ha-rin's security," he said. "And monitor everyone around her."
"I don't need that," Ha-rin snapped, impatience slipping through her calm. "Nothing will happen to me."
Seon-woo opened his mouth to argue—
But she lifted her hand, stopping him.
The gesture was small.
But it carried fire.
Something intense passed between them — stubbornness, concern, something deeper neither of them dared to name.
Seo-jin looked down.
Jealousy flickered quietly behind his eyes.
Then suddenly—
"Where is your uncle, Mr. Seon-woo?"
The question cut through the room like a blade.
Seon-woo didn't notice the weight behind it.
"He's out of the city for a few days," he replied casually.
Ha-rin's eyes sharpened.
"When will he be back?"
"Maybe… in a month."
She and Seo-jin exchanged a look.
A silent understanding.
A shared suspicion.
Seo-jin leaned closer to her and whispered something too soft for anyone else to hear.
Ha-rin's expression didn't change — but something in her eyes did.
He stepped back and left the room without another word.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Unfinished.
Unspoken.
Between Seon-woo and Ha-rin, something continued to grow — fragile and dangerous at the same time.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But the clock had already started ticking.
Night fell quietly.
Too quietly.
Ha-rin returned home exhausted, shoulders heavy, mind louder than the silence around her.
She closed the door behind her and slipped off her heels, letting out a long breath.
The apartment was completely still.
No traffic sounds.
No neighbors.
Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the echo of her own footsteps.
Something about it felt wrong.
Then—
Scratch.
A soft sound.
Right at the door.
Her body froze instantly.
Slowly, she turned.
A brown envelope slid from beneath the door, stopping near her feet.
Her pulse spiked.
She bent down carefully and picked it up.
Her fingers trembled as she tore it open.
Photos spilled out.
One after another.
Dozens of them.
Her leaving the office.
Her drinking coffee in the cafeteria.
Her standing alone on her balcony.
Each photo taken from a distance.
But close enough to feel personal.
Too personal.
Her breathing became shallow.
Cold realization washed over her like ice water.
"He's been following me…" she whispered.
The photos slipped from her hands, scattering across the floor.
Her eyes widened as the truth slammed into her chest.
"I was right…" she murmured, voice breaking. "Tae-jin knows everything now."
The camera of memory lingered on the floor.
On one photograph in particular.
A close-up.
Ha-rin standing near her bedroom window.
Looking straight ahead.
Straight into the lens.
As if she had been watched even in the moments she thought she was alone.
The room felt smaller.
Darker.
Unsafe.
And then—
Blackness.
Complete silence.
And somewhere, in the darkness beyond her walls—
A game had already begun.
And she was no longer just chasing it.
She was inside it.
The game had just started.
To be continued…