Freen stood at the edge of the alley, her heart pounding against her ribs like a warning drum. The text had been brief—I know what really happened to Mr. On. Meet me here. Come alone.
She waited, hands tucked into her coat pockets to hide the tremble in her fingers.
A man appeared in the distance, walking toward her. Head down. Cap low, shielding his face. His steps were quick, deliberate.
Her breath caught.
But he walked right past her.
Freen let out a shaky sigh. Wrong person. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something about him was off.
Her eyes followed him as he disappeared further down the alley. He was moving fast—too fast—and dragging something behind him. She squinted. From this distance, she couldn't tell what it was, but unease prickled at the back of her neck.
It didn't look right.
Instinct overruled hesitation.
She started after him.
"No!" Freen shouted, her voice echoing sharply through the alley as the man passed her and headed toward Mr. Jaa—who, unsurprisingly, was there, just as she suspected, tailing her.
The man didn't turn around. He kept his back to her as her voice hung in the air.
Freen stopped in her tracks, watching him glance briefly in her direction. She took a cautious step back, but the man said nothing and continued walking.
Her eyes caught the object in his hand—a folded map.
"Eh?" Freen blurted, scratching her head awkwardly as realization dawned. The man was just a lost tourist.
He approached Mr. Jaa and, looking desperately confused, asked for directions to the city center.
Freen frowned. Isn't there Google Maps?Does he not have a phone?
Just as she was about to step forward and ask, suddenly a strong hand grabbed her arm. Before she could react, a cloth—stiff and soaked—was pressed firmly over her mouth.
Panic surged as she struggled to scream, but the handkerchief muffled her cries.
Mr. Jaa blinked in surprise. The man he had thought was about to attack him was simply asking for directions. He began to explain the way to the city center, glancing briefly toward Freen's last position—and that's when his eyes widened. She was gone.
Blackness engulfed Freen's vision. Blindfolded and bound, she could only guess where she was. The steady hum and vibration of an engine beneath her told her she was inside a moving vehicle.
Her heart hammered in her chest. Stay calm, she told herself. Think. Find a way out.
She struggled slightly against the tape binding her wrists, trying to loosen it without making too much noise.
"Don't even think of doing anything wrong, ma'am, if you still want to go back alive," a low, warning voice hissed.
The man's grip tightened as he noticed her struggling. Freen froze, realizing this was no ordinary kidnapper. This man was dangerous—and reckless resistance might cost her dearly.
Swallowing her fear, she forced her voice steady. "What do you want from me? Who sent you?"
The silence that followed was thick—then she heard it: a slight tremble in his breathing, a nervous edge beneath his cold tone.
"What do you want from me? Who told you to do this?" Freen's voice was steady, deliberately calm. The abductor didn't answer—only the faint sound of his breathing broke the silence. But beneath that silence, she sensed his nervousness.
"You know, I could've just paid you," she added softly, trying to connect, to find a crack in his armor. "Why go through all this if you didn't need to? "
The man's head shifted slightly toward her voice. For a moment, she caught the flicker of surprise in his tone, almost like he didn't expect her to remain so composed.
How can she be so calm? the abductor thought, almost unsettled. She's not scared like she should be.
"I don't need your money," he finally said, his voice curt and clipped. It wasn't the answer she expected—it hinted at something deeper, something other than ransom or greed.
He's after something else, Freen realized. Something personal.
"Can you at least tell me where you're taking me?" Her voice was quieter now, laced with nervousness she fought to keep hidden. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to focus.
No reply.
The silence stretched long and cold.
Freen's mind raced for a plan, for any weakness she could exploit. This wasn't just about survival—it was about uncovering the truth behind Mr. On's death. And maybe, just maybe, this man held answers she needed.
"Why are you being good to me, even though you might die by my hands right now?" the abductor finally spoke, his voice low and rough. "Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?"
Freen from the direction of his voice and spoke. "I'm not afraid of you killing me," she said quietly, carefully choosing her words. "But I am afraid of the consequences that will follow your actions." She hoped her calm tone would stir something—sympathy, doubt, or hesitation.
There was a long pause. Then, almost as if surprised by her own words, she added softly, "And I believe you're not a bad person. So why would I be afraid of you?"
She turned slowly toward the voice, eyes steady. The air between them thickened with unspoken questions and fragile trust.
"You know, you don't have to do this," Freen said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "If you have a problem with me, just tell me. Abducting me won't solve anything, and it definitely won't bring you any good in the end. I understand you might have your reasons, but there are better ways to handle whatever's bothering you. Let's talk—maybe we can find a solution together."
But the man didn't seem interested in listening. His grip tightened slightly, and his face remained hard as stone. Freen's heart sank, frustration mixing with fear, but she refused to give up hope.
"Why would I believe an award-winning actress like you?" he snapped, voice cold and bitter. "I'm only doing this because of my sister. I don't care about you one bit."
"Sister?" Freen echoed, her voice tinged with confusion. "You mean your sister ordered you to kidnap me?" She swallowed hard, searching the man's face for any hint of the truth. "Why? What harm did I cause her?"
Her mind raced, trying to piece together who this sister could be—and what connection she had to Freen. Was she another victim of the same dark past as her brother? Or was she somehow involved in this twisted plan? Despite the urgency to focus on her own safety and find a way out, Freen's thoughts kept drifting back to the sister.
She waited, breath held, for an answer.
But the abductor remained silent.
"No. She has nothing to do with this," the abductor said quietly.
Freen frowned, confused. "But you just said you're doing this because of your sister."
The man looked away briefly, then met her gaze. "Yes, I am… but she doesn't know I'm doing this for her."
Freen's confusion deepened. She watched as the car slowed and finally stopped.
"I know it sounds strange," he continued, voice heavy with emotion, "but I had to do something to show her how much she means to me… before I run out of time."
Suddenly, he reached over and removed the blindfold. Freen blinked, adjusting to the harsh light, and realized they were parked in front of a hospital.
Pieces started to fall into place—but she still needed answers.
"What are we doing here? " Freen asked.
"No. She has nothing to do with this," the abductor said quietly.
Freen frowned, confused. "But you just said you're doing this because of your sister."
The man looked away briefly, then met her gaze. "Yes, I am… but she doesn't know I'm doing this for her."
Freen's confusion deepened. She watched as the car slowed and finally stopped.
"I know it sounds strange," he continued, voice heavy with emotion, "but I had to do something to show her how much she means to me… before I run out of time."
Suddenly, he reached over and removed the blindfold. Freen blinked, adjusting to the harsh light, and realized they were parked in front of a hospital.
Pieces started to fall into place—but she still needed answers.
"What are we doing here?" Freen asked.
"She's only sixteen… she's the only family I have left." His voice cracked, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Though Freen couldn't see his face fully, she could hear the raw ache in his voice—this man was drowning in pain.
Freen glanced around the inside of the van, noting the stacks of boxes and faded logo on the door—it was a delivery vehicle, and he was dressed in a courier's uniform. Everything about him screamed desperation masked in routine.
She turned toward him gently. "Where is your sister?"
The man exhaled shakily, still not looking at her. For a moment, silence filled the truck. Then, without turning his head, he nodded toward the hospital entrance.
"She's in there," he murmured. "Room 318. Leukemia."
Freen's breath caught. The puzzle pieces were fitting together, but the edges were jagged and sharp. Still, something inside her softened.
"What does this have to do with me? " she asked, quieter now—less afraid, more heartbroken.
On the Other Hand
"Please tell us where your friend took Freen," Mr. Jaa demanded, his tone sharp but controlled as he questioned the man who had been seen giving directions before the abduction. He suspected this man might be connected to the people who had taken her.
"I-I don't know," the man stammered. "I only saw a van. Tinted windows. Parked right over there before it happened."
Mr. Jaa took notes and thanked him curtly, but didn't release him. He was the only witness aside from Mr. Jaa himself, and the authorities needed to confirm every detail and protect the integrity of their investigation.
CCTV footage soon confirmed the man's statement. The van was real, and its license plate was partially visible. From there, they traced its movements through street cameras, narrowing down its current location.
As the rescue team mobilized, Saint made a special request to keep the operation discreet—no press, no leaks. He knew that media chaos could endanger Freen even further.
"Sir, we're all in position at your command," one officer reported.
They watched from a distance as Freen stepped out of the van—untied, unharmed, standing beside a man dressed in a delivery uniform. In his hands, he held a cake.
Mr. Jaa narrowed his eyes. "No. No one moves."
Saint turned to him, just as puzzled.
"She's not trying to escape. And he's not threatening her," Mr. Jaa said. "They brought a cake… and they're going back into the hospital?"
The scene didn't add up. Mr. Jaa issued a clear order: "Stand by. No one is to move without my command."
He turned to Saint. "Come with me."
They entered the hospital unnoticed, moving quietly through the halls until they reached the room Freen and the man had entered.
Inside, Freen listened quietly as the man finally explained everything.
"She's only sixteen… and she's dying," he said, his voice trembling. "Stage 4 cancer. The doctors said her time is short. They advised us to make her last moments count. And her only wish… was to meet you, Freen."
He gestured toward the fragile girl in the bed, who beamed with joy, holding the cake they brought. The girl's eyes sparkled—not from health, but from happiness. She was meeting her idol on what would become her final birthday.
"I know what I did was wrong. I tried reaching out so many times, but your people—your security, your staff—they never let me through. I just wanted to make her wish come true. I didn't know any other way."
Freen's eyes welled with tears. "God… Why no one told me this?" she whispered. "You didn't have to go this far. You didn't have to scare me just to ask for my help."
She wiped her face, her heart breaking from the overwhelming truth. "Who the hell stopped you from reaching me?" she asked, but the man just looked down silently.
Outside the room, Mr. Jaa and Saint stood quietly, listening.
"Stand down," Mr. Jaa finally told his team over the radio. "We're not pressing charges. This isn't a threat—it's a goodbye."
They remained by the door and watched, hearts heavy, as the girl's breathing weakened. Freen held her hand, whispering softly to her until the monitors flatlined.
The doctor entered quietly and confirmed what they already knew.
Freen broke into sobs, clutching the girl's hand as if letting go would shatter her. Saint stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as she cried.
Later, under the cover of night, Saint and Mr. Jaa quietly escorted Freen out of the hospital, making sure no one noticed. No reporters, no fans—just silence.
And the memory of a girl whose last wish was granted.
Inside the Car – Moments After Leaving the Hospital
"You wanna talk about it?" Saint asked gently, his voice low, careful not to disturb the fragile silence that had settled since they left the hospital.
They were both seated in the back seat, the soft hum of the engine and the occasional streetlight flickering past them the only movements in the quiet.
Freen didn't answer. She didn't even turn to look at him. Her gaze remained glued to the window, eyes unfocused, watching a city she wasn't really seeing.
DING.DING.DING.
Saint's phone vibrated relentlessly in his jacket pocket.
"Shit," he muttered, pulling it out. His brows furrowed. "Seriously? The media. They're so fast. And fucking resourceful."
He quickly silenced the phone, his jaw tight as he scanned through the notifications. Headlines were already forming. Speculation. Leaks. Lies.
"She doesn't even get to rest," Freen said quietly, her voice like cracked glass.
Saint looked up.
"I watched her die, Saint," she continued, finally turning her head just slightly. "And the first thing the world does is... twist it into a headline."
Saint didn't know what to say. He placed the phone face-down on the seat beside him.
"I wasn't kidnapped," Freen said, louder now. "Not really. I was brought to her. Because her brother was desperate to give her the one thing she kept dreaming of."
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it fast, not showing weakness.
"They'll call him a criminal. A kidnapper. Maybe even worse."
"But he gave her peace," Saint said gently. "And you gave her joy."
"I need to talk. To the public. I don't want this story to be told by anyone else but me."Freen said in a cold voice.
Saint nodded. "I'll handle the media. Just tell me how you want it."
Freen exhaled shakily. "I'll tell them everything. Her name. Her dream. What really happened?"
She leaned back into the seat, finally resting her head. Her eyes closed, just for a moment.
"She deserved that much," she whispered. "More than a damn trending topic."
The car continued down the road, the city slowly fading behind them as the mansion came into view on the distant hillside.
In that car, grief, guilt, and quiet purpose sat side by side.