The cold metal of the bars pressed against my palms as I leaned forward, my eyes locking with his across the narrow corridor of the jail. The fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, casting long shadows over his sharp features, highlighting the cruel smirk that never seemed to leave his face.
"You really thought you had it all, didn't you?" I spat, my voice low, full of venom. "Thought you could play me, control me, trap me… and everything would bend to your will?"
Myun Hyuk's laugh was a quiet, chilling sound, echoing in the empty space between us. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said smoothly, eyes glinting with malice. "I always knew. You weren't just a pawn, Ajin. You were part of it. Part of my secrets, part of the games I've played… even the murders you think I orchestrated alone. You've been hiding behind innocence, but the truth is… you're not clean either."
I froze for a split second, my heart hammering, but I refused to show fear. My chest rose and fell with measured breaths as I stared him down, my hatred and disbelief mingling with the spark of fury. "You're insane," I said finally, grinding my teeth. "You made me a victim? You tried to manipulate me to cover your own filth? I've survived every trap you set, every lie you threw… and now you think putting me here changes anything?"
He leaned closer to the bars, the distance between us barely a foot, and his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Oh, it changes everything. Because now… you're mine in the eyes of the law. Every secret you've uncovered, every little advantage you thought you had—it's all trapped with us. Together… behind bars."
I laughed, sharp and bitter, though it trembled with rage. "Mine? You don't own me, Myun Hyuk. Don't you dare try. You've underestimated me for too long."
"Underestimated?" He smirked, tilting his head. "No, Ajin. I always knew. You're clever, resourceful… lethal, even. But cleverness can only take you so far when the law has you by the throat. When everything you've built, every lie you thought you had buried, is in my hands… How does it feel to finally be powerless?"
I pressed my forehead against the cold metal of the bars, fury and fear coiling inside me like fire. "Powerless? I've never been powerless, Myun Hyuk. You can handcuff me, throw me in a cell, surround me with the law… but I am not defeated. Not by you. Not by anyone."
He leaned back, eyes glimmering with both amusement and calculation. "We'll see, Ajin. Soon, the world will see the truth about both of us… and the question is: who will survive the revelation… and who will be crushed by it?"
I drew back, gripping the bars tighter, my gaze locked with his. "I'll survive. You… you won't know what hit you. I will turn this, every last bit of this prison, this accusation, this twisted game… against you. Just wait."
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, punctuated only by the distant clatter of metal and the faint murmur of the jail around us. For the first time, I realized that this wasn't just about freedom. It wasn't just about justice. It was about the war between us—two cunning, relentless forces, finally facing each other without masks.
And I would not lose.
The air between us felt electrically charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. My grip tightened on the rusted bars until my knuckles whitened.
Myun Hyuk crossed his arms, leaning casually against the opposite bars—too relaxed for someone who had just been arrested for a chain of murders. His smirk only deepened, slicing across his face like a wound that refused to close.
"You're quiet now," he taunted softly.
"Not quiet," I snapped. "Just disgusted."
He clicked his tongue. "Disgusted? By me? Don't pretend you're better. You learned from me—you used people just as efficiently. Jao… Inkang… even Junseo. Don't act like their blood isn't staining your hands too."
My stomach tightened—anger, not guilt.
"You dragged them into this. You made them lose themselves. You created the chaos, the traps, the lies."
His eyes sharpened. "I didn't force you to follow. You had a choice."
"No," I hissed. "I had to survive."
He laughed then—a dry, hollow sound that echoed against the cell walls. "And this is survival for you? Locked up across from the only man who truly understands you?"
I stepped closer, my voice low, sharp as a blade. "Don't mistake understanding for attachment. I never needed you."
"I think you did," he murmured. "You and I… we were a perfect match. I manipulated, you adapted. I set traps, you slipped through and built your own. You're here because you're more like me than you want to admit."
"You're delusional."
"I'm right."
His calmness infuriated me more than his accusations.
Then he leaned forward, his fingers wrapping around his own bars, mirroring my posture.
"You're acting angry," he whispered, "but the real reason you hate this situation is because now… you've lost control."
I stared at him, my pulse hammering.
"You think you've won because you dragged me down with you?" I said. "You're wrong. This is only the beginning."
"Oh, I know," he replied, almost amused. "That's why I told them everything. Every secret. Every shadow of your involvement. I wanted us to stand at the same starting line. Same weight. Same exposure."
"So you're pulling me down just so we both drown?"
"No." His voice softened in a way that made my skin crawl.
"So we destroy each other… properly."
I inhaled sharply, fury burning hotter. "You're sick."
"And you're pretending you aren't."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Even the guards watching us from the far corner didn't dare interrupt.
Finally, I lowered my voice, letting every word drip like poison.
"You think you've trapped me. But you know what the difference between us is, Myun Hyuk?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"You need control to survive. I become stronger without it."
His smirk faltered—just slightly.
"And that," I said with a cold smile, "is why you'll lose."
Before he could respond, a guard banged his baton against the metal.
"Enough. Back away from the bars. Both of you."
Myun Hyuk stepped back slowly, still watching me.
Still smirking.
Still provoking.
But something about his eyes had changed.
And something inside me had shifted, too.
This wasn't just rivalry anymore.
This was war.
One that would be fought inside cells, interrogation rooms, and minds.
And only one of us would walk out intact.
The sky hung low, gray and heavy, as if the clouds themselves mourned the loss we all tried to process. I stepped out of the car, Jun-seo beside me, his expression unreadable as we approached the solemn gathering of mourners. The air was thick with the scent of incense and fresh flowers, and the soft hum of whispered condolences floated around us like a fragile, mournful veil.
I felt the weight of every step pressing down on me. My eyes, cold and calculated on the surface, betrayed a flicker of sorrow as I scanned the crowd. Police officers, journalists, friends, and strangers who had known Jao all mingled quietly, the somber atmosphere contrasting sharply with the chaos that had led us here.
Jun-seo's hand brushed against mine, subtle, almost protective, though he said nothing. I allowed the contact, letting it anchor me for the moment. We reached the front of the casket, draped in white and framed by wreaths of pale flowers. My chest tightened. Seeing Jao—lifeless, final—was like staring into a mirror of everything I had tried to protect him from.
"He… he was always brave," I whispered, voice barely audible, though it carried the weight of all the secrets, all the battles, and all the risks he had taken for me. "Even when I asked him to… even when I used him… he never faltered."
Jun-seo's jaw tightened, a flash of emotion crossing his otherwise stoic face. "He was loyal," he said, quietly, almost as if speaking to Jao himself. "Even to the point of death. And he… he chose to help you."
I clenched my fists, fighting the swell of emotion threatening to break through my carefully constructed armor. "I know," I murmured. "And I… I failed him. I failed him because I couldn't protect him from… everything." My voice trembled, though I pressed my lips into a thin line, forcing the tears back. Showing weakness now wouldn't change anything—wouldn't bring him back.
The priest's voice rose, calling for silent reflection. I bowed my head, focusing on the memories that flickered through my mind: the late-night phone calls, the plans he had executed at my command, the way he had risked himself without hesitation. Every smile, every word of encouragement, every shadowy act he had committed for me—all of it weighed on me.
Jun-seo stood beside me, silent but supportive, his presence a quiet reassurance amidst the storm of grief. I could feel the tension between us—unspoken words, mutual understanding of the dangerous games we had both been forced to play, and the shared burden of loss that hung over our heads.
I let out a slow breath, steadying myself as the ceremony continued. The world was still cruel, still unpredictable. Jao was gone, but I knew his legacy—his loyalty, his courage—would shape my next moves. I had survived death and manipulation before, but now… the stakes had shifted.
I glanced at Jun-seo, eyes meeting his briefly. "We… we have to be careful," I whispered. "His death… it's not just an end. It's a warning. And the people who did this… they're still out there."
Jun-seo nodded, understanding the gravity behind my words. Together, we stood over the casket, silent, our minds racing with plans, revenge, and the heavy weight of grief. And though the funeral marked the end of Jao's life, it also marked the beginning of a new phase—one where every choice, every move, every alliance would be tested against the shadows that now threatened to consume us all.
The crowd slowly dispersed, the murmurs of condolences fading into the chill of the late afternoon air. I lingered near the casket a moment longer, my fingers brushing against the polished wood as if reaching for a memory that could never return. The grief was sharp, jagged, but beneath it simmered something darker—a slow-burning resolve. Jao's death was not just a tragedy; it was a spark. A warning that the world I navigated, the dangerous games I had played, came with consequences.
Jun-seo's presence beside me was steady, his silence more comforting than words. "Ajin," he finally spoke, voice low, carrying a weight that matched my own. "We can't waste time grieving. Not entirely. The people responsible… they're still out there. Myun Hyuk… Seonghee… anyone who tried to hurt Jao or us. They won't stop."
I nodded slowly, my cold exterior returning as I straightened. "I know," I said, voice firm, though a flicker of sorrow lingered in my eyes. "But I won't let his death be in vain. Jao… he gave everything, even his life, to protect me. I can't just… stand still. I need to make sure his sacrifice counts."
Jun-seo studied me, eyes narrowing slightly. "And how do you plan to do that?"
A faint, almost mischievous smirk curled on my lips. "By using everything I have… and everyone who tried to manipulate me. Jao knew the risks, and he trusted me enough to step into the fire. Now… I'll step in fully. No more hiding. No more playing innocent."
The memory of Myun Hyuk's chilling words in the villa, his threats, and the video that had shaken even him, surged into my mind. I could feel the anger and determination coiling within me like a living thing. The man who thought he could control me, who had made me a pawn, would soon discover that I was far from powerless.
Jun-seo glanced around, careful to ensure no eavesdroppers lingered near the funeral grounds. "And what about Seonghee?" he asked. "She's unpredictable… and dangerous."
I tilted my head slightly, eyes gleaming with cold calculation. "Let her underestimate me. That will be her biggest mistake. And as for Myun Hyuk…" I let the name linger like a shadow in the air. "He's going to realize too late that the puppet he tried to make me is holding the scissors."
Jun-seo's lips pressed into a thin line. "I hope you're prepared for what comes next. Once you start moving against them… there's no turning back. You'll be in the crossfire."
I met his gaze, unwavering. "I know. And I'm ready. Jao's death… it only reminds me of the stakes. I won't fail—not this time. Not to him. Not to anyone."
A cold wind rustled through the flowers, carrying the faint echoes of the ceremony. The world seemed quieter now, the noise of the mourners gone, leaving just the two of us standing over the grave of a boy who had given everything. And in that quiet, I felt a surge of purpose unlike anything before.
This was no longer just survival. This was war.
I straightened my shoulders, the determination in my eyes solidifying. "We start planning tonight," I said, voice sharp and clear. "Every move, every angle… we use what we know, what we've gathered. They won't see us coming. And when the time comes…" I let a brief pause hang in the air. "…they'll regret ever underestimating me."
Jun-seo nodded once, understanding perfectly. "Then let's make sure they pay. For Jao, for you… for everything."
And with that, we turned from the grave, leaving behind the echoes of loss, stepping into the shadows where plans would be forged, and where vengeance and justice would finally begin to collide.
The soft murmur of the mourners was suddenly pierced by the click of heels on the stone path. I glanced up, and my eyes immediately locked on a familiar, unwelcome figure—Seonghee.
Her posture was perfect, almost deliberate, her designer coat flowing behind her as if she owned every inch of the space. But the gleam in her eyes betrayed the real reason she had arrived: she wanted attention, control, maybe even confrontation.
Jun-seo stiffened beside me, his hand tightening slightly around mine. "She's here," he murmured, low enough that only I could hear.
I tilted my head, lips curling into a cold, amused smile. "Of course she would come," I whispered. "She can't resist the spotlight, can she?"
Seonghee's gaze immediately found me, and her smile was sharp—forced, but laced with something dangerous. The kind of smile that promised chaos. She stepped closer, her movements slow, predatory.
"Ajin," she said, voice syrupy but edged with venom. "I see you've been busy… living in luxury, enjoying the attention, while the rest of us… suffered." Her eyes darted around, as if daring someone to challenge her, before returning to me. "Do you really think you can walk away from everything you've done without consequences?"
I laughed softly, a sound that cut through the tension, my hands resting lightly on the edge of the casket. "Seonghee," I said, voice calm, almost mocking. "I survived your games before. You attacked me, tried to ruin me, humiliated me… and here I am. Standing. Alive. Stronger than you ever imagined."
She faltered for the briefest moment, and I noticed it. The arrogance in her eyes wavered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. My amusement deepened.
Jun-seo leaned closer, whispering, "Be careful. She's unpredictable… and dangerous."
"I know," I replied softly, my gaze still fixed on Seonghee. "But I've learned, Jun-seo. I know how to turn her tricks against her."
Seonghee's lips pressed into a tight line, and she gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. "We'll see, Ajin. We'll see."
And with that, she melted back into the crowd of mourners, her presence lingering like a shadow—unsettling, but revealing that her plans were far from over.
I exhaled slowly, the weight of the encounter settling in my chest. This was no longer just about grief and revenge—it was about survival, strategy, and staying one step ahead of everyone who had ever dared to challenge me.
Jun-seo's grip on my arm tightened slightly. "You handled that well," he murmured.
I nodded, eyes still following Seonghee. "It's only the beginning," I whispered to myself. "And she has no idea what's coming next."
As Seonghee's gaze swept over the mourners, my eyes instinctively flicked to her face—and there it was. The scar across her nose and cheek, jagged and raw, a reminder of the fight by the villa's pool. The very moment she had tried to destroy me, her own reflection in my pain had left its mark.
A slow, almost imperceptible smirk crossed my lips. That scar… it was proof. Proof of my survival, of my strength, of every move I had made to defend myself against her. And more than that—it was a symbol of her failed attempt to dominate me, to humiliate me.
Jun-seo noticed my gaze lingering and leaned slightly closer. "You see it," he said quietly, his voice low.
"I do," I replied, calm but with a sharp edge beneath my words. "She tried to take me down… to ruin me. But she's the one who carries the reminder of her own failure."
Seonghee, oblivious to my scrutiny, continued moving through the crowd, her posture flawless, yet the subtle tension in her shoulders betrayed the discomfort she felt under my quiet, unwavering observation.
My mind raced. That scar was not just a mark—it was a weapon. A tool I could use, should the need arise. People would remember her attack, and they would remember her failure. And while she had once believed she held power over me, the truth was clear: the balance had shifted.
I allowed my gaze to linger for a heartbeat longer, savoring the quiet victory it symbolized. Then, with a subtle, almost imperceptible nod to Jun-seo, I turned away, letting the memory of that scar sink into my mind. Every strategy, every plan I would execute against Seonghee—and against Myun Hyuk—would be built on moments like this: evidence, symbols, and leverage.
She might have thought she had left her mark, but in truth… it was a mark she had given me to wield.
And I would wield it mercilessly.