Even as the funeral drew to a close, Seonghee lingered nearby, pretending to mourn, yet every subtle movement betrayed her unease. I could feel her energy, a mixture of suppressed rage, jealousy, and fear. She was studying me now, just as I had studied her, trying to anticipate my next move—but for once, she was the one on edge.
I took a slow step closer, deliberately entering her line of sight. The faint sunlight caught the jagged scar across her cheek, and I allowed my lips to curl into a soft, almost innocent smile. "That scar suits you," I said casually, my voice light but dripping with implication. "It reminds everyone who sees it… who failed. Who underestimated me."
Her eyes narrowed sharply, and her breath hitched ever so slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but I raised a hand in mock apology. "Oh, don't take it personally. I'm not mocking you… not yet," I added, letting the words hang like a blade between us.
Jun-seo's presence behind me was steady, silent, a reminder that I was not alone—but I wanted her to feel the weight of my gaze first. Seonghee's fists clenched at her sides, and she stepped back subtly, though she masked it with practiced grace.
"You've grown bold," she said finally, voice low and dangerous, attempting to regain control. "Don't think a scar and a few games you've won make you untouchable."
I laughed softly, the sound sharp and cold. "Untouchable?" I echoed. "No, Seonghee… I've learned something far more valuable than invincibility. I've learned how to use every mistake you've ever made. Every attack. Every betrayal. Every threat. And now…" I let my smile deepen, almost mischievous, "…every single one of your weaknesses is in my hands. All I need to do is pull the strings."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the momentary flicker of fear she tried to hide. That scar, the failed attempt, and the memory of that day at the villa—all of it had shifted the balance. I wasn't just surviving anymore. I was controlling the narrative.
Jun-seo finally stepped closer, his hand lightly brushing my shoulder. "Careful," he murmured, a warning, but also a quiet acknowledgment of my plan. "She's dangerous… and Myun Hyuk's shadow is still long. But you're not alone."
I tilted my head slightly, meeting Jun-seo's eyes. "I don't need to be alone to make them regret everything," I said softly. Then, turning back to Seonghee, I added, voice low and deliberate, "Consider this a warning. I'm done being your victim. And soon, everyone will see the truth. Not just about you… but about all of them who thought they could control me."
Seonghee's jaw tightened, and her eyes glinted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. She tried to step forward, but I remained poised, a smile ghosting my lips. "Be careful what you wish for, Seonghee," I whispered. "Because the next move is mine. And I don't plan to lose."
The tension hung in the air like a tangible storm, silent yet suffocating. Jun-seo's grip on my arm tightened slightly, and I knew he felt it too—the game had changed. Seonghee, once the hunter, was now the hunted.
And I… was ready to play.
---
Seonghee didn't move.
She just stood there, staring at me as if she were looking at something she couldn't fully comprehend — a version of me she had never faced before.
The crowd around the funeral slowly began to disperse. A few reporters whispered, stealing glances at us, sensing something uncomfortable in the air, but too afraid to approach.
Jun‑seo stayed close behind me like a silent pillar of gravity.
But I took one more step toward Seonghee, closing whatever fragile distance she was clinging to.
Her scar, the deep slice that ran from her cheek to the bridge of her nose, was a red‑pink slash beneath the makeup she'd hurriedly used to hide it. But nothing could hide the truth — not now.
I let my gaze linger on it… then lifted my eyes to hers.
"You heal nicely," I murmured.
Her whole face twitched.
A tremor ran down her fingers.
That scar wasn't just a wound — it was humiliation carved into her flesh.
She swallowed. "You're proud of what you did?"
"Proud?"
I tilted my head, letting my expression soften into something almost sweet.
"No.
I'm delighted."
The way her breath stuttered told me everything — she thought she knew the extent of what I could do. She still hadn't understood that she had only seen the beginning.
Behind me, Jun‑seo exhaled sharply through his nose. He wasn't stopping me. Not this time.
"You ruined my life," Seonghee hissed. "Everything you touch burns. You steal, you manipulate, you—"
"Stop."
I raised a finger.
"If you want to accuse me, at least be accurate.
I don't steal anything, Seonghee.
People offer things to me because they're too foolish to protect them."
Her jaw clenched so hard I thought her teeth might crack.
I took another slow step closer. She instinctively stepped back — a tiny movement, but deafening in meaning.
I had her on the defensive.
"You should be grateful," I murmured. "You got a scar instead of a coffin. I was merciful."
Seonghee's eyes widened with pure hatred.
"Merciful? You almost—"
"I almost did what you tried to do to me first." I cut her off sharply. "But the difference between you and me, Seonghee…"
I leaned forward, my voice barely above a whisper.
"…is that I don't fail."
Her nostrils flared. She looked like she was about to lunge at me right there, in front of the priests, mourners, and Jun‑seo.
But she didn't.
Because she felt it — the shift in power.
The fear creeping into her bones.
The realization that she wasn't the monster in this story anymore.
I was.
Jun‑seo finally spoke, his voice low, controlled.
"Don't provoke her," he murmured to me.
But I smiled without looking away from Seonghee.
"Why? She provokes me just by breathing."
Seonghee trembled. Her scar shone red in the cold wind.
"You really think this is over?" she whispered venomously.
"No," I whispered back. "This is the beginning. And trust me… you're not prepared for what comes next."
Her pupils shrank.
Jun‑seo stepped between us finally, blocking her path and forcing her to step back further.
"Stay away from her," he warned Seonghee. "No more attacks. No more surprises. If you go near her again—"
"She ruined me first!" Seonghee shouted, her voice cracking.
"No," I corrected gently.
"You ruined yourself by thinking you could beat me."
She froze.
Because the worst part was… she knew it was true.
I gave her one last smile — soft, harmless, terrifying.
"Get used to that scar, Seonghee," I whispered. "It's the only thing you'll ever have left from trying to destroy me."
Her eyes filled with tears of fury, not sorrow.
Jun‑seo touched my shoulder lightly. "Let's go."
But before we turned away, I leaned in close enough for Seonghee to smell the faint perfume on my wrist.
"And one more thing," I said softly.
"You're not the only one who's going to lose everything."
I stepped back.
Seonghee's breath shattered.
And I walked away from her — calm, elegant, untouchable — as she stood trembling in her ruined pride, her ruined face, and her ruined life.
As Seonghee stormed off, her fury barely contained behind a mask of composure, I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile. Yet beneath that calm exterior, a new plan was already taking shape. Every movement she had made, every glance, every twitch of her body… it was all data. Information I could use, leverage I could twist.
Jun-seo's hand brushed mine lightly, a reminder that I was not alone in this, and I gave a subtle nod. "It's working," I whispered. "She's already reacting the way I predicted. She doesn't know who's really in control anymore."
He glanced at me, eyes narrowing. "You really mean to use this… funeral, this gathering, as part of your plan?"
I smiled, faint and dangerous. "Not just the funeral. Everything from now on. Every move they make, every attempt to corner me… it's going to be their undoing."
And then… the twist revealed itself.
A phone vibrated in my pocket. I glanced down, expecting Jun-seo's call or perhaps news of the investigation, but instead, it was a number I didn't recognize. Hesitating for just a second, I answered.
"Ajin," a cold, measured voice spoke. "I know exactly what you've been planning. And you're walking straight into a trap you don't even see."
I froze. The voice was familiar, unnervingly so, but distorted enough to conceal identity. My pulse quickened. "Who is this?" I demanded.
"You'll find out soon," the voice whispered, then hung up abruptly.
I looked up at Jun-seo, who was already scanning the area, his instincts immediately alert. "Who was that?" he asked, tense.
"I don't know… but they know everything," I said, my mind racing. Every smile I'd given Seonghee, every subtle manipulation, every carefully placed move—I suddenly realized someone else had been watching all along. Someone who knew more than I did.
A chill ran down my spine. "Jun-seo… it's not just Seonghee or Myun Hyuk. Someone else has been pulling strings behind the scenes. And if they've been this patient… then they're far more dangerous than either of them."
Jun-seo's jaw tightened. "Then we need to find out who before they strike. Whoever this is, they could ruin everything you've worked for… and everything Jao died protecting."
I took a deep breath, the tension in my body coiling like a spring. "I've survived Myun Hyuk. I've outmaneuvered Seonghee. But this… this is a new game. And now… it's personal."
As we turned away from the funeral crowd, the sense of being watched pressed down on me like a storm cloud. A new adversary, hidden, patient, and cunning, had entered the field. And for the first time, I realized that the real game wasn't about revenge anymore—it was about survival against an enemy I couldn't yet see.
The twist settled in my chest like ice. Whoever this was… knew too much. And if I wasn't careful… they could destroy everything.