Some secrets are buried to protect the people we love. Others are buried because we fear what will happen when they are discovered.
Alexa did not ask her husband to drive faster.
That frightened Murphy more than any of her earlier questions.
She sat unnaturally still in the passenger seat, her slender fingers gripping the leather handbag on her lap. Her dark hair, hastily gathered into an elegant knot, had begun to loosen around her face. She had always been a beautiful woman, with delicate features and eyes that could communicate displeasure without the slightest movement of her lips.
But tonight, those eyes held something Murphy rarely saw.
Fear.
The city of Seoul stretched before them, its streets glowing beneath the evening lights. Cars crawled through traffic, and pedestrians moved between crowded pavements, seemingly unaware that a little girl's life hung in uncertainty somewhere beyond the towering buildings.
Murphy loosened his necktie.
At forty, he had built a reputation as a man who rarely lost control. Tall, broad-shouldered, and usually dressed in perfectly tailored suits, Murphy Cheng commanded respect wherever he went. His employees often joked that their CEO could silence an entire conference room simply by clearing his throat.
Yet here he was, unable to find the courage to look his wife in the eyes.
"How long?" Alexa finally asked.
Murphy glanced at her.
"What?"
"How long has our daughter been in the hospital?"
"Since this afternoon."
"What time?"
He hesitated.
"A little after one. I received the call while I was attending the shareholders' meeting."
Alexa turned toward him.
"And you only thought of telling me after taking Seyong home and coming back to the house?"
"Alexa, I—"
"Don't."
The single word silenced him.
She looked away, pressing her lips together.
Murphy wanted to explain how everything had happened so quickly. How the repeated telephone calls had interrupted an important meeting. How he had arrived at the school and found his daughter unconscious on the washroom floor, with Seyong crying desperately beside her.
He wanted to tell Alexa that carrying Nyx into the hospital had been the longest journey of his life.
But what explanation could possibly comfort a mother whose daughter was lying in an emergency ward?
"I'm sorry," he said eventually.
Alexa closed her eyes.
"Just drive, Murphy."
And for once, the man who always had something to say obeyed without argument.
At the next traffic light, Murphy's phone vibrated against the centre console.
He glanced at the screen.
An unfamiliar number.
His stomach tightened.
The last unfamiliar number he had answered had brought news of Nyx's condition.
He hesitated before answering through the car's hands-free system.
"Hello?"
"Good evening. Is this Mr. Cheng?"
"Speaking."
"Sir, this is Park Boem-Seok, Nyx's mathematics teacher."
Murphy straightened.
"Mr. Park. Have you discovered what happened to my daughter?"
There was a brief silence.
"Sir, I've been trying to piece together what happened inside the girls' washroom."
Murphy gripped the steering wheel.
"Go on."
"Nyx left Seyong at their table during the break and asked her to watch her snacks while she went to the washroom. Seyong stayed there, waiting for her."
"Yes? What happened next?"
"She never came back, sir."
Murphy felt his throat tighten.
"Then where did Seyong find her?"
"Some students passed by, laughing and talking about how badly Nyx had been hurt. Seyong overheard them and rushed to the girls' washroom. That was where she found Nyx. She was already injured, and she could barely stand."
"And you?"
"I went to help when the incident was reported. Seyong was supporting her, but Nyx was getting weaker. She eventually collapsed right there in the washroom. That was where you found her, Mr. Cheng."
Murphy remembered the terrible sight that had greeted him at the school. The blood, the bruises, the helpless little body in his arms.
"What caused those injuries, Mr. Park?"
"We're still trying to determine that, sir."
"Still trying?"
His voice sharpened.
"My daughter was beaten inside your school, and nobody knows who did it?"
Alexa sat forward.
"Beaten?"
Murphy instantly regretted his choice of words.
"Murphy, what does he mean?"
"Alexa, please—"
"Mr. Park," she interrupted, "I'm Nyx's mother. Tell me exactly what happened."
The teacher hesitated again.
"Madam, whatever happened to Nyx happened inside the girls' washroom. But there is something about what followed that I find difficult to explain."
"What is it?"
"Even while Seyong and I were trying to help her in the washroom, Nyx kept speaking to someone."
Murphy frowned.
"Someone?"
"Yes, sir. She seemed frightened and kept asking questions, as though someone was threatening her."
"Then who was she speaking to?"
"That's the problem."
The line remained silent for a moment.
"Neither Seyong nor I could see anybody standing where Nyx was looking."
Murphy felt an inexplicable chill travel along his spine.
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Park?"
"I'm not suggesting anything supernatural, sir. She may have been confused or disoriented after what happened. I simply thought you should know."
Alexa pressed her fingers against her forehead.
"Please investigate this properly. My daughter doesn't invent things like that without a reason."
"I understand, madam."
Murphy ended the call after demanding a full report from the school.
For several seconds, the only sound inside the car was the low hum of the engine.
Then Alexa spoke.
"Why didn't you tell me someone had attacked her?"
Murphy swallowed.
"I didn't know the full details."
"But you saw her injuries."
"Yes."
"And you still told me you didn't know what had happened?"
He turned toward her.
"Alexa, I found our daughter unconscious on the washroom floor. I wasn't thinking about explanations. I was thinking about getting her to a hospital before she stopped breathing."
His voice broke on the last word.
Alexa stared at him.
The anger in her expression gradually faded.
She reached across the console and rested her hand on his.
"I'm frightened too," she whispered.
Murphy held her hand tightly.
Neither of them noticed the traffic light turn green until the driver behind them sounded his horn.
By the time they reached the hospital, the evening had deepened into night.
Murphy parked near the entrance, but Alexa was already opening her door before he had switched off the engine.
"Alexa, wait."
She ignored him.
The automatic glass doors slid apart as she hurried inside.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and freshly cleaned floors. Fluorescent lights illuminated the reception area, where a handful of visitors sat with the exhausted expressions of people who had spent too long waiting for news.
Murphy caught up with his wife at the counter.
"Our daughter, Nyx Cheng," Alexa said breathlessly. "She was admitted this afternoon. We need to see her."
The receptionist looked up.
"Madam, please, can you confirm—"
"I'm her mother."
"Of course, but I need to check—"
"Then check quickly!"
"Alexa."
Murphy placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
She turned sharply, ready to protest, but the exhaustion in his face stopped her.
The receptionist entered Nyx's details into the computer and made a brief telephone call.
"Mr. and Mrs. Cheng, please take a seat. The doctor will speak with you shortly."
Alexa opened her mouth.
Murphy squeezed her hand.
"Please," he murmured.
She reluctantly sat down.
Only then did he notice that she was trembling.
The attending physician arrived several minutes later.
He was a lean, middle-aged man with silver beginning to show at his temples. A pair of rectangular glasses rested on his nose, and his expression was composed in the careful manner of someone accustomed to delivering difficult news.
"Mr. Cheng?"
Murphy stood immediately.
"Doctor. How is my daughter?"
"Her breathing has improved considerably since she was brought in. We've given her treatment to stabilize her condition, and we're monitoring her closely."
Alexa exhaled shakily.
"Thank God."
"However," the doctor continued, "we're still awaiting some results and assessing the injuries she sustained before arriving here."
"What injuries?" Alexa asked.
"She has bruising around her face and signs of a recent nosebleed. We understand there may have been an incident at school."
Murphy nodded.
"That's what we're trying to establish."
The doctor glanced at the records in his hands.
"Her history of asthma is also important. The breathing difficulties may have been triggered or worsened by physical distress, but I don't want to give you an explanation without sufficient evidence."
"Can we see her?" Alexa asked.
"Yes. She's resting in a monitored room. We would prefer to keep her under observation tonight."
"Is she conscious?"
"She has shown some responses, but she hasn't fully awakened."
Alexa lowered her gaze.
Murphy noticed the way she was pressing her fingernails into her palm.
"Doctor," he said, "is there anything else we should be worried about?"
The physician studied him briefly.
"Right now, our priority is keeping her stable. If anything changes, we'll respond immediately."
It was a reasonable answer.
Unfortunately, reasonable answers were not always comforting.
The doctor led them down a long corridor.
Murphy walked beside his wife, his footsteps muffled against the polished floor.
As they approached the ward, an unpleasant memory suddenly returned.
The stranger.
The tall young man he had collided with while leaving the hospital earlier.
Murphy could still remember the spotless white T-shirt beneath the blue-black denim cap, the dark jeans, and the black face mask concealing most of the man's face.
More disturbing than his appearance had been his strength.
That single grip had nearly crushed Murphy's shoulder.
And those eyes.
For a moment, Murphy had thought he saw something burning within them.
Ridiculous.
He dismissed the memory.
My daughter is in the hospital, and I'm thinking about a stranger.
Yet the uneasiness refused to leave him.
Alexa stopped at the doorway.
Her daughter lay motionless beneath a white hospital blanket.
Nyx had always been a lively child, small for her age, with bright, curious eyes and dark hair that never seemed to remain neatly arranged for long. Her delicate face usually carried the mischievous expression of someone preparing to ask an inconvenient question.
Tonight, that familiar expression was gone.
A faint bruise darkened one cheek. The skin around her nose was tender, and an oxygen tube rested beneath her nostrils.
The steady movement of the monitor beside her bed was the only reassuring sign that she was still fighting.
Alexa felt something inside her give way.
"Nyx..."
She hurried toward the bed.
"My baby."
Her voice cracked.
She brushed the girl's hair away from her forehead, careful not to disturb the medical equipment.
"Sweetheart, Mommy is here."
Nyx did not respond.
Alexa sat beside her, gently taking her small hand.
Only that morning, her daughter had been teasing Murphy at breakfast.
The little girl had inherited her father's confidence and her mother's stubbornness, an unfortunate combination for anyone who attempted to win an argument against her.
Alexa could still picture Nyx laughing with Seyong in the back seat of the car.
She remembered watching them through the rearview mirror as she drove them to school.
Two little girls, whispering secrets and giggling as though the entire world belonged to them.
At the school entrance, Nyx had turned around and waved.
I love you, Mom.
Those had been her last words before disappearing through the gates.
Alexa bent forward and pressed her lips against her daughter's forehead.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
Her tears fell silently onto the blanket.
Murphy stood at the foot of the bed.
He had faced difficult negotiations, financial crises, and powerful men who had threatened to destroy everything he had built.
But nothing had prepared him for the sight of his daughter lying helpless before him.
He remembered the day she had watched him work in his office.
Daddy, why do people call you the boss?
Because I'm in charge of the company.
Then who is in charge of you?
Murphy had laughed.
Your mother, apparently.
Nyx had considered that answer seriously before nodding.
That makes sense.
The memory nearly broke him.
He turned away, pressing a hand against his mouth.
For the first time in years, Murphy Cheng felt completely powerless.
A nurse entered to check Nyx's observations.
She was a petite woman with neatly cropped hair and a gentle expression that seemed at odds with the clinical efficiency of her movements.
Alexa watched every adjustment she made.
"How long before she wakes up?"
"We can't say exactly, madam. But her condition has improved, which is encouraging."
"Has she spoken?"
"Not clearly."
"What do you mean?"
"She has occasionally moved and made sounds while resting. That can happen during recovery."
Murphy frowned.
"What sort of sounds?"
The nurse looked thoughtful.
"Nothing we've been able to understand."
A silence followed.
Alexa glanced at her daughter.
"She sometimes talks in her sleep," she said quietly. "Especially when she has nightmares."
"Has she been having nightmares recently?" the nurse asked.
Alexa nodded.
"A few frightening ones. Sometimes she wakes up sweating and struggling to breathe."
The nurse made a note.
"It's worth mentioning that to the doctor."
After completing her checks, she left them alone.
Murphy drew a chair beside his wife.
For a long while, they watched their daughter in silence.
Then Alexa spoke.
"Do you remember the night she asked me to sleep beside her?"
Murphy nodded.
"After her birthday?"
"Yes."
"She made you watch cartoons until you both fell asleep."
A sad smile touched Alexa's lips.
"She was frightened after having a strange dream. She kept holding onto me, even after she'd fallen asleep again."
Murphy looked at Nyx.
"She asked whether she was going to die the next morning."
Alexa's smile disappeared.
He remembered that morning vividly.
The coughing. The trembling. Their frantic search for her asthma medication.
And Nyx, frightened beyond words, asking a question no nine-year-old should have to ask.
"She's been through so much lately," Alexa whispered.
Murphy covered his daughter's hand with his own.
"She'll come back to us."
He said it with such conviction that Alexa almost believed him.
At precisely nine minutes past nine, the monitor beside Nyx's bed registered a sudden increase in her heart rate.
Alexa looked up.
"Murphy?"
He followed her gaze.
Nyx's fingers had begun to move.
At first, the movement was barely noticeable.
Then her hand tightened around Alexa's.
"Nyx?"
Alexa leaned forward.
"Sweetheart, can you hear me?"
The little girl's eyelids fluttered.
Murphy stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.
"Nyx!"
Her lips parted.
A faint sound escaped her throat.
Alexa moved closer.
"What is it, my love?"
Nyx whispered again.
It was not a word Alexa recognized.
The sound was delicate, almost musical, yet something about it made the hair on her arms rise.
"Murphy, did you hear that?"
He nodded.
Nyx's lips moved a third time.
This time, the words came more clearly.
They flowed together in a strange language, spoken with a rhythm far too deliberate to be meaningless.
Murphy stared at his daughter.
"Where would she have learned that?"
Alexa shook her head.
"I don't know."
Suddenly, Nyx's fingers tightened painfully around her mother's hand.
Her breathing quickened.
"Murphy, call someone!"
He pressed the emergency call button.
Within moments, a nurse entered and began checking the monitor.
"Nyx, can you hear me?"
The girl's lips stopped moving.
Her fingers loosened.
The nurse examined her carefully before reaching for the telephone to contact the doctor.
Alexa remained beside the bed, stroking her daughter's hair.
"Everything is all right," she whispered. "You're safe now."
But as she spoke, something changed.
A faint coldness settled over the room.
Alexa glanced toward the window.
It was closed.
The air conditioner hummed quietly above them, yet the cold seemed to creep upward from the floor.
Murphy noticed his wife rubbing her arms.
"Are you cold?"
"A little."
He moved toward the thermostat.
Then he stopped.
For no reason he could explain, his attention shifted toward the door.
A peculiar sensation tightened around his chest.
He had felt it before.
Earlier that evening.
When the masked stranger had turned to look at him.
Murphy's pulse quickened.
Don't be ridiculous.
He reached for the thermostat.
Behind him, Alexa gasped.
"Murphy!"
He turned.
Nyx's eyes were open.
For a moment, Alexa forgot how to breathe.
"My baby?"
She leaned closer, tears already gathering in her eyes.
"Nyx, sweetheart, it's Mommy."
The little girl stared ahead.
Her beautiful eyes, usually filled with curiosity and mischief, were wide with terror.
"Nyx?"
Murphy approached the bed.
"Princess?"
Neither parent received an answer.
Nyx's gaze remained fixed on something beyond them.
Her breathing became shallow.
Then, slowly, she raised one trembling hand.
She pointed toward the doorway.
Alexa followed the direction of her finger.
There was nothing unusual there.
Only the partially open door and the pale corridor beyond it.
"Sweetheart, what is it?"
Nyx's lips trembled.
"Mommy..."
The sound was barely audible.
Alexa gently cupped her daughter's cheek.
"Yes, my love. I'm here."
Nyx's eyes filled with tears.
"Mommy..."
"Tell me, sweetheart. What's wrong?"
The little girl swallowed with difficulty.
Then she asked a question that made Alexa's blood run cold.
"Why did you bring him here?"
Alexa froze.
"Bring who?"
Nyx did not answer immediately.
Her gaze shifted past her mother and settled on the space directly behind Murphy.
The color drained from her face.
She began shaking her head.
"No..."
Murphy turned around.
The doorway was empty.
But Nyx was no longer looking at the door.
She was looking higher.
As though someone very tall stood directly behind her father.
"Nyx?" Murphy whispered.
The little girl suddenly clutched her mother's hand with all the strength she had left.
"Mommy, please..."
Her eyes widened.
"Tell him not to touch Daddy."
Murphy felt the coldness settle against the back of his neck.
And somewhere behind him, so faintly that he could almost have imagined it, came the sound of someone breathing....