Blood spread across the floor like a dark, living thing — crawling, soaking into the cracks.
Jong-suk's scream ripped through the silence.
"Jae-ahn!"
Her chest rose and fell in short, desperate gasps. Both hands clutched the knife, the blade digging into her palms. Blood slid down her wrists and dripped onto the floor, each drop echoing louder than the last.
For a second, she thought she might fall.
But she didn't.
She refused.
With one last surge of strength, Jae-ahn shoved her mother away. The woman stumbled backward, shock flashing across her face.
Jae-ahn staggered toward Jong-suk — like her body remembered him before her mind did.
She fell to her knees in front of him.
The ropes cut deep into his wrists. She tore at them, hands shaking, smearing blood across his clothes, his skin, everything.
"I'm… sorry," she whispered.
"I'm so… so sorry…"
Her voice broke.
Jong-suk pulled her into his arms, trembling.
"Stop — Jae-ahn, your hands— they're bleeding—"
His breath hitched. "Please… stop hurting yourself…"
But she didn't stop.
She rested her forehead against his shoulder, feeling his fear, his warmth, his heartbeat.
Then she forced herself to stand.
"We don't have time. Where are Do-hwan and Jihu?"
Jong-suk swallowed.
"Last room. End of the corridor."
"Then we go."
A cold presence moved behind them.
Her mother lunged.
The knife sliced the air.
Jae-ahn grabbed Jong-suk's wrist and they ran — slamming the door shut and locking it from outside. Someone inside started pounding, screaming — but the lock held.
Their footsteps echoed down the long corridor.
Dark. Narrow. Smelling of dust and metal.
Men appeared from both sides, blocking the path.
Attackers.
Jong-suk stepped in front of her on instinct.
"I'll hold them. You go."
Her eyes widened.
"Why do you always want to die?"
Inside, her heart whispered:
If anything happens to you, I'll break. I swear I will break.
They fought.
Jae-ahn's movements sharpened. Even bleeding, even dizzy — she was brutal, precise, relentless.
The men underestimated her.
They shouldn't have.
She dodged, kicked, slammed one against the wall, twisted another's arm until bone cracked. Her hands trembled, but she kept going.
And then —
She saw it.
A man behind Jong-suk, raising a metal pipe.
Time slowed.
Her body moved before thought.
She ran.
The blow landed across the back of her head.
White exploded.
Then ringing.
A long, suffocating beep filled her skull.
Her vision fractured — shapes melting, colors fading.
"Jae-ahn!"
Jong-suk caught her. His fingers shook against her cheeks.
"Can you hear me? Hey! Look at me!"
She blinked.
"I… can't hear."
But she pushed forward anyway.
One step.
Another.
Her legs trembled, yet she refused to fall.
They reached the room. Do-hwan and Jihu were tied, unconscious — faces pale.
Jae-ahn shook them.
"Wake up. Please."
Their eyes slowly opened. Confusion. Shock. Pain.
The ropes came off.
They turned toward the exit—
Her mother stood at the doorway.
Calm.
Cold.
"You think you can walk out of here?"
Jihu straightened, jaw tight.
"We're together now. It's over."
"Sweetheart," her mother said softly. "Come to me. Leave them."
More men filled the hallway.
A hand yanked Jong-suk from behind. A knife pressed to his throat.
"Good," her mother murmured. "Hold them."
Knives glittered in the light — resting against every neck.
The world went quiet.
Jae-ahn swallowed the fear clawing at her throat.
"Mom… please."
She tried to steady her voice.
"You won't hurt them. If you do, your experiment fails."
Her mother's eyes narrowed.
"How would you know that?"
Jae-ahn's chest tightened.
"Because you were the one who kidnapped them. Do-hwan escaped. Jong-suk didn't. He suffered for months — because of you."
Her voice cracked into anger.
"My Jong-suk suffered. Because of you."
Her mother blinked — surprised, then almost amused.
"And?"
Jihu spoke desperately:
"Mom, enough. Stop this."
But Jae-ahn kept going.
"You never planned on saving us. Did you?"
Her mother's face turned empty.
"No. Bodies can be replaced. Even if the body… is you."
Silence.
Jihu froze.
Jong-suk's breath stuttered.
Jae-ahn laughed softly — broken.
"Brother… look. My own mother wants me dead."
Jong-suk shook his head.
"Don't say that. Don't—"
She ignored him.
"Stab me or don't. It doesn't matter anymore. I grew up like I never existed. I was the girl who didn't belong. The murderer. The mistake."
Her voice rose. Tears blurred her sight.
"Everyone blamed me. And you knew the truth — but you never came."
Jihu's voice trembled.
"Jae-ahn, stop. Please look at me."
She turned back to her mother.
"Tell me the truth. Are you… really my mother?"
A slow smile spread across the woman's face.
The knife flashed.
It plunged into Jae-ahn's stomach.
Her breath vanished.
Heat. Pain. Shock.
Jihu and Jong-suk screamed her name.
Blood poured from the wound. She sank slowly to the floor, hands shaking as they pressed uselessly against the blade.
"Mom…"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Why?"
Jong-suk struggled, tears streaming.
"She's dying! Please — let her go! She's still your daughter!"
Her mother tilted her head.
"Who said she's my daughter?"
The world tilted.
Jae-ahn stared, eyes wide, empty.
"She was never born," her mother continued quietly.
"She was created. A result. A project."
The room went silent.
"I changed her — bone marrow, DNA. Built a rare blood type. A perfect subject. Her blood is worth more than she is."
Jae-ahn's breath shook.
She pushed against the floor and stood.
Barely.
Her head bled. Her stomach bled. Her arms shook. But she stood.
"I'm not sad," she whispered.
"I finally understand. Why you never loved me. Why Jihu mattered and I didn't."
She smiled softly — bitter, tired.
"But if I die… I won't forgive you."
With the last strength she had left, she shoved her mother away.
"JONG-SUK!"
He moved instantly, breaking free, slamming his attacker into the wall. Do-hwan and Jihu fought back, rage replacing fear.
Chaos erupted.
Her mother lunged again.
The knife rose.
It struck.
Deep.
Another scream tore from Jae-ahn's throat — raw, painful, human.
The world flooded red.
And everything went quiet.
Chapter end.