It seeped across the cracked tiles like a living thing, curling around the edges of broken glass and the fallen chair, staining everything it touched. The metallic smell rose thick in the air, burning their throats, clinging to their clothes, wrapping the room in fear.
Jaeahn stood in the middle of it — swaying — her eyes wide, unfocused.
Her mother's voice trembled first, then hardened.
"Who… who are you talking to?"
The words sounded distant, like they were echoing from the bottom of a tunnel. Jaeahn blinked, trying to steady the world, but everything spun, blurred, tilted.
Her lips shook?
"Wh-why… why… why…?" she whispered, breath breaking into fragments. "Are you calling him Jihu?"
Her mother's eyes darkened.
"Open your eyes," she said, each word sharp. "He isn't Jihu. He is Do Hwan."
Something cracked inside Jaeahn.
For a moment, she simply stared — like she didn't understand the language anymore. Then she shook her head slowly, almost gently, as if refusing a nightmare.
"No… no, that's wrong…"
Her voice was soft, childlike.
"Jihu is here. He came back. He's right here. Do Hwan is… on the left side."
But there was no one standing there.
The lie that had protected her for so long began to crumble.
Her vision dimmed at the edges. Blood dripped from her side, running warm down her dress, but she hardly noticed. Pain didn't matter. Reality did not matter.
Only Jihu mattered.
Jongsuk moved first.
He sprinted forward, reaching her just as her body tilted backward. His arms wrapped around her, steady but shaking. He could feel how cold she already was.
"Let— let her go," he murmured, though he wasn't sure who he was talking to. Maybe fate. Maybe grief. Maybe the ghost inside her mind. "Let Jihu go, Jaeahn. Please… let him go."
She stared at him, confused — hurt — betrayed.
"Why are you saying that? Jihu isn't here? Why… why are you lying?"
His throat tightened.
"Because I need you to live."
He swallowed.
"Jaeahn, look. It's Do Hwan."
Her head moved side to side, harder now, panic replacing confusion
.
"No. No. No! That's Jihu! That's my brother. He came back. I saw him. I talked to him. He hugged me."
Her voice broke completely.
"He promised he wouldn't leave me."
Her world fractured like shattered glass.
Because if Jihu wasn't there…
Then she had been alone.
And she didn't know how to survive alone anymore.
Flashback
The memory slammed into her — vivid, painful, uncontrollable.
That day.
That beating.
Her mother screaming, hitting, dragging her across the floor while Jongsuk shouted and Do Hwan tried to pull them apart.
Later, sirens
.
Hospital lights.
Cold sheets.
The doctor's voice had been calm, too calm.
"It isn't only physical," he said softly. "Trauma is drowning her. When reality becomes unbearable, the mind sometimes rewrites it.
Jongsuk clenched his fists.
"Rewrites?"
The doctor nodded.
"She may begin to imagine people who are gone. Build stories that feel real. Hallucinations aren't weakness — they are the mind trying to protect what's left of the heart."
Hallucinations.
Hope disguised as miracles.
Love pretending to still exist.
From that moment forward, Jaeahn stopped seeing emptiness.
Instead, she saw Jihu.
Every time Eunwoo walked beside Do Hwan, her brain painted Jihu into the scene. Conversations she heard halfway became full stories in her imagination. A laugh, a silhouette, a shadow — all transformed into him.
And when someone saved Eunwoo from jumping that night…
She saw Jihu.
But it had always — always — been Jongsuk.
Her memories had become a dream stitched together by grief.
Back to the present
Blood soaked through her hands as she pressed them against her wound. Still, she forced herself upright again, teeth clenched, body trembling.
Her mother exploded.
"Look!" she shouted, voice wild with rage and fear. "He isn't here! You killed him. You! You're the reason he died!"
The words stabbed deeper than any knife.
Jaeahn froze.
Her lungs refused to work. The room swayed again, heavier, darker, colder. Somewhere distant, she heard glass crunch beneath someone's shoes.
Jongsuk's anger finally snapped.
"Enough!" he roared. "Shut up!"
He grabbed Jaeahn's face gently but firmly, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Jaeahn. Stay with me. Look only at me. You're safe. We're right here. I won't let anything happen to you."
Her chest heaved.
"I'm… mental, right?" The question left her in a whisper, terrified and ashamed. "I'm mentally ill…"
Tears blurred his vision.
"No," he said, voice shaking. "You're hurt. You're exhausted. You've survived too much. That's all. None of this is your fault."
She looked at everyone around her — Do Hwan, Eunwoo, the broken room, the blood.
"So everyone knew…?"
Her voice cracked.
"And still stayed by me?"
She took slow, painful steps toward Do Hwan, one hand pressed tightly against her bleeding side. Every movement left a trail of red.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Her knees buckled.
The world tilted.
She fell — but Jongsuk caught her again, dropping to his knees and pulling her close. Her fingers trembled as they clung to his shirt.
"Please," she whispered, voice fading. "Don't leave me. If you leave too… I won't survive. I won't."
His heart shattered.
He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead — soft, steady, promising.
"I won't," he said quietly. "Not in this lifetime."
But danger wasn't finished.
Her mother staggered backward, eyes wild, hands shaking. She reached behind a crate, fingers closing around something cold and heavy.
A gun.
"Stay where you are!" she screamed, pointing it straight at them. "No one moves!"
The walls seemed to shrink.
Do Hwan froze.
Eunwoo swallowed hard.
Jaeahn's head slumped against Jongsuk's shoulder, her body limp, her face growing pale.
"She's unconscious!" Do Hwan shouted. "She needs help now!"
"Let her die!" her mother shrieked. "Let her pay for everything she destroyed!"
Jongsuk's voice cracked.
"If it's us you want — fine! But let Jaeahn go. Please. She's bleeding too much. She'll die!"
Silence stretched tight like a wire.
The gun shifted toward Do Hwan.
He tried distracting her, talking calmly, slowly — but it didn't matter. Her finger trembled on the trigger.
Time slowed.
A heartbeat.
Another.
Then—
The gun exploded.
The sound tore through the room, sharp and merciless.
A flash.
A scream.
Blood splattered the floor again.
And the world went silent.
End of chapter.