The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a single bulb swinging precariously from the ceiling. Dust particles floated in the air like memories suspended in time. The walls were marked with scratches and dents, evidence of the countless battles fought within. This room had been the stage for every decision, every betrayal, and every twist of fate that had led to this moment. But now, as Ji-hoon stepped inside, it felt like a tomb, a place where every mistake had been etched into the fabric of the world they'd once known.
Siwan was already there, waiting.
"You're late," Siwan's voice cut through the silence, a mixture of amusement and venom lacing his words. He stood in front of the shattered window, looking out at the cityscape beyond. His silhouette was almost indistinguishable from the night.
Ji-hoon didn't speak at first. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, a mixture of anger and sorrow boiling within him. He had been walking towards this moment for so long, every step a calculation, every breath filled with the promise of confrontation. But now, in the presence of the man who had caused all the pain, he couldn't help but feel a deep, suffocating weight.
"I'm here now," Ji-hoon finally muttered, his voice low but steady. His fingers brushed over the piano keys beside him, the sound of the notes faint in the stillness of the room.
Siwan turned slowly, his eyes gleaming with cold malice. "You're so predictable, Ji-hoon. Always the good guy, always the victim. It's almost pathetic." His words were like knives, each one aimed to wound, to unravel the last vestiges of Ji-hoon's composure.
"I'm not the one who murdered our mother," Ji-hoon replied, his voice breaking the tension in the room like a blade slicing through the silence. There was no more hesitation, no more second-guessing. The truth hung between them, heavy and undeniable. "It's you. It always has been."
For a moment, there was only the sound of their breaths, ragged and heavy, filling the space. The silence was deafening.
Siwan's expression twisted, his jaw tightening in fury. "You don't know anything," he hissed. He stepped closer, his footsteps echoing in the room like thunder, the energy in the air crackling with an intensity that made Ji-hoon's skin prickle. "You think you know me? You think you know what I've been through? You're nothing more than a blind fool pretending to be some kind of hero."
Ji-hoon's heart pounded in his chest. The room was too small, the air too thick, and Siwan—Siwan was just too much to handle.
With a scream of frustration, Siwan lunged forward, his hand connecting with Ji-hoon's chest, pushing him backwards. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, but he managed to stay on his feet. Without hesitation, Ji-hoon shoved back, his fists crashing into Siwan's gut with the force of everything he had been holding inside for so long.
The pain was sharp, but it didn't matter anymore. There was no holding back. There was no more room for fear. This was it. This was the moment.
Siwan staggered but recovered quickly, his face twisted in a sneer of disdain. "Is this what you want, Ji-hoon?" he taunted, his voice dripping with scorn. "To be just like me? To feel what I've felt all these years? You think you can defeat me with your pathetic little punches?"
"Defeat you?" Ji-hoon scoffed, wiping the blood from his lip. "I'm not trying to defeat you. I'm trying to end this. To end the fucking lies."
The two collided again, the sound of their bodies crashing against each other filling the room. Each blow landed with sickening force, the echo of violence reverberating against the walls. Ji-hoon could feel his heart racing, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his every move instinctive, driven by a singular purpose.
Siwan, on the other hand, fought with a dangerous desperation, his blows fueled by years of resentment and twisted anger. He was no longer the cool, calculating man Ji-hoon had once known. He was a beast, driven by rage, his every action a desperate attempt to hold onto the power he had lost.
Ji-hoon's vision blurred as Siwan's fist collided with his face again, sending him stumbling back into the wall. His skull rattled with the force of the impact, but he didn't falter. He wouldn't falter.
He couldn't.
He shoved Siwan away, his hands shaking as he wiped the blood from his nose. The pain was overwhelming, but there was no time for weakness. No time for hesitation.
Siwan smirked, his eyes alight with something darker, something far more terrifying than the rage Ji-hoon had seen before. "You think you're better than me? You think you have the right to stand here and lecture me?" he spat, voice dripping with contempt. "You're just as fucked up as I am, Ji-hoon. You always have been."
Ji-hoon's breath hitched in his throat. There it was again—the twisting, relentless voice that always made him question himself, made him doubt everything he thought he knew. But this time, he wouldn't let it break him.
"No," Ji-hoon said through gritted teeth. "I'm nothing like you. I never was."
The words hung in the air, heavy with finality.
With a growl of frustration, Siwan lunged again, but Ji-hoon was ready. This time, he grabbed Siwan's arm, twisting it behind his back with a force that made Siwan gasp in pain. The sound of bones cracking filled the room, sharp and satisfying, as Ji-hoon forced him to the ground.
Siwan's eyes flashed with fury, but there was something else there too. Fear. Ji-hoon saw it in the way Siwan's chest heaved with each desperate breath, in the way his eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape.
But there was no escape.
Ji-hoon knelt beside him, their faces inches apart. "This is where it ends," Ji-hoon whispered, the weight of his words hanging heavy between them. "You can't run anymore."
Siwan's eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and horror. "You won't kill me," he spat, though there was a tremor in his voice. "You're not capable of it. You're too weak."
Ji-hoon's grip tightened, his hand shaking with the rage that had been building inside him for so long. He could feel his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, the adrenaline still surging through his veins. But as he looked down at Siwan—his brother, his tormentor, the man who had killed their mother—the words that came from his lips were simple, yet filled with finality.
"I don't need to kill you," Ji-hoon said quietly. "You've already destroyed yourself."
And with that, he released Siwan's arm, allowing the man to collapse to the floor in a heap. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of both of them breathing heavily, the air thick with tension and the remnants of violence.
But Ji-hoon knew, deep in his bones, that this was the end. The fight was over.
Ji-hoon didn't even have time to breathe before Siwan roared and charged again, tackling him so hard they both crashed into the upright piano at the center of the room. The keys howled under the impact, a discordant scream of sound as the entire instrument shuddered and tipped. Ji-hoon's spine slammed into the wood, knocking the wind from his lungs, but he didn't let go. He grabbed Siwan by the collar and dragged him sideways, slamming them both into the cracked wall behind the piano.
"Don't you dare pretend you're the victim," Ji-hoon spat, voice hoarse and raw. "You killed her. You ruined us. You broke everything."
Siwan laughed, a sick, hollow sound. "And yet you're still trying to be the hero. News flash—no one claps for martyrs. Especially the blind ones."
Ji-hoon drove his knee into Siwan's ribs, hard enough to hear something crack. Siwan cried out, the sound feral, but twisted and used the momentum to elbow Ji-hoon across the jaw. Ji-hoon reeled back, spitting blood, but kept his footing. He was done playing defensive. He was done hoping for explanations.
The two crashed again like storms. Fists met ribs, elbows met faces. The violence wasn't elegant or choreographed—it was raw and brutal, born of years of buried agony and truths neither had the courage to face until now. Ji-hoon's fingers found Siwan's throat, pinning him to the wall, but Siwan headbutted him so hard his ears rang, and they both went down in a heap.
Dust rose around them like ash. The air reeked of sweat, blood, and the stale scent of time long gone. The bulb above flickered with each tremor of the floorboards, like the room itself was alive and watching.
Siwan straddled him now, fists pounding down like hammers. "You think you know what justice is?" he snarled between punches. "You don't know what it's like to be invisible in your own home. You don't know what it's like to hear her whisper your name like it's a mistake!"
Ji-hoon caught his wrists mid-swing, his knuckles swollen and bleeding. "And that's why you killed her?" he growled, using every ounce of strength left to roll them over. "Because she didn't love you loud enough?"
Siwan twisted violently beneath him, knees coming up to push Ji-hoon off. Ji-hoon flew back, crashing against a broken chair. Splinters cut through his shirt and into his shoulder, but he barely noticed. He was back on his feet in seconds.
"You killed her because you couldn't handle being second. You destroyed her because you weren't strong enough to be ignored!"
Siwan lunged again, but this time Ji-hoon was faster. He sidestepped, grabbed Siwan's arm, and swung him directly into the side of the overturned piano. The edge caught Siwan in the ribs and he crumpled with a sharp gasp, clutching his side. Ji-hoon didn't wait. He followed with a kick to the stomach, then another to the shoulder, driving him back.
Blood smeared across the floor as Siwan tried to crawl away, panting and spitting curses. But Ji-hoon stalked after him, boots crunching glass underfoot.
"All this time you thought you were the one in control," Ji-hoon hissed. "Every time you pulled a string, every time you tried to manipulate me or hurt the people I cared about—was it all just to prove something to yourself? That you mattered?"
"You don't understand—" Siwan wheezed.
"Then make me!" Ji-hoon shouted, grabbing Siwan by the collar and hauling him to his feet. "Explain it! Say it! Say why you killed our mother!"
Siwan's face twisted. Blood dripped from his nose, his lip was split, and one eye was nearly swollen shut. But he smiled—no, sneered.
"Because she looked at you like you were her world," Siwan said. "And I was just a shadow on the wall."
Ji-hoon froze.
There it was. The truth, raw and venomous.
"She only ever played lullabies for you," Siwan went on, voice cracking. "She only sang to you when she thought I couldn't hear. I'd stand in the hallway like a ghost while she told you that you were special, that your music would save the world. But mine? Mine was just noise to her. A mistake."
"You were her son," Ji-hoon whispered, his voice shaking. "She loved you."
"Not enough!" Siwan bellowed, and drove his head into Ji-hoon's chest. The move sent them both stumbling back into a shelf, which collapsed in a crash of old sheet music and broken memories. They tumbled over it, tangled again in limbs and rage.
Ji-hoon punched Siwan in the mouth, then again, and again. The sound of fist hitting bone echoed like gunshots in the small space. His knuckles were raw, his shoulder throbbed, but he couldn't stop. Not until it was done.
Siwan finally went still, blinking through swollen eyes. "Do it," he gasped. "You've wanted to for years. Kill me."
Ji-hoon raised his fist one more time. His breathing came in harsh gasps. The room tilted around him. Every muscle screamed.
But he didn't strike.
"No," Ji-hoon breathed, shaking. "That's what you want. For me to become like you."
He shoved Siwan back, hard. Siwan slumped against the wreckage, coughing and laughing bitterly.
"You think this is justice?" he spat blood onto the floor. "This isn't justice. It's just pain rearranged."
Ji-hoon staggered to the wall, leaning heavily. He felt like collapsing. His body begged him to. But something deeper held him upright—something stronger than fury. The memory of his mother's voice. The warmth in her lullabies. The way she used to brush his hair back after lessons and whisper, "My Ji-hoon. The world will be cruel, but you must never let it change who you are."
"I'm turning you in," Ji-hoon said at last, voice barely above a whisper. "You'll answer for what you did."
Siwan's face twisted in disgust. "You think prison will fix me?"
"No," Ji-hoon said, closing his eyes. "But it'll stop you from hurting anyone else."
Outside, sirens wailed, drawing closer.
The room had fallen into chaos, but for the first time in years, Ji-hoon felt clarity cut through the noise.
This was the room where everything went wrong.
And now it would be the place where it ended.