Ji-hoon sat in the dim light of his apartment, the soft sound of raindrops tapping against the window. The city outside seemed distant, far away, as if it existed in another world entirely. Inside, the air was heavy, thick with the memories of everything that had happened—everything he had lost, everything that had been ripped away from him. The storm outside seemed to reflect the chaos within him, the turmoil that had taken root in his soul. He could feel the weight of it all—the guilt, the anger, the grief—but most of all, he felt the overwhelming, burning desire for revenge.
Siwan had taken everything from him. His mother. His innocence. His peace. He had framed Ji-hoon for a crime he didn't commit, manipulated him, and ruined his life. Every day, Ji-hoon felt the sting of his loss, the cold void that his mother's death had left behind. But more than that, he felt the rage—an inferno inside him that refused to die, a fire that only grew stronger as the days passed.
It was late, far past midnight, but Ji-hoon wasn't tired. He had long since stopped pretending that sleep could offer any respite from the storm raging inside him. Instead, he had been planning. Planning the only way he could think to make Siwan pay for what he had done.
The plan had been building in his mind for days, slowly taking shape, refining itself as his hatred festered. Poison. It was the perfect weapon. Subtle. Deadly. And, most importantly, it would ensure that Siwan wouldn't even know what hit him until it was too late.
Ji-hoon's fingers drummed idly on the table, the steady rhythm matching the pulse in his chest. He was so close now, so close to making Siwan feel the pain he had caused. Ji-hoon had spent hours researching poisons—different kinds, how they worked, how they could be administered without detection. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly how to make this work. He knew what he had to do.
His eyes moved to the small vial on the table in front of him. It was a simple bottle, unassuming, but the contents were anything but. It was the poison he had chosen—slow-acting, odorless, tasteless. A substance that would gradually weaken Siwan, slowly taking him apart from the inside without him even realizing. The idea of Siwan suffering, of him squirming in the same helplessness Ji-hoon had felt, was a dark pleasure to Ji-hoon. It was justice. It was revenge.
The poison would be slipped into Siwan's food, his drink. He had spent time thinking about how to get close to him, how to make it seem casual, natural. Ji-hoon knew that Siwan trusted him. That trust was his greatest weapon. All he needed to do was wait for the right moment.
The plan was simple, but the execution would take patience. He would invite Siwan over for dinner, under the pretense of reconciliation. It would be the perfect opportunity to slip the poison into his food, disguised in something Siwan wouldn't think twice about. Maybe a drink—one of the bottles of wine that Ji-hoon kept stocked, a gift for when he invited people over. He'd offer Siwan a glass, and in that moment, Ji-hoon would make sure he drank it.
The thought made Ji-hoon's hands shake, not with fear but with anticipation. He knew he was crossing a line—something irreversible. But it was a line he had already crossed in his mind, long before tonight. The moment Siwan had taken his mother's life, that line had been drawn. This was just the final step in making things right.
The rain outside had intensified, its rhythm growing faster, more frantic, as if mirroring the chaos inside Ji-hoon's mind. His heart raced, and his hands, despite their shaking, were steady as he examined the vial again. The poison was the kind that would take time to act—he'd have to make sure Siwan ate enough, drank enough for it to have the desired effect.
Ji-hoon stood up, walking over to the small cupboard where he kept his wine. He took out a bottle, the glass cool and smooth in his hand. It would be easy, almost too easy. He could already imagine Siwan sitting across from him at the table, smiling, talking like everything was fine. But it wouldn't be fine. It would never be fine again.
As Ji-hoon carefully uncorked the bottle, his mind flashed back to the moments he had shared with his mother. He remembered her voice, soft and comforting, the way she had always made him feel safe. He could still hear her laughter, a sound that now felt like a distant memory, one that would never be repeated. His fingers tightened around the wine bottle, the cork now removed, and he realized with a start that he was trembling—not from fear but from anger.
The anger surged through him again, a wave that crashed over him and made his stomach turn. Siwan's face flashed before his eyes, the smug expression he wore whenever he thought he was untouchable, whenever he thought he had won. Ji-hoon had tried to make sense of it all, tried to understand why Siwan had done what he did. But he couldn't. There was no explanation. It was just cruelty. Pure, unadulterated cruelty.
Pouring the wine into two glasses, Ji-hoon kept his movements deliberate, controlled. He could almost hear the sound of Siwan's voice, mocking him, daring him to do something. The thought made him clench his jaw in frustration, but he didn't let it stop him. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get the best of him now. Not when he was so close.
He took the vial of poison and held it carefully, making sure not to spill a single drop. He could almost taste the bitter satisfaction in his mouth as he dropped the poison into Siwan's glass. The liquid swirled in the wine, invisible to the naked eye, blending perfectly. Ji-hoon knew Siwan would never suspect a thing.
Now, all that was left was to wait. He set the glass down on the table, standing back for a moment as he studied the wine, its dark color almost mocking him. This would be it. The moment he had been waiting for, the moment everything would be made right. Siwan would feel what Ji-hoon had felt—betrayal, loss, and the helplessness of being left behind.
As he waited, the storm outside continued to rage, the wind howling in the distance. Ji-hoon's mind was calm now, his thoughts sharp and clear. This was his plan, his justice. And nothing, no one, would stand in his way.
The poison would work. And when it did, Siwan would finally know what it felt like to lose everything.
Ji-hoon stared at the glass in front of him, the wine swirling gently in its base. The rain outside continued to pour relentlessly, tapping against the windowpane with an almost rhythmic insistence, as if urging him forward, as if calling for the finality of what he had prepared. He could feel the tension coiling in his chest, the anticipation of what was about to unfold. Every step had led to this moment, and there would be no turning back once it was done.
The poison, now invisible within the deep red of the wine, lay there silently, waiting to do its work. Ji-hoon could almost feel its presence, like a silent accomplice in his plan. The poison would work its magic slowly, methodically—he knew that. It would start subtly, with a slight discomfort in Siwan's stomach, then build up, feeding on his strength, draining him bit by bit. The methodical approach of it appealed to Ji-hoon. It would be almost poetic—Siwan, completely unaware, sipping casually from the glass while the venom coursed through his veins.
Ji-hoon paced back and forth across the small room, his mind whirling with memories of his mother. He could hear her soft voice, her laughter, the way she used to hum a tune while preparing meals in the kitchen. The warmth of her embrace. Her scent. All of it was gone now, lost in the wake of Siwan's actions. It wasn't fair. None of it had been fair. She hadn't deserved what happened to her, and neither had he.
But Siwan deserved this. Ji-hoon's grip on the wine glass tightened as he stood in front of it, his reflection faintly visible in the polished surface. It wasn't just revenge anymore. It was justice. Siwan had stolen from him in ways that couldn't be measured, and now it was time to return the favor.
The quiet murmur of the storm outside seemed to fill the room as Ji-hoon's mind settled on the final steps. His plan was flawless, but the timing had to be perfect. He'd called Siwan, casually, inviting him over under the guise of having a simple dinner, a civil conversation. The idea was to maintain a sense of normalcy, to disarm Siwan before the inevitable. Siwan would think nothing of it. He'd come in, sit down, and drink the wine. By the time he realized what was happening, it would be too late. Ji-hoon smiled grimly at the thought.
But as he waited, doubts crept into his mind. Was he really ready for this? Was this the right thing to do? The questions burned, but Ji-hoon quickly brushed them aside. Siwan didn't deserve mercy. There was no room for hesitation. The pain his mother had gone through, the agony Ji-hoon had endured—none of it would ever be justified unless Siwan felt it too.
A knock at the door shattered the silence. Ji-hoon's heart skipped a beat. It was him. Siwan.
Ji-hoon composed himself, his hands now steady, betraying no sign of the storm raging inside. He crossed the room and opened the door, offering a small, polite smile as he looked into Siwan's eyes. The man looked unchanged, his usual arrogant confidence emanating from him like a shield. But Ji-hoon saw something else—something hidden behind the mask. He saw the guilt, the subtle nervousness that Siwan tried to bury beneath his smooth exterior. He didn't know it, but Ji-hoon could feel the unease radiating off of him.
"Come in," Ji-hoon said, his voice calm, almost detached. "I've set the table."
Siwan smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Thanks, Ji-hoon. I wasn't sure if you were serious about this dinner."
"I am," Ji-hoon replied, stepping aside to let him in. The tension in the air was palpable, but neither of them acknowledged it.
Siwan walked in and made his way to the dining room, glancing over his shoulder at Ji-hoon as if sizing him up. There was something about the way Siwan looked at him that made Ji-hoon's blood boil. He was calm, collected—too calm, too confident. Like he had nothing to fear. But he was wrong.
As Siwan took his seat at the table, Ji-hoon poured the wine, his movements precise, deliberate. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes now. The wine filled the glass slowly, the deep red liquid sloshing gently against the sides, reflecting the soft light in the room. He handed the glass to Siwan, his fingers brushing against his just briefly, almost imperceptibly.
Siwan accepted the glass with a casual smile. "You've been quiet lately," he remarked, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip from his glass. "What's going on, Ji-hoon? You seem different."
Ji-hoon's lips curved into a cold, empty smile. "Nothing's different. Just needed some time to think."
Siwan took another sip, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed Ji-hoon. The conversation drifted on, the usual small talk filling the gaps between them. But Ji-hoon couldn't focus on the words. He watched Siwan carefully, his mind already calculating how long it would take for the poison to start taking effect.
Minutes passed, but to Ji-hoon, it felt like hours. The room was eerily quiet except for the occasional clink of silverware and the quiet hum of the storm outside. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the anticipation building as he waited for the inevitable.
Then, Siwan suddenly stopped, his hand frozen midair as he reached for another bite. His eyes flickered, a slight tremor in his fingers, before he slowly put the fork back down. His face contorted in confusion.
Ji-hoon's heart skipped a beat. Was it starting?
Siwan's breath grew shallow, his face paling slightly as he leaned forward, eyes scanning the table in front of him. Ji-hoon could see it now—the subtle change, the beginning of the poison's work. Siwan had no idea what was happening, but Ji-hoon knew.
"What's wrong?" Ji-hoon asked, his voice smooth, a trace of concern in his tone.
Siwan shook his head, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "I don't feel right. I think... I think I've had too much to drink." He stood abruptly, stumbling slightly as he gripped the edge of the table.
Ji-hoon's gaze remained steady, his face the picture of calm, but inside, the satisfaction surged through him. Siwan was finally feeling it. He was finally starting to pay for what he had done.
"Sit down," Ji-hoon said, his voice low, almost soothing. "You should relax. You'll feel better soon."
Siwan staggered back to his seat, his breathing quickening, his face flushed with confusion and pain. Ji-hoon watched, the thrill of seeing Siwan slowly begin to unravel almost too much to bear. The poison was working. And soon, Siwan would understand what it felt like to be helpless, to be utterly out of control. It was only a matter of time before he realized that this was no accident.
Ji-hoon stayed silent, waiting as the poison did its work.