"Huff... Huff... Huff..."
Beom-seok's ragged breaths echoed inside the car, the sound sharp in the silence.
His chest rose and fell unevenly as though he couldn't catch enough air.
The smell of gasoline and scorched tires clung to him, but what weighed heavier was the truth he couldn't shake.
Mi-kyong had just killed someone... Because of him.
Did that even make sense?
Her hands remained steady on the wheel, shifting gears with a smoothness that felt surreal, almost practiced.
She pressed her foot down and the engine roared, the car leaping forward before she swerved and brought it to a halt in front of a broken, once-familiar store where they sold stolen items.
"Here," she said simply, handing him a mask.
Her tone was calm, casual even, as if nothing unusual had just taken place.
Beom-seok took it without speaking, his fingers trembling.
He tucked it away, moving in rhythm with her. His body followed, but his mind lagged far behind.
