The city outside refused to sleep, neon bleeding over rooftops like veins of fire.Yet inside Lee Rang's apartment, there was no sound, no life—just the weight of still air pressing against the walls.
He sat at the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, the reverse-faced pocket watch still fresh in his mind. Its image turned over and over like a coin in the dark, each thought heavier than the last.Sleep didn't come. It wouldn't.
Elsewhere…
A dim yellow bulb flickered inside a narrow private room.The walls were bare except for one detail: the faint outline of reinforced steel in the far corner—designed for moments when secrets had to be contained.
At the center, a desk. Empty, save for a single black box.President Han sat behind it, posture straight, expression unreadable.
His hands moved with deliberate care as he unlatched the box. The hinges sighed open to reveal a glint of gold resting in black velvet.
A locket—old, but unblemished. Its delicate chain caught the light like threads of sunlight trapped in metal.Han's fingers brushed the surface, and for a brief second, his eyes softened.
The clasp clicked open.Inside lay half a photograph, edges burnt and curling inward. The missing half was gone forever.
What remained showed the curve of a woman's neck, strands of loose hair brushing bare skin, and the shadow of a smile just out of frame—intimate in a way that lingered like perfume in an empty room.
Han's thumb traced the photo's edge. His voice was low, meant for no one."She never even knew."
Outside, beyond the glass, a figure stood still on the rooftop across the street.No movement. No rush. Just an unbroken stare, as if they had all the time in the world.
From the distance, their features stayed hidden, but the tilt of the head and the faint glint in their eyes made it clear—this was not a passerby.
They didn't step closer.They didn't leave.They simply watched… the kind of watching that meant they'd been here before.
Back inside, Han closed the locket, sealing it back into its velvet bed.The lid clicked shut like a lock turning.
When he looked up again, the window across the street was empty.But the air still felt… observed.
Some truths wait in the dark, patient as predators. And sometimes… the ones who see them coming are the first to fall.