The storm had passed, but the night wasn't calm.Lee Rang and Seo-rin sat in silence, their clothes still damp, their skin carrying the chill of rain. The faint hum of the city outside filtered through the broken rhythm of their breaths.
Seo-rin's eyes kept drifting toward him—toward the man who had pulled her from chaos more than once, who stood between her and the kind of darkness she had long since accepted as fate.
She finally whispered, almost to herself:"Why you, Rang? Why is it always you?"
Rang didn't answer. He only looked at her, as though searching for something in her face he didn't have the courage to name.
Hours later, their path led to the abandoned underground line, the one the city had sealed years ago. Rust clung to the rails, water dripped endlessly from unseen cracks, and the stale air pressed down like a hand on their lungs.
That was when they heard it.Footsteps.
Three shadows emerged from the tunnel's mouth—masked men, the same faceless watchers who had haunted Rang's nights.
Their voices carried, cold and deliberate:
"The boss wonders why you still breathe, Rang. Perhaps tonight we fix that."
Steel glinted in the faint light.Seo-rin's hand tightened around Rang's sleeve, but he didn't flinch.
Before the first blade could fall, the sound of a pipe striking metal rang out sharp and sudden. A figure—blurred, swift—moved through the shadows, scattering the attackers with brutal precision.
By the time the dust settled, the masked men were gone, retreating back into the dark.And the mysterious ally had vanished just as quickly.
Seo-rin's wide eyes searched the tunnel. "Who was that?"
Rang shook his head. He didn't know.
They found themselves in a forgotten storage room above an old bar, lit only by a weak bulb and the leftover glow of the storm outside.
Seo-rin wrapped herself in a thin blanket, her wet hair falling loose across her shoulders. The quiet between them felt fragile again, but heavier this time—like both of them carried questions they weren't ready to ask.
She finally broke the silence."You could've let me die tonight. Why didn't you?"
Rang leaned against the wall, jaw tight."I already told you. Watching you fall… feels worse than falling myself."
Her breath caught, but she turned away quickly, as though afraid of what he might see in her eyes.
For a moment, the storm outside didn't matter.For a moment, there was only them.
President Han sat at his wide mahogany desk, the light of a single lamp throwing long shadows across his face. His hands rested on a folder stamped in stark black letters.
He opened it slowly, revealing photographs clipped inside. Experiments. Records. Faces blurred, but one detail always present—an insignia shaped like a spiral, inked on every page.
Next to the file lay a keychain.Cold, metallic.
404 engraved.And beneath it—a name.
Lee Rang.
Han's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile."Soon," he murmured.
The lamp flickered once, and the room sank back into silence.
"The chain he carried wasn't just metal—it was the thread that would strangle him."