The chamber stank of salt and iron.Chains rattled every time Rang moved, his wrists already raw, the metal cutting into flesh. His chest heaved from the earlier blows, each breath scraping like broken glass. Across from him, Seo-rin slumped against the restraints, her body trembling but her eyes locked on his—clinging to him as if his gaze alone kept her from falling apart.
The steel door groaned.Han stepped inside. Calm. Unhurried. The predator returning to his stage. Two guards followed, dragging another tray of instruments. Hooks. Blades. A bowl of brine that reeked like the sea.
Han's voice was almost soothing."Strength," he murmured. "It is such a fragile mask. Let's test how deep yours runs."
He lifted an iron rod and drove it into Rang's ribs.A wet crack echoed.Rang's body jerked violently, the chains screaming against the wall. Blood spilled from his lips, but he forced the sound back down, his jaw locked, his eyes never leaving Seo-rin's face.
Han struck again, lower this time, and Rang doubled over, coughing red.Still, he whispered hoarsely:"Don't… look at him, Seo-rin. Look at me."
Her breath broke, eyes wide, tears trembling but unshed.
Han chuckled softly."Bravery is useless when it hides the truth."He turned his head—slowly, deliberately—his gaze settling on Seo-rin.
She flinched as the guards hauled her forward, tearing at the sleeve of her dress. Her knees scraped the stone.
Rang thrashed violently, his voice tearing from his chest:"Don't touch her! Han! Come at me—you coward!"
Han ignored him. He studied Seo-rin's face, almost curious, almost tender. Then he whispered, low and venomous:
"You wear her face… but you were never mine."
Seo-rin froze.Rang stilled, confusion cutting deeper than pain.
Han's eyes glittered."Do you know why your father protected you, girl? Because you weren't my child. You were his."
Seo-rin's lips parted. "No…"Her voice was thin, shaking.Rang's blood turned cold. "What… what did you say?"
Han leaned close, his breath hot against Seo-rin's ear."You are his daughter. Lee Hyung's. Which makes you, Rang…" He turned, his smile carving the dark. "…her brother."
The world shattered.Seo-rin's face collapsed in horror, her body trembling as though her veins carried ice.Rang's heart slammed into his ribs, denial ripping from him."No! Don't—you're lying! You're fucking lying!"
But Han only laughed. A hollow, cruel sound that filled the chamber like smoke."Truth doesn't need your belief, Rang. It exists whether you break or not."
Seo-rin's eyes locked with Rang's—tears spilling freely now, her lips trembling as though she wanted to reach for him but couldn't.Rang shook his head violently, chains clanging. "No! Seo-rin, don't listen! He's twisting it!"
Han's hand moved faster than thought.The dagger gleamed under the bulb as he pressed it against her chest."You both wanted a bond," he whispered. "Now watch as it ends."
Steel slid in.Seo-rin gasped, blood blossoming bright against her torn dress. Her knees buckled, but Han held her upright, savoring her collapse. Her trembling hand reached out instinctively—toward Rang.
"Seo-rin!!" Rang's scream ripped through stone, through iron, through the marrow of the earth. He tore against the chains until his wrists split wide, blood spilling down to the floor.
Her fingertips stretched toward his—barely an inch of air kept them apart.Her fingers trembled, brushing the heat of his hand—but found only the cold of empty air, as if the world itself had slid between them.
Her lips moved faintly—no voice, just a shape.Protect him.
Her body slackened.Han let her fall, the dagger dripping crimson.
Silence.Only Rang's ragged breathing, broken sobs grinding through his throat.
"Han!!" he roared, voice cracking, shattering. "Enough of this—tell me! Tell me why you killed my father!"
He was no longer defiant—he was broken, begging, bleeding.
Han wiped the blade calmly, his face unreadable. He crouched, staring into Rang's wild, red eyes."You want the truth?" he whispered. "Find it yourself. But remember… truth destroys those who demand it."
"People ask for truth like children asking for fire—until it burns everything they love."
Then he stood, the faintest smile curving his lips, and raised the bloodied dagger toward Rang.
But before the blade could fall, the room's shadows shifted.A whisper of motion, soft as breath, slit the silence.
The nearest guard stiffened—then crumpled, throat opened clean by a blade that caught the light like lightning. The second turned, reaching for his weapon, but he too collapsed without sound, a dagger buried deep in his chest.
Han spun, startled—not enraged, not yet.
From the gloom, she emerged.A woman—striking, dangerous, her beauty veiled by shadow. A silk-black scarf half covered her face, revealing only sharp eyes that burned like amber in the dark. Her movements were fluid, silent, almost too graceful for this graveyard of stone.
She said nothing. Only a flick of her wrist, and the dagger in her hand gleamed crimson.
Rang stared, half-delirious with grief, half-awed.Han narrowed his eyes. "You again…"
The woman didn't answer. She moved past Han without fear, crouched beside Rang. With swift precision, she cut the chains from his wrists. The iron clattered to the floor, the wounds fresh and bleeding.
Her voice was low, urgent, barely more than a breath:"Disappear. Now."
Rang's lips trembled, confusion burning through rage and sorrow. "Who… who are you?"
But she didn't answer. She only pressed a small device into his bloodied palm. A recorder, its red light blinking faintly."Proof," she whispered. "Enough to damn him."
Footsteps thundered in the distance—boots, shouts, the crash of doors being forced. The police were storming the compound.
The woman glanced toward the entrance, then back at Rang, her voice like ice and smoke:"They'll find what they came for. Not you. Run—and when you're ready, come for the rest."
And with that—she was gone.A blur into the shadows, as though she had never existed.
The steel doors burst open.Armed officers flooded in, their lights cutting through the gloom. Their beams landed on Han—dagger still wet in his hand, Seo-rin's body collapsed at his feet, and his guards dead on the floor.
Han raised his hands slowly, almost serenely, as though surrender were another stage in his performance.But his eyes—his eyes locked on Rang even as police swarmed him. That same faint smile lingered, the smile of a man who had already set the board for the next move.
Officers surrounded Rang too, but before they could reach, the recorder slipped from his hand onto the stone floor. The blinking red light drew their attention. One pressed play.
Screams. Seo-rin's cries. Han's voice, smooth and venomous, confessing, taunting, revealing.The chamber filled with damning echoes.
Every officer froze, faces twisting as the recording painted the truth. Cameras were lifted, photographs taken—Han, the instruments, the body. The evidence was undeniable.
But Rang—Rang was gone.The chains lay open on the floor, blood trailing into darkness where no one saw him leave.
Only the dead, the recorder, and Seo-rin's still body remained.
And the faint trace of perfume in the air—a reminder of the half-hidden woman who had been there, beautiful, deadly, and unseen.
They led Han away in cuffs, but the air smelled not of justice—only of war. And by then Rang knew: the truth had cost him everything.