The city had never felt this quiet.
Rang walked without seeing, his steps dragging through alleys where shadows stretched like open graves. The rain had stopped hours ago, but its memory still clung to his clothes, mixing with the dried stains of blood that refused to wash away. His wrists burned raw from the chains, his chest throbbed with every breath, yet none of it hurt more than the empty space beside him.
Seo-rin.
Her name echoed inside him like glass shattering in an endless chamber. Every corner he turned, he half-expected her figure—half-smile, half-frown—watching him the way she always did. But only silence met him, heavy and choking, pressing down until he almost wished the torture had killed him too.
He stopped under a flickering streetlamp, his body trembling. From his pocket, he pulled the recorder Wan had forced into his hand. The red light still blinked. He pressed play.
Her screams filled the night. His own roars. And Han's voice—calm, venomous, undeniable.
Rang dropped to his knees, the device shaking in his grip. Proof… but of what? Proof that Seo-rin's last breath was soaked in his helplessness? Proof that his father's death was still a riddle chained in Han's cruelty?
He hurled the recorder against the wall. It cracked but didn't die—still whispering Han's laughter through broken static. Rang clutched his head, nails digging into his scalp, as if he could claw the sound out.
When dawn came, he was already walking again. Toward the one place he swore he'd never go.
The prison gates clanged shut behind him.
Cold corridors swallowed him whole as guards led him deeper, past cells that stank of rust and despair. Finally, a heavy door opened into the visitation chamber.
Han sat there. Hands folded. Back straight. A faint smile curved his lips as though he'd been expecting this moment all along.
"Rang," he said softly, as though addressing a son. "You look well. For someone carrying two ghosts."
Rang slammed his fists onto the table, the sound echoing like thunder."Don't—say her name. Don't pretend you know what you've done to me."
Han's smile never wavered. He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper."You want your father's truth, don't you? That's why you came. That's why you'll keep coming."
From his prison uniform, Han drew out something small, metallic. The guards tensed, but he merely set it on the table and slid it forward.
A chain. Old, worn. The engraving half-faded but still legible.LEE HYUNG.
Rang's breath caught. His father's name.
Han's eyes glittered."You already hold Seo-rin's. Now you hold his. But there is another, Rang. One more chain. And when you find it…" He leaned back, smile widening. "…you'll know why blood had to be spilled."
Rang snatched the chain, his hands trembling. "Where? Where's the last one?"
Han only closed his eyes, serene, as though retreating into prayer."Find it yourself. The dead don't answer questions—they leave puzzles. And you, Rang… you were born to solve them."
The guards moved to escort him out, but Rang resisted, snarling like a cornered animal."You think this ends with your riddles? No, Han. When I come back—when I know everything—I'll make sure you bleed like she did."
Han opened his eyes at that, his smile thinning into something sharper."Then hurry, boy. Because truth waits for no one. And it always takes more than it gives."
Outside the prison, the storm had returned.Rang stood in the rain, the two chains clutched in his fist—Seo-rin's and his father's. Metal cut into his skin, drawing blood.
Two pieces of a puzzle. One missing.And the clock inside his pocket ticked backward, whispering its haunting rhythm.
Don't trust her.
Rang lifted his head, eyes burning through the rain.For the first time, his grief hardened into something colder.
Not sorrow.Not rage.But resolve.