(Seojoon's POV )
The park looked the same as it always did.
Quiet. Soft sunlight filtering through trembling leaves.
Children laughing somewhere in the distance.
But something inside me was different today.
I wasn't trembling.
I wasn't waiting.
I wasn't afraid.
I was done.
His voice came soft, smooth — the voice of a man who believed he could not be touched.
"Seojoon," he greeted, barely glancing at me.
"Not giving up, eh? Here to suffer more?"
I walked toward him slowly.
I didn't blink.
I didn't look away.
"No," I said.
"I'm here to end it."
His eyebrow lifted, amused.
"Oh?"
I stopped just a few feet away.
Close enough for him to see everything in my eyes.
"You're a fraud," I said quietly.
His smile remained.
"You want to speak louder?" he asked, the mockery gentle, practiced, poisonous.
So I did.
"You're a fraud, Taejun," I said, voice steady.
"Your company, your image, your perfect life—everything built on lies."
His smile wavered.
I continued.
"You cheat your business partners. You forge investor reports. You launder money through private accounts. You beat your spouse. You abuse employees. You threaten and silence people who can't fight back."
My voice didn't tremble.
"Watch your mouth," he warned, tone dropping.
I stepped closer.
"No," I said softly. "You watch yours."
His jaw tightened.
"You think anyone will believe you?" he asked, voice low.
"Yes," I replied.
"Because I have proof."
His eyes widened—just barely.
And that was my victory.
"Minji told you," he said quietly.
So quiet it was almost a breath.
"No," I answered.
And I meant it.
"I watched you. I learned from you. I waited."
My voice sharpened.
"While you thought I was nothing, I memorized every crack in your empire."
His expression twisted.
"You think you've won?" he asked, voice shaking with a hidden rage.
"I haven't won," I said, stepping even closer—
We were inches apart now.
"But I'm done losing."
His hand shot out, grabbing the collar of my shirt.
But I didn't flinch.
Not anymore.
"You want to hit me?" I said quietly.
"Do it."
His grip tightened.
"You want to silence me again?"
I leaned forward, eyes steady.
"Do it."
"You coward," he hissed.
"No," I whispered back.
"You are."
His other hand curled into a fist—
and the first hit came.
Minji watched from a distance.
Phone raised.
Recording.
No words.
No gasps.
No hesitation.
Her hand didn't shake once.
Taejun hit me again.
Harder.
Across the jaw.
I tasted iron.
People had turned.
A small crowd had begun to form—
some filming, some whispering, some frozen.
I kept my eyes on him the whole time.
"You can hit me," I said, voice hoarse but steady.
"You can break me again.
You can try to erase me again."
He grabbed my shirt again, pulling me forward.
"I won't go silent this time."
His fist froze mid-air.
And that—
that was the first moment he realized
he was losing.
The world tilted for a moment.
My cheek burned.
My ears rang.
But I stayed standing.
Taejun, on the other hand—
He didn't look calm anymore.
His hair was slightly out of place.
His breathing is uneven.
His eyes are sharp with something feral and ugly.
"So this is what you call strength?" he spat, grabbing my shirt again.
"Running your mouth in public like some stray dog looking for scraps?"
I let out a slow, shaky breath.
My voice came out quiet—but it carried.
"I stopped begging a long time ago."
His grip tightened enough that my collarbone ached.
"You think people will take your side?" he sneered.
"You? The pathetic little toy I used up and threw away?"
I stared into his eyes.
No fear.
Not anymore.
"That's not what they'll see," I said.
His brows furrowed.
"They'll see you," I continued.
"A grown man beating someone smaller than him.
In a park.
In broad daylight.
Because you couldn't control him anymore."
A small gasp rippled through the onlookers.
He noticed.
For the first time—
he realized there were witnesses.
He turned, glare sweeping the small crowd.
"What are you looking at?" he barked.
"This is none of your business—"
A teenage girl lifted her phone higher.
"No, it kinda is," she said plainly.
Voices murmured:
"Is he hitting him—?"
"Should someone call—?"
"Record, record—"
Taejun spun back toward me, fury blazing.
"You wanted attention?" he snarled.
"Fine."
His fist came down again—
harder, faster.
My vision flashed white.
Pain shot through my ribs.
I stumbled, knees buckling.
I heard Minji's voice for the first time — low, controlled, deadly calm.
"Taejun. Stop."
He didn't.
She repeated it — louder, sharper.
"Taejun. Stop."
He whirled on her, eyes wild.
"You—"
His voice cracked with rage.
"You betrayed me."
Minji didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
"I stayed silent," she answered.
"That's not betrayal. That's just me choosing not to lie for you anymore."
Taejun's face twisted.
Something inside him snapped—audibly.
"You think you can talk back to me? After everything I did for you? After everything I gave you?"
Minji looked at him like he was something she had already buried.
"You didn't give me anything," she said quietly.
"You just took."
His breath faltered.
And that short silence—
that one beat of stillness—
was the moment his power cracked.
I wiped blood from my lip, making sure my voice carried across the park.
"You're done, Taejun."
He turned toward me—
—and that's when I said it.
The words I had swallowed for years.
The ones that burned on the way out.
"You don't scare me anymore."
His face turned red.
His teeth clenched.
His entire arm drew back—ready to strike again.
But this time—
I didn't stay still.
I lifted my chin and said, clear and sharp:
"Go ahead. Show them what you really are."
A monster.
A coward.
A tyrant in a nice suit.
The punch landed—
but this time
Everyone was watching.
Phones up.
Eyes wide.
Mouths open.
And Minji—
Her phone never wavered.
Not once.
His fist collided with my jaw again.
For a second — everything went silent.
Not quiet.
Silent.
Like the world paused to watch.
Then the sound rushed back.
Gasps.
A child crying.
Someone yelling, "Call the police!"
My knees trembled, but I didn't hit the ground this time.
I refused.
Taejun stood in front of me, chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead.
His expensive suit looked wrong on him now — like something rotten wrapped in silk.
I spit blood onto the pavement.
The red stained the concrete between us.
Minji's phone was still raised — steady, unwavering.
"Taejun," she said softly, almost pitying.
"You should stop now."
He looked at her like she had just stabbed him.
"Put the phone down," he growled.
Minji didn't blink.
"If you come near me, I'll scream."
For a moment, he hesitated.
Just a moment.
But it was enough.
Whispers spread through the crowd:
"Is that Kang Taejun… from xxxx Group?"
"He's hitting him — it's all on camera…"
"He's screwed."
Taejun heard it.
He heard every word.
His power — the thing he worshipped — began to collapse right in front of him.
"You think this will ruin me?" he spat, voice cracking.
"You think anyone will believe you and not me?"
My voice came out hoarse, broken, but clear:
"They don't have to believe me."
I pointed at the phones.
At the eyes.
At the world.
"They only have to see you."
And they had.
Something snapped.
Not a sound — a feeling.
The moment when a predator realizes everyone finally sees the blood on its teeth.
Taejun's rage drained.
His face went pale.
He took one step back.
Just one.
Suddenly —
sirens.
Their sound cut through the air like a blade.
Taejun's eyes widened.
He looked at me like a wolf cornered for the first time in its life.
"You…" he whispered.
"You planned this."
I smiled — even though my lip was split, even though it hurt like hell.
I smiled.
"No," I said.
"You did this to yourself."
Two police cars pulled up.
Doors slammed.
Officers rushed forward.
"Kang Taejun!" one shouted.
"Step back! Hands visible!"
The crowd parted like they were glad to be out of his way.
Taejun froze—
not because of the police.
But because Minji finally lowered her phone.
Her thumb pressed.
Just once.
Uploaded.
When she looked at him, there was no fear.
Just finality.
"It's over," she whispered.
He shook his head slowly.
Like he could rewind this moment if he denied it hard enough.
"Minji…"
His voice cracked.
Almost pleading.
Almost human.
But she stepped back from him.
Like he was poison.
The officers grabbed his arms.
He didn't fight.
He just stared at us — at the life slipping through his fingers.
As they shoved him into the police car —
I stood there in the fading sunlight.
My cheek bruised.
My ribs screaming.
My knees shaking.
But I was still standing.
Minji stepped beside me.
Close — but not touching.
Her voice barely above a whisper.
"You okay?"
"No," I answered honestly.
"But I will be."
She nodded — slow, heavy — and looked at the police car.
"And now," she breathed,
"the real war starts."