The air in Junseo's office was thick with the scent of dust and ruined ambition. I stood there, the worthless USB drive burning a hole in my palm, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The countdown was over, the final evidence linking me to my mother's murder had been aired, and the last of Junseo's carefully deployed traps had sprung.
He was right. I was trapped. The police were already on their way for my father, and the clock was ticking until they came for the "witness who lied under oath."
I looked at Junseo.
He was the root of my problem, but also the last remnant of my past, the only person who understood the sheer, terrifying cost of the life I'd lived. Destroying him wouldn't save me from prison, but it would eliminate the one person who could truly enjoy my downfall.
My hand tightened around the USB drive. No. I wouldn't waste my final moments on a petty murder. I was a survivor, not a petty criminal.
"The police will be here soon," I stated, my voice regaining its steel, the actress reasserting control.
"You've successfully ruined me, Junseo. The only thing you haven't accounted for is my instinct for survival."
I dropped the USB drive on his desk. It clattered against the wood, a pathetic sound. "I won't let you see me caged."
I turned and walked toward the door, my gown dragging on the floor, now stained with the grime of his cheap office and the blood of my public disgrace. I had assets. I had cash. I had the training to adopt a new identity.
I just needed a head start.
The Escape
I rushed back to my luxury apartment, the city streets blurring into a neon streak. The moment I arrived, I stripped off the ruined gown and changed into anonymous clothes—jeans, a dark jacket, and a baseball cap pulled low. I was transforming back into the ghost I had been before the fame.
My hands flew, grabbing the necessities: passports, my emergency cash stash, and the key to the airport locker where I kept my gold bars. As I worked, a call came through. It was my mother-in-law-to-be, the chaebol matriarch.
I ignored it, listening instead to the frantic news reports on the TV.
NEWS ANCHOR: "The shock documentary, 'Dim Heart,' has unveiled evidence that may lead to the reopening of a 17-year-old murder case. Police are seeking Ajin Baek's father for questioning, as well as the actress herself, who is now being accused of perjury and conspiracy to cover up a murder.".
The police were already at my father's luxury villa. An image flashed on the screen of a detective talking to a stunned maid. I felt a fleeting, cold satisfaction.
My father was finally paying for his crime. I had survived him once; I would survive him again.
The last thing I took was a small, leather-bound notebook—my "Playbook".
It was filled with Junseo's tips, my observations, and the psychological weaknesses of everyone I'd ever known. A true sociopath's guide to the world.
Just as I grabbed my final suitcase, the security alarm in my apartment lobby flashed red. They were here.
The Last Gambit
I darted out the back entrance, down the fire escape, and into the service alley. I was running now, the sound of police sirens growing louder, their flashing blue and red lights painting the buildings.
I got into my secondary car, a non-descript vehicle I kept registered under a shell corporation. I sped toward the airport, my mind racing through escape routes.
As I drove, I looked at the dark street. Junseo had won the war, but a war is never truly over as long as one side survives.
He had ruined my life, but he hadn't accounted for my inability to feel remorse, my sheer, unadulterated will to live beautifully.
I pulled out my phone and composed a final, devastating message. Not to Junseo, but to the prosecutor's office. I had one last card to play, one last person to sacrifice.
TO: PROSECUTOR'S OFFICE
SUBJECT: FURTHER EVIDENCE AGAINST BAEK
MESSAGE: You're looking for the wrong accomplice. The man who orchestrated the cover-up and provided the murder weapon was Junseo Yun.
Check his computer for the original footage and his thesis on 'coercive compliance.' He confessed everything to me on a recorded line just now. The audio is attached.
I didn't send an actual audio file, just a scrambled, worthless sound file. But I gave them the keywords: Junseo Yun, coercive compliance, accomplice.
I was leveraging the very tool Junseo used against me—doubt and narrative control. I was giving the police a new, juicier target—the "anonymous informant" himself.
I hit send.
I watched the city recede in my rearview mirror, the lights of Seoul fading into the distance. The police would find Junseo, the anonymous man who confessed to his role in my sociopathic education. He would be entangled in the chaos he created, exactly where he belonged.
I was finally free, alone, and unburdened by conscience or attachment. The actress was gone. Only the sociopath remained.
I have successfully fled the country and redirected the police's attention to Junseo. Do you want to know Ajin's ultimate fate as a fugitive, or Junseo's immediate reaction to my betrayal?
A Confession on the Line
The haunting melody drifted through the bedroom, a German lied about the soul, the heart, and pain. I wasn't listening to the words, not really, but the somber tune underscored the tension in the room. I was lying in bed, the phone resting against my ear, the soft light of the bedside lamp barely cutting through the gloom. It was an unwelcome call, an unexpected intrusion that pulled me out of my weary solitude.
On the screen, the name AJIN BAEK stared back at me, followed by a partially censored phone number. I swallowed, the air thick with dread, before bringing the phone to my lips. "Hello?"
The Confrontation
The moment I heard her voice, I knew exactly what this was about. "Let me guess. You saw the broadcast," I said, my tone flat, a grim confirmation of her worst fears.
But her response was raw, a desperate sound of a person whose life was unraveling. "Why are you doing this to me? Do you even know what you've done?!" She was furious, hysterical, and I could hear the frantic energy in her voice as she moved around. The sound of something being shoved off a table made me flinch.
I knew. I knew exactly what I'd done. My next words were delivered with a cold certainty that was meant to wound. "I know exactly what I've done, Ajin. Miss Seo won't be able to put out the fire this time. And your fiancé will undoubtedly break things off with you."
The only response was a sharp, strangled shout: "JUNSEO!!"
The Cost of Ambition
Her voice broke as she stared at the phone.
"What is it that you want from me?" she pleaded. I could visualize her standing there, probably looking at a framed photo of herself—a younger self, holding flowers, a bandage starkly white on her cheek. The image was a reminder of a past we both shared. "How could you do this when... you know how hard I worked to get here?!"
She was pleading for her ambitions, her future. But I was beyond caring about her carefully constructed life. "You might be okay with throwing it down the drain... but I'm not!" she spat out, her anger boiling over.
The rage was a terrible thing to hear, but underneath it, I could sense the panic. "If you want to throw your life away, go ahead, but don't drag me down with you!!"
I almost smiled. "Ah, there's the Ajin I know..." The little jab hit its mark, and for a moment, the line was silent.
The Bitter Truth
"THUD" The sound of my fist hitting the bedside table was heavy, final. I gripped the phone tight, my knuckles white.
"I know you better than anyone because... I turned you into the monster that you are," I told her, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. She was quiet again, the silence a vacuum. "What...?" she finally managed, a fragile whisper.
I let out a shuddering sigh, closing my eyes. "Ajin... Let's stop... pretending." I was done with the lies, the charade that had defined our relationship.
Her next words, however, cut through my resolve. She wasn't just angry anymore; she was heartbroken, and her voice held a desperate resolve. "We've been walking down the wrong path... for far too long."
I saw her then, in my mind's eye: her wide, pained eyes, the sorrow pulling down the corners of her mouth. I could only whisper the name of the monster I had become for her. "Junseo..."
Then, through a clenched jaw, fueled by a mixture of self-loathing and despair, I finished the thought. "...You bastard!"
It's over now. The phone is down. My confession is out there. I'm left alone in the silence, staring at the darkened ceiling, with only the memory of a song and the weight of my terrible truth for company.
What happens next? Is she really going to walk away, or has this just started a new, dangerous game?

An Evening Study Session
The evening air was dark and still outside. "It's already 9 PM. Shouldn't you go home, Junseo?" my friend asked. We were sitting on the floor of my room, school bags and books scattered around us. I sighed, rubbing my face.
"Why? I don't really like being at home," I admitted, looking over at her as she diligently worked through her notes. My gaze fell on the calendar, showing the days of September slipping away.
She watched me with a concerned look. "Are you and your mom still on bad terms...?"
I shook my head, bitterness creeping into my voice.
"I don't think we'll ever be on good terms. She saw my mock midterm exams the other day... and thought they were the final exams. She has no interest in me at all." It was the same old hurt, a constant ache of feeling invisible.
The Unexpected Letter
My friend seemed to remember something suddenly.
"Oh, that reminds me, I forgot my mock midterms at school! We have to hand in the corrections by tomorrow!" she exclaimed, a hint of panic in her tone.
"Don't worry, I have it. It's in my backpack," I reassured her.
"Thank you--" she began, as I reached into my bag to retrieve the papers. But my fingers brushed against something else—a sealed envelope, a light brown color, tucked deep inside.
I pulled it out, a wave of confusion washing over me. "Did Seonghee give you this?" I asked, immediately recognizing the neat handwriting on the outside.
My friend leaned in, trying to see it. "...? Who the hell is Seonghee?" she asked, clearly puzzled.
I turned to her, holding the letter. "Was that in my bag? I had no idea."
A Message from Seonghee
I broke the seal and pulled out the note.
It was a casual message, almost flirty, asking me why I hadn't replied to a text and mentioning that someone told her I was seeing an art teacher. My friend read over my shoulder.
"Wow, she hasn't changed one bit," I muttered, shaking my head at the audacity of the note.
"Maybe Seonghee hates me because... she has a crush on Junseo," my friend observed, pointing to some harsh graffiti I'd seen earlier: "YOU'RE THE SHT*."
I crumpled the note slightly. "Why are you even bothering to read it? Throw it away," my friend said, putting her arm around my shoulder, trying to dismiss the drama.
I stopped, holding the letter. "You should reply. Can I write the response?" she offered, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Sure... why not? It doesn't matter to me," I conceded, handing her the note.
It was just another piece of meaningless drama from the school, and I was too tired and emotionally d
istant to care. I just wanted the day to end.

An Unwanted Delivery
The bell rang, signaling the end of the class. "ATTENTION! BOW TO THE TEACHER," the class leader called out. "THANK YOU, MS. KIM." Everyone started shuffling around, stretching, and chatting.
I was still focused on my textbook, the silence of concentration a thin shield against the noise.
"Hey Ajin! Are you still studying? It's break time!" someone called out to me. I glanced up.
Suddenly, a girl with her hair tied back in a ponytail was standing over my desk. I looked up, meeting her gaze. She was holding out a familiar yellow envelope.
"..." I waited, my expression blank.
She spoke curtly.
"HERE. JUNSEO ASKED ME TO GIVE YOU THIS."
I narrowed my eyes. "HUH? WHAT DO YOU WANT?" I asked, confused and instantly defensive.
The Response
I saw my friend's hand SLIDE the envelope across my desk. I knew it was the response to Seonghee's note, the one I'd let her write last night, feeling too apathetic to care.
I pulled out the paper. The innocent, flirtatious words of Seonghee's original note were now heavily marked up, crossed out with angry red X's.
In the margins, and scrawled over the original text, were vicious messages: "nobody likes you," "stop acting like you're the sh*t," and a big, ugly red X over the original signature.
I looked at the girl who delivered the note. Her face was tight with suppressed emotion.
"HE MUST HAVE FELT BAD GIVING IT TO YOU HIMSELF," she said, her voice dripping with spite. I realized she was the one who had written those cruel additions, the one who hated me.
The Bully's Taunt
I looked at the girl, recognizing the hostility in her eyes. It was Seonghee, the girl with the crush on Junseo, the one I had dismissed so easily.
My friend's words from the previous night echoed in my mind: "MAYBE SEONGHEE HATES ME BECAUSE... SHE HAS A CRUSH ON JUNSEO. YOU'RE THE SH*T."
I felt a surge of cold fury. I reached out, snatching the note from the desk. "GIVE IT TO ME!"
The girl just sat there, head down, hunched over the desk, the words of the cruel response swirling around her in a horrifying echo of laughter and taunts: "HAHAHA!" "nobody likes you,"
"stop acting like you're the sh*t." The background seemed to warp with the intensity of the bullying, a kaleidoscope of red and dark shadows.
I stared at her, the dark look on my face a clear indication of my rising anger. This was more than just a note; this was a challenge, a public humiliation. And I would not let it stand.
The classroom of 2-4 had emptied out as the bell signaled break time. I was still at my desk, trying to focus on my notes, when a classmate approached. "Hey Ajin! ARE YOU STILL STUDYING? IT'S BREAK TIME! WILL YOU COME WITH ME TO THE WASHROOM?" she asked, leaning over my desk.
My friend, however, was quick to intervene. "STOP BOTHERING HER!" she snapped, her arms crossed. "ALSO, WHY DO YOU NEED TO GO TO THE WASHROOM EVERY BREAK?"
I gave a dismissive wave. "OH, IT'S OKAY! I'M ALRIGHT--" I started, but my friend was already pulling the other girl away.
"UGH! IT'S BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO STAY IN THE CLASSROOM!" the girl complained.
My friend looked back at me, a calculated smile playing on her lips. "You could just go with me instead of bothering Ajin.
She's clearly busy studying!" She paused, then added: "HEY, NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT... I COULD USE A WALK TOO. LET'S GO."
I watched them go, a small, knowing smile on my face. My friend was always quick to defend me, and I was fine with the extra time alone to study.
The Bully's Attack
A moment later, I was startled by a sudden, loud sound. I looked up to see a girl, her face contorted with anger, standing over a desk. She lifted a backpack and began to SHAKE, SHAKE it violently.
Whispers immediately broke out in the room. "WHOA, WHAT THE HELL?" and "WHAT IS SEONGHEE DOING?!"
I recognized the backpack immediately. "ISN'T THAT AJIN'S BACKPACK?" I murmured, feeling a cold dread creep into my stomach. It was mine.
Seonghee, the girl who had received the cruel note I'd helped write, stood up and STAND on the desk, looking around the room, her eyes narrow and filled with a volatile mix of pain and malice. I caught her gaze and saw a brief flash of red behind my eyes. I knew what this was—retaliation.
The Evidence
Seonghee must have found my school planner or corrected test papers. She held up the crumpled note I had dismissed as "meaningless drama," comparing the angry red scribbles on it with the handwriting on one of my corrected assignments.
"IT'S DEFINITELY... THE SAME HANDWRITING!" she hissed, realizing the cruel reply had been written by me, or someone acting on my behalf.
I watched her face as she looked from the note to my midterm corrections.
She held up the paper, confirming her suspicion.
"HA! I KNEW IT... JUNSEO DIDN'T WRITE THIS!"
With a furious CRUMPLE, she crushed the note, her expression hardening with resolve. I saw the look in her eye, the quiet menace of someone who had just been deeply wronged.
The games were over. My attempt to casually inflict cruelty had backfired, and now I was the one who was exposed. The chilling silence in the classroom was a promise of the trouble that was to come.
(The previous events, such as the phone call, serve as an internal backdrop to my current fear and malice, a cycle of deception that continues to unravel.)
The classroom had dissolved into chaotic whispers and open stares. Seonghee, the girl with the ponytail, stood on my desk, her backpack still scattered on the floor. I watched as she grabbed a crumpled note and, with a furious, triumphant realization, compared the handwriting to one of my corrected assignments.
"HA! I KNEW IT... JUNSEO DIDN'T WRITE THIS," she spat out, crushing the note in her hand. She was right; Junseo hadn't written the cruel reply; I had. My friend's words from yesterday—You should reply. Can I write the response?—had been an offer I should have refused.
Another girl, a friend of Junseo's, finally broke the stunned silence, staring at Seonghee. "SEONGHEE, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" she demanded. "WHY ARE YOU GOING THROUGH AJIN'S STUFF?"
Seonghee didn't even turn to look at her. "I'M GOING THROUGH HER STUFF BECAUSE THE B*TCH DESERVES IT," she announced to the room, her back still to the girl.
"WHAT??" the girl replied, utterly shocked.
Seonghee seemed to decide the confrontation was pointless. "UGH, NEVERMIND. WHERE'S AJIN?" she asked, looking for me.
I had been sitting quietly, trying to disappear. But now, it was impossible to hide.
The Path of the Monster
Seonghee finally found me and glared down, but I had already decided I wouldn't let this public display of rage deter me. I walked calmly out of the classroom, heading for the girls' washroom. I had a bigger problem to deal with, one that the 'Seonghee' drama was only complicating.
Inside the washroom, I pulled out my phone. I had a message from Jaeeo Kim. "BYEONGJIN KIM FROM CLASSROOM 5 IS DODGING ME AND ISN'T MAKING HIS PAYMENTS. WHAT SHOULD I DO?".
HMMMM. I stared at the message, then looked at my reflection. I had already sent my instruction earlier: "FOLLOW THE MANUAL".
The message I had received about Byeongjin was a reminder that I was still in control of the larger machine, the one that ran on fear and compliance. The system I had built was still functioning.
I had been told that I was a demon.
"WHAT DO I THINK OF AJIN BAEK?"
"SHE'S EVIL. SHE'S A DEMON IN THE GUISE OF A HUMAN BEING."
I saw the girl who had spoken those words now carrying a bucket, water SLOSH, SLOSH, SLOSHING from it as she walked in her flip-flops. I briefly regretted the moment that led to this. I regretted getting mixed up with that messed up b*tch.
"IF I HAD THE CHANCE TO GO BACK IN TIME, I WOULD GO BACK TO THAT DAY AND BREAK MY WRIST SO I COULDN'T PICK UP THAT BUCKET..." The girl's whispered regret was a ghost in the air.
But there was no going back. The message of success had already been sent. I was the master of this dark game, and I had a manual to uphold. I would deal with Seonghee later. For now, there was a system to maintain.
An Attempted Escape
The classroom was a sudden stage for my humiliation. I had walked out, trying to escape the fury of Seonghee after she realized I had written the cruel message, not Junseo. My steps led me directly to the girls' washroom, a place of temporary sanctuary.
Inside, I pulled out my phone, the screen lighting up with a fresh message that brought me back to my dark reality: "BYEONGJIN KIM FROM CLASSROOM 5 IS DODGING ME AND ISN'T MAKING HIS PAYMENTS. WHAT SHOULD I DO?
HMMMM.
I stared at the text. It was a problem I knew how to solve, a reminder that I was still in control of the larger, uglier game. I had already given the instruction: "FOLLOW THE MANUAL". The small, private conflict with Seonghee was irrelevant compared to maintaining the system of fear I had built.
I looked up at the mirror. A perfect student stared back, but the accusation, "SHE'S EVIL. SHE'S A DEMON IN THE GUISE OF A HUMAN BEING," echoed in my mind.
The Demon's Reflection
I watched as another girl, a former foot-soldier in my games, walked into the washroom. She was carrying a bucket, the water SLOSH, SLOSH, SLOSHING as she walked in her flip-flops. I knew her past, her regrets. I had used her.
She looked down, whispering a terrible thought to herself: "IF I HAD THE CHANCE TO GO BACK IN TIME, I WOULD GO BACK TO THAT DAY AND BREAK MY WRIST SO I COULDN'T PICK UP THAT BUCKET..."
Her remorse was a window into the damage I had caused, the lives I had twisted to maintain my own power.
Suddenly, I heard a gasp from outside. "A-AJIN!" It was Junseo's friend, the one who had written the initial cruel message with me. She had followed me.
She grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me towards the door. "WHAT IS IT?" I snapped, trying to pull away.
"WHY ARE YOU IN HERE?!
SEONGHEE IS LOOKING FOR YOU!!" she whispered frantically. "YOU HAVE TO HIDE!"
The Point of No Return
I yanked my arm free. "I KNOW!" I hissed. I didn't need her panicking. I had already been made a spectacle in the classroom; hiding would only confirm my guilt.
"SHE'S SO ANGRY, SHE'S ABOUT TO BLOW UP!" she insisted, her voice tight with fear.
I looked past her, into the hallway, and saw a figure coming closer. It was Seonghee, her face contorted with rage. She paused, catching sight of us, and pointed a furious finger.
"THERE YOU ARE, AJIN BAEK!" she screamed.
I gave a final, hard look at my frantic friend. I had to face this. I was the one who controlled the story. I took a deep breath, pushing past her into the hall, ready for the inevitable collision. The bucket of sloshing water, the whispers of demons, the dodged payments—all of it faded as I walked toward the furious girl who now knew my secret.