The night was merciless. Cold, sharp, and biting. The glow from Cyber Crime HQ faded behind Kang Eun-ji as she stepped onto the wet asphalt, droplets of rain already forming on her coat. Her temples throbbed with exhaustion, every step toward her car heavy with dread.
Her phone buzzed violently in her hand. She answered without thinking.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was frantic, ragged, panicked—her husband.
"Eun-ji... someone's here," he gasped.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"What do you mean?" she demanded, voice taut, sharp.
A loud CRASH cut through the line. Furniture scraping against the floor. A thud of something heavy. A struggle.
"I think someone broke in—"
A choked, uneven breath.
"Eun-ji—"
The line went dead.
Silence fell like a hammer. Cold. Absolute.
"Hello?! Hello?!" Her voice shattered into the night. Nothing answered.
Her blood ran ice-cold. Panic flared, raw and suffocating. She ran.
The streets of Seoul blurred under her speeding car. Streetlights smeared into gold streaks, neon reflections dancing across puddles. Her grip on the wheel tightened until her knuckles were white, every heartbeat echoing in her ears like a warning drum. She called again, frantically. No answer. The panic coiled tighter with every second.
The front door to her apartment was ajar. A weak, flickering light struggled against the darkness inside. Eun-ji's breath caught in her throat as she pushed it open slowly.
"Honey?" Her voice trembled, small, fragile.
Broken glass crunched beneath her boots. A chair lay toppled, grotesque shadows stretching across the walls. The room smelled faintly of iron and smoke.
"Honey?!"
She ran, faster now, heart hammering, every muscle taut—and then froze.
Her husband lay sprawled on the floor. Blood spread across the white tiles like a living, dark river. His chest rose and fell with shallow, struggling breaths.
"No... no..." she whispered, falling beside him.
He coughed, weak, trembling, each breath a painful effort. His hand quivered as it reached toward the sofa. Eun-ji followed the motion, her eyes locking on a small table. A box.
Tulips. Her favorite. Their stems damp with water.
"I... wanted to surprise you," he murmured, faint, fragile.
Her hands shook as she opened the box. Inside rested a small chocolate cake, delicate and bittersweet. Her chest tightened.
"Why... why now...?" Her voice broke, ragged.
He struggled to sit upright, pulling a small, familiar notebook from his pocket. Her diary.
She froze.
"I found it..." he whispered, voice barely audible. Weak, fading.
"Every night... how exhausted you were... the weight you carried..."
Every page ended the same way.
He looked at her. His eyes soft, heavy with love and sorrow. His last words, almost a gift in the dark silence.
"You still chose me."
Tears blurred her vision as she gripped his hand, desperate, terrified, loving.
"Don't... don't say that. You'll be okay," she pleaded, voice cracking.
He smiled faintly, a fragile warmth piercing the darkness.
"I always loved you."
His hand slackened. His breath slowed... then stopped. Silence swallowed the room whole.
The diary slipped from her fingers, open. Her handwriting stared back at her:
"Even when everything feels heavy...
he is still the place I choose."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and bitter.
Behind her, the wall was no longer blank. Thick, dripping streaks of crimson smeared across the white, forming a painting. Violent, deliberate, unnerving. A jagged signature marked the corner, as if the artist had left a calling card.
Eun-ji stood frozen, the weight of loss and the presence of danger suffocating her. Somewhere, far away, the hunt had never stopped. The red markers were still moving. Still alive.
Her pulse raced. Every instinct screamed.
The game was far from over.