Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If you asked anyone how life was going, most people would probably lie. Sometimes, it’s not even because their life is truly bad, but simply because answering a “How are you?” with an automatic “I’m fine, and you?” has become a hard habit to break.

If someone asked Seong Gi-hun, he would also say that everything was fine. After all, just as he had learned to lie to his own family, lying to himself had become a natural reflex. But the truth? The truth was that nothing had been fine for years. And the worst part? He saw no hope for improvement. So, he just kept going, as if the simple act of breathing was enough.

Of course, he wanted to change his life—everyone does. But for a 46-year-old man, living in his late mother’s house wasn’t ideal. It was, however, the only thing his ruined financial situation allowed. After losing his job, sinking his business, and getting tangled up in debts with loan sharks, the final blow came with the divorce. Not that he still loved his ex-wife; that feeling had died the day he placed his first bet. But his daughter… she deserved more.

Ga-yeong deserved a better father. A better life. Deep down, he knew that losing custody was the best thing for her. What he didn’t know was that when she and her mother moved abroad, the emptiness inside him would become a bottomless pit.

And how do you fill such a vast void? Gi-hun gambled. Horse racing was his only escape, his only hope. He dreamed of the day luck would finally smile on him, allowing him to rebuild his life from scratch. But the horses always took more than they gave. And in the process, he made enemies.

Banks no longer granted him loans, and he knew turning to loan sharks again was a mistake. But he couldn’t stop. Damn Jung-bae for dragging him into this mess.

Some days, he woke up optimistic, convinced that this time, things would go right. He and Jung-bae would drink soju first thing in the morning and spend the day cheering until the finish line. And even if he lost, there was always tomorrow. But then there were days when reality weighed him down. He would text Ga-yeong, and though she replied, he could feel the distance between them growing with each conversation. He still gambled—because it was the only thing he knew how to do—but without enthusiasm. On those days, not even Jung-bae’s jokes could bring out a genuine smile.

On the truly bad days, he would cross paths with Kim Jeong-rae and his thugs, returning home bruised, broken, but still hoping that tomorrow would bring something better.

His job as a driver wasn’t enough to pay his debts, but his car was one of the few valuable things he still owned, so he took care of it as if his life depended on it.

And so, his days went on. The same cycle. The same despair. The same illusion that luck could change his life.

But in the end, it wasn’t the horses that changed it.

It was what he saw. Something he was never supposed to see.

And in that moment, Seong Gi-hun realized that his biggest problem was no longer his debt, his distant daughter, or the loan sharks.

His biggest problem now was… surviving.

“Go, go, GO! Don’t give up!"

"Run, you stupid horse!"

"Just a little more, come on!"

"YES! YES! YES!"

The roar of the crowd grew as the race neared its end. Horses number six and eight were fiercely competing for first place, and—whether it was a spur-of-the-moment decision or a rare stroke of luck—Gi-hun had bet on the sixth to win and the eighth to come in second. Eyes glued to the screen; he held his breath as number six overtook its rival at the very last second. A double victory.

Frustrated grumbles spread through the room, including from Jung-bae, who had bet on number nine and watched his horse cross the finish line dead last—a total disaster. While his friend cursed his own bad luck, Gi-hun let out a euphoric shout and hugged him, ignoring his disappointed expression. He lost more often than he won—that was a fact. But that moment… that brief instant of triumph… made up for all the defeats combined. That was what kept him coming back to that damn betting center.

"It’s been months since I last got a bet right in this dump…" Jung-bae sighed, crumpling his ticket before tossing it in the trash. "You’re buying soju today, Gi-hun."

Gi-hun laughed, slapping his friend on the back. The 4.56 million won he had just won had never looked so beautiful. And all he had done to earn it was picking two numbers. Now, he had a thousand possibilities. He could finally wash his car or fix the washing machine that had been broken for weeks. He could buy as many bottles of soju as Jung-bae wanted and maybe even send a gift to his daughter in the United States.

It had truly been a good day. He had found hot water in the shower that morning, the grumpy street cat—the same one that always ran away from him—had let itself be petted for the first time. And to top it all off, he hit the jackpot on the races.

After putting the money on he’s wallet – the weight of the money almost ripping the old piece apart – they both head outside. He smoked a cigarette with Jung-bae—a terrible habit he had picked up after the divorce—bided his goodbye and left for work. His friend mocked him, saying he could take the day off now that he was "rich." Gi-hun laughed, but he knew the truth. Given the size of his debts, that money would be gone in a few days. He didn’t have the luxury of stopping.

They went their separate ways, but not before agreeing to meet that night, at the same bar as always, to celebrate.

The rest of the day passed without major incidents. With each customer who stepped into his car, Gi-hun greeted them with a polite smile and recited, almost mechanically, his list of courtesies: "Would you like some water? Is the temperature comfortable? Want to change the radio station?" Trivial questions that, on normal days, he wouldn’t even bother asking. But today was a special day, and nothing—absolutely nothing—could ruin his good mood.

It was past eight in the evening when he decided to take a break. He was still relatively far from the bar where he would meet Jung-bae, so he would accept one more ride, as long as the destination didn’t take him too far away. His phone buzzed with persistent ride requests that would take him to the other side of the city. Ignoring them for a moment, he decided to send a message to his daughter.

"Hi, sweetheart, how are you? Your dad hit the jackpot today and wanted to know if you’d like something special for your birthday. There are still a few weeks left, so let me know in advance so I have time to send it."

Gi-hun hesitated. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before adding a second message:

"Or maybe I could visit you… what do you think?"

He stared at the words on the screen, his eyes fixed on the possibility of rejection. Taking a deep breath, he pressed "send." It didn’t hurt to try.

As he waited for a response, he scrolled through their message history and noticed how long it took for his daughter to reply. He blamed the twelve-hour time difference between their countries, but the truth was hard to ignore—Ga-yeong sometimes took more than a day to respond to a simple "good morning." It was a shot in the dark. He knew that. But he couldn’t help himself. He no longer sought contact with his ex-wife, but losing his daughter this way… that was something he wasn’t ready to accept. Even though, deep down, he felt like he had already lost her.

Before his thoughts could drag him into a darker place, a new ride request popped up. Something interesting. The passenger was only two minutes away, and the destination was just a few blocks from his meeting point with Jung-bae. Gi-hun smiled. He didn’t even bother checking the fare—this was already a win.

He drove to the location marked on the map and parked near a bus stop, where a woman sat on one of the metal chairs. She wore a cap and loose-fitting clothes, but her short hair and youthful face revealed that she couldn’t be older than 25. The thought came almost automatically: What was a girl this young doing alone on the street at this hour?

But Gi-hun knew that kind of comment wouldn’t sound right, so he kept quiet. He simply observed as she lifted her face, and her eyes, hidden beneath the brim of the cap, turned toward him.

“Miss Jung Ho-yeon?" — he said, lowering the window.

The woman quickly lifted her gaze and nodded in confirmation. Without saying a single word, she moved toward the passenger seat beside the driver and shut the door with a sharp thud—so loud that it made Gi-hun wonder if something was wrong. The air inside the car seemed to grow heavier, thick with silent tension. Still, maintaining his good mood, he greeted his last client of the night and wished her a good evening.

Silence.

It was a Friday, and the streets were busier than usual for that time of night. The slow traffic dragged the trip on, making it longer than necessary. To lighten the heavy atmosphere, Gi-hun tried the usual small talk—commenting on the weather, making jokes about the traffic, asking vague questions. But the only responses he got were subtle nods, an occasional murmur of agreement or disagreement. If not for those small signs of life, he could have sworn his passenger wasn’t even there. Her disinterest was almost palpable.

“Ah, this traffic is driving me crazy… Would you like to listen to some radio?” He tried once more.

He wasn’t expecting a response. He just wanted something to fill the suffocating silence between them. But to his surprise, the woman reacted. Her eyes moved beneath the brim of her cap, and her posture seemed to shift.

“I do.”

Gi-hun blinked, surprised. Not by the answer itself, but by the fact that he had finally heard more than just a “yes,” “no,” or an unintelligible grunt.

“Really?” The question slipped before he could stop himself. His reaction sounded ruder than intended, and he cleared his throat, trying to cover his embarrassment. “I mean… Any specific station you’d like to hear?”

She hesitated for a moment.

“The one with the special program on North Korea.”

Gi-hun frowned. He knew that station well. It was popular for its sensationalist crime reports, as well as a daily program dedicated to North Korean defectors and the horrors committed in the neighboring country. The content was controversial, and the station’s owner constantly walked a fine line, risking serious trouble by covering such topics. Still, the public was hungry for those stories—curious, fascinated, horrified.

For a brief moment, he felt the urge to ask if she was North Korean. But he held back. The last thing he wanted was to come across as intrusive.

He simply nodded and turned the radio dial. The traffic forced him to slow down, so he took the opportunity to search for the station. But his car was old, and few people still listened to the radio. The device let out loud static noises, interrupted by off-tune music fragments. He kept turning the knob, but nothing.

Before he could complain about the damn radio’s lack of precision, Ho-yeon leaned forward. Without warning, she reached across the dashboard and started her own search, accidentally brushing against him in the process.

The unexpected touch made Gi-hun instinctively recoil. He shifted away to give her space, saying nothing about her sudden disregard for personal boundaries—but he would definitely tell Jung-bae about this later.

Unlike him, she found the station quickly. As soon as the signal stabilized, Ho-yeon leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms and turning her gaze to the window. Gi-hun watched her through the rearview mirror. Her face remained partially hidden beneath the cap, but he knew her eyes were following the vibrant city lights of Seoul at night.

The broadcast was, in fact, discussing North Korea. Gi-hun only caught fragments of the conversation between the commentators—it wasn’t wise to take his focus off the road too much, but curiosity was inevitable.

Apparently, a group of escapees had been cornered in an abandoned house, preparing to cross the border. They had been burned alive.

Exemplary punishment, some would say.

Gi-hun furrowed his brows at such cruelty. It was hard to comprehend how a human being could be so cold as to condemn someone to such an agonizing death. He knew that in war, there was no room for mercy, but instead of granting the enemy a swift and just execution, they chose to torture them.

Simply inadmissible.

The hosts then promised to reveal the list of the deceased—a highly classified piece of information, obtained through questionable means. Upon hearing this, Ho-yeon slightly leaned forward, a subtle gesture, but heavy with anticipation. Gi-hun noticed her intent and, without hesitation, turned up the volume. The names echoed through the closed car, filling the space with a solemn weight.

She leaned back into her seat again, no longer needing to strain to listen. No words of thanks escaped her lips, but Gi-hun smiled to himself, satisfied. He didn’t need recognition. He knew he had done the right thing.

The program continued until its conclusion, with the host wishing peace for the souls of the deceased. In the back seat, a quiet sigh broke the silence—short, but heavy with emotion. It was enough to confirm Gi-hun’s suspicions: his passenger was a North Korean defector. And worse, someone who likely still had ties to that hell. Relatives? Friends? He couldn’t say. But it was evident that, on the other side of the border, something still held her captive.

The urge to comfort her surfaced as a reflex, but how? What could he say that wouldn’t sound insensitive or hollow?

Before he could follow that train of thought, the jingle of a new segment burst through the radio, and the voice of the next host filled the car with macabre enthusiasm.

“And we’re back with our live session of True Crimes! This time, with a very special guest: Mrs. Jang Geum-ja, mother of the latest victim of the infamous Given-Taken Killer! Or, as is popularly known, The Taker. In case your unaware of how he operates, his modus operandi consists of offering his victims everything they desire… only to take it all away at the peak of their lives! Today, in an exclusive interview, we will reveal details of the sixth murder committed by this serial killer who has been terrorizing the country! Don’t go anywhere!”

A shiver ran down Gi-hun’s spine. He pressed his lips together and instinctively turned down the radio volume. Not that he wasn’t interested—on the contrary. But hearing it so loudly made something inside him twist.

He usually avoided true crime shows. His own life was bad enough. He didn’t need constant reminders so that it could always get worse.

While some people found comfort in knowing that others had it worse, Gi-hun felt nothing but discomfort. So, yes, he avoided it. But still, curiosity won over, and he found himself listening intently to the interviewer’s words.

“It’s been a few months since your son’s death, and only now have you decided to speak publicly about the case. Is there a reason behind this?”

“Even after all this time, I still don’t feel ready... But I want to use this moment as a warning, so that no one else has to go through this... *sound of sobbing* M-my Yong-sik was such a cheerful boy... He would never hurt anyone! The day he came home saying he had received money from a friend to pay off his debts, I was so happy that I didn’t even bother to ask who... If I had—if I had asked, none of this would have happened, and—”

“That all sounds very interesting, Mrs. Jang, but we have to take a quick commercial break. Soon, you’ll be able to tell our listeners all the details about your son’s death. We’ll be right back—stay tuned!”

Okay, that was enough.

Gi-hun tightened his grip on the steering wheel and turned off the radio.

What kind of monster cuts off a grieving mother mid-sentence just to go to a commercial break? The interviewer didn’t even pretend to be empathetic. Just another vulture lurking, feeding on other people’s pain for the sake of entertainment.

Pathetic bastard.

If Ho-yeon was bothered by the sudden silence in the car, she didn’t show it. Either way, they would soon reach her destination, so it didn’t matter.

But something about all of this unsettled Gi-hun in a strange way.

A serial killer in Korea? The host had said this was the sixth murder, yet Gi-hun had never heard anything about it. Serial killers were an anomaly there—something from the West, from movies and foreign documentaries. And yet, the police still seemed to be one step behind. Six victims and no trace of the killer.

He tried to push those thoughts away. Filling his mind with negativity wouldn’t do him any good. But one sentence from the victim’s mother kept echoing in his head:

"... The day he came home saying he had received money from a friend to pay off his debts..."

The killer helped his victims before killing them.

Did that mean he specifically targeted people struggling financially?

Gi-hun squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out that thought. Admitting it was the same as accepting that he himself could be a target.

But honestly… it wasn’t impossible.

No, he was worrying for nothing. A serial killer would never choose someone like him out of millions of people. And the program hadn’t even specified where the crimes were taking place. No killer would be stupid enough to commit all their murders in the same city. They’d be caught within days.

There were so many people in debt out there. This ‘The Taker’ guy would have to be a genius to target him in the middle of the crowd.

Yeah, yeah. There was nothing to worry about.

Gi-hun slowed down as he approached the corner where he would drop off his passenger. The location was perfect—an easy spot for him to make a U-turn and head to his appointment.

Ho-yeon reached into her pocket and extended a few bills toward him without even looking at him. Gi-hun cast a quick glance at the money before pushing her hand back.

"No need. This one’s on me."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with something unreadable.

"I had a good day. So, you buy yourself a coffee." He smiled, sincerely.

For a moment, something flickered in her gaze. A silent acknowledgment. Then, without a single word, Ho-yeon tucked the money away and stepped out of the car.

Gi-hun wasn’t good at reading people, but there was something in that look that felt… grateful. And yet, there was something else there, too.

She was strange.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d thought about comforting her earlier, listening to the news about North Korea. But since he wasn’t good with words, at least he could express himself through actions.

And in the end, he felt like he’d done the right thing again.

Checking his phone, he noticed it was already past 9:30. Jung-bae had sent him a few not-so-friendly messages about his delay. Well, it wasn’t his fault that Seoul was a massive, hellish city on a Friday night. Without replying, Gi-hun simply tossed the phone onto the seat beside him and started the car.

They would have a lot to talk about when they met.

"Unbelievable. You win the lottery and forget about your friends?"

Gi-hun rolled his eyes at his friend's dramatics, not bothering to justify himself.

"How many of those have you had?" he asked, pointing at the half-empty green bottle on the table.

The bar was quieter than expected for that time of night. The few customers there were local residents and old men playing cards at a leisurely pace. He and Jung-bae had chosen a table outside, escaping the stuffy air inside, thick with the smell of tobacco, in favor of the cold night breeze.

"Two, while I waited for you. I put them on your tab, by the way." Jung-bae replied, downing his drink and already pouring himself another.

"What a great friend you are."

Jung-bae scoffed, mocking him in a high-pitched voice before filling Gi-hun’s glass.

Gi-hun took off the worn-out cap he had been wearing all day and ran a hand through his hair, finally allowing himself to feel the weight of exhaustion. It was longer than usual. He needed a haircut. His mother used to trim the ends with her sewing scissors at home, but now that she was no longer around, he’d have to figure something out on his own. Luckily, with his small fortune, he could afford that luxury.

"So, tomorrow, same time?"

Gi-hun looked up at his friend, already knowing what he was referring to. Jung-bae meant the betting house.

He forced a smile before shaking his head.

"I don’t think so. I’m going to try holding onto this money for a bit." He replied, taking a sip of his drink.

The bitter taste and the burn down his throat was the same as always. It never got any better, no matter how long he drank. Still, it was comforting after a long day.

"What? Are you telling me that the king of the races, Seong Gi-hun, is going to quit at the peak of his success?"

Both laughed at the joke, but Gi-hun remained firm.

"I need to save some money. Maybe I’ll go visit Ga-yeong for her birthday."

Jung-bae’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"You? In the United States? Her mother will allow that?" He laughed, as if it were the most absurd thing, he had heard that night.

"I don’t need her permission to travel abroad." Gi-hun replied flatly.

"Maybe not, but you do need her permission to see your daughter. Imagine spending all that money only to not even get to see the kid."

"Aishi…" Gi-hun sighed, impatient. "If Ga-yeong wants to see me, it’ll be worth it. So, until then, I need money. Go alone tomorrow."

Jung-bae huffed beside him, offended.

"Honestly… they say money changes people, and I can see it now."

He took another sip before looking at Gi-hun, his eyes slightly unfocused.

"And what about your debts, huh? When are you paying them off? Or are you going to blow everything on a plane ticket?"

The alcohol was loosening his tongue.

Nearly three bottles in, and Jung-bae had turned into that annoying kind of drunk—the one who makes no sense but insists on arguing about everything.

Gi-hun clenched his jaw. Debts were the last thing he wanted to think about right now. But, of course, the idiot beside him had to bring it up.

Curiously, though, instead of thinking about the loan sharks chasing him, his mind drifted back to that radio program.

Jung-bae was never the type to follow the news, but he could try to ask.

"Hey, have you ever heard of a guy called The Taker?"

Gi-hun asked casually, finishing his drink and signaling a passing waiter for another bottle.

Jung-bae narrowed his eyes, as if trying to remember. His pupils were dilated from the alcohol, and he blinked a few times before responding.

"Ah… that serial killer, right?"

Gi-hun stopped mid-pour and stared at his friend, incredulously.

"You know about him?"

"Of course. My wife loves those crime documentaries. She’s always talking about them over dinner." He took a sip of soju before adding, in an almost indifferent tone, "Besides, that guy only kills people here in Seoul. Hard not to know about him."

A chill ran down Gi-hun’s spine.

He had called a serial killer stupid less than an hour ago. He hoped karma wasn’t fast enough to punish him for that.

But what really bothered him was something else. How had he never heard of this killer before? Was he really that disconnected from the world?

"Just thinking about the stuff my wife tells me gives me the creeps. I don’t know why women love that stuff so much." Jung-bae made a face before downing another shot. Noticing his friend’s silence, he tried changing the subject: "Anyway, don’t dwell on it. There are better things to talk about. For example, how was work today?"

Gi-hun took a deep breath. Jung-bae was right. It wasn’t worth wasting time on these thoughts.

So, he started telling some stories about his passengers, including the North Korean girl he had dropped off last. The topic soon dissolved into trivial conversations, no deep meanings, just laughter and more shots of soju.

At some point, Jung-bae’s phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up, and his expression shifted from cheerful to slightly anxious.

"It’s my wife." He swallowed dryly. "Time to go home."

Gi-hun didn’t know exactly how his friend’s marriage was going, but it seemed like all the alcohol had evaporated from his body in an instant. Not enough to drive, of course, so he called a cab.

"Are you sure you’re paying for everything? I was joking when I said it was all on you." Jung-bae asked as he got into the car. The driver looked impatient but allowed them to finish their conversation.

"Yeah, don’t worry, I got you this time. I’ll stick around for a bit and drink some water. Go home."

He waved as the taxi drove away.

Sighing, he sat back down and ordered water from the waiter. He needed to wait before driving home. The last thing he wanted was to get into an accident or a fine.

Now that he was alone, he thought about lighting a cigarette but remembered an old message from his daughter telling him how much she hated that habit. He hesitated for a moment before putting the pack back in his pocket.

Without having anything to do, he picked up his phone to check for new messages. His heart beat a little faster when he saw a notification, but the excitement quickly turned to frustration—it was just a message from his telephone operator offering new internet plans.

He checked the time. It should already be morning in the United States. Ga-yeong had surely seen her phone by now.

But she must be busy, he thought. She’d reply later.

When she had time.

A loud thud on the table yanked him out of his thoughts about his daughter. The remaining soju bottle nearly toppled over, but Gi-hun was quick enough to grab it before it hit the floor.

Before he could curse the idiot, who had bumped into the table, his body froze.

"Yo, Gi-hun, how’s it going?"

The wide, toothy grin of Kim Jeong-era was enough to make his stomach churn. Without ceremony, the man settled into the chair that, moments ago, belonged to Jung-bae.

"You've been a bit hard to find... Are you sick, or just avoiding me?"

Of course. He had been so careful to dodge Mr. Kim’s goons these past few days… How the hell did he get caught so easily now?

His body reacted before his mind could come up with an answer. As if an electric shock forced him to move, he let out a laugh—a forced, awkward sound. Two men stood beside the table, blocking any escape route.

"Avoiding you? Of course not!" He tried to sound casual, but he felt his own voice falter. "I just wanted to make sure I had all the money for this month before looking for you."

Mr. Kim tilted his head, studying him like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Really? Because the deadline passed a week ago."

The sharp smile made it clear that he didn’t believe a single word.

Gi-hun felt cold sweat run down his neck. His mind raced to the money he had won at the betting house that morning. He hesitated for a moment—that money was meant for visiting Ga-yeong. But it didn’t matter anymore. These men were going to take everything, one way or another.

"Of course, I got it!" He forced another smile, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

The touch of empty fabric made his heart stop.

Without panicking, he checked another pocket. Then another. When he realized he had searched through them all, real panic set in.

He couldn’t have left it in the car. He never went anywhere without his wallet. He remembered having it when he received payment for his rides, remembered stuffing the bills right next to his beloved four million won.

So why wasn’t it there?

Unless…

The answer hit him like a punch to the gut.

The North Korean girl.

Gi-hun felt his mouth go dry. He had never received her payment. He didn’t need to take out his wallet after that because he refused her money. And that damn woman had stolen everything.

The disbelief hit him hard. He didn’t even have the energy to curse Jung Ho-yeon—if that was even her real name. He could only think about how much of an idiot he had been. Had he really worried about that thief?

"So?"

Mr. Kim’s voice snapped Gi-hun back to reality. The man was leaning in now, impatient. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, one of the goons behind him giving him a final warning. The adrenaline in his chest exploded. Every fiber of his being screamed: run.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Only after running half a mile through Seoul’s dark, uneven streets did Gi-hun remember how he had ended up there. The thug had reached out to grab him, but driven by survival instinct, Gi-hun had grabbed the soju bottle and smashed it against the man’s face. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, some embedding into his own skin, but the pain was drowned out by the fierce adrenaline burning in his veins. Behind him came the shouts—of pain, of fury—but he didn’t dare look back.

He knew that had been a mistake. The alcohol may have clouded his judgment, but the anger was all his. Anger at his misery, at the loan sharks who hunted him like prey, at the woman who had robbed him, at himself for never being able to fix his life. But it didn’t matter who was to blame—none of that would change the fact that he was being hunted.

Now, there was no time for regrets. If he wanted to get out of this alive, he had to run.

He knew this district, Ssangmun—streets that, in childhood, had been the setting for innocent games with Sang-woo and the other kids. But now, the alleys felt like endless mazes, and every corner could either hide him or lead him straight to his death.

Something whizzed past him, thrown from the darkness. He flinched and made a sharp turn, throwing himself into an even darker alley. The streetlights didn’t reach this corridor, plunging it into unsettling darkness. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out every other sound.

But he took the risk.

If the darkness could swallow his hope, maybe it could also hide him from his pursuers.

The angry shouts grow distant, swallowed by the heavy silence of the night. Gi-hun moves blindly, turning corners without looking back. After minutes of desperate fleeing, exhaustion hits him like a punch. He leans against a damp wall, trying to catch his breath. The adrenaline begins to fade, and pain creeps into his body, his burning legs, the cuts on his hands, his spinning head. He was more sober than he would have liked.

The silence around him is almost oppressive. He closes his eyes, sharpening his hearing. No hurried footsteps. No furious breathing. Just the distant noises of the city that never sleeps.

With a sigh, Gi-hun pulls his phone from his pocket. The screen lights up—cold and indifferent. No messages. He opens his conversation with Ga-yeong. His daughter hasn’t even read his last message. A weight settles in his chest, and in an impulsive gesture, he deletes the chat. As if erasing those unanswered words could also erase the guilt and shame consuming him.

He puts the phone back in his pocket and stares into the emptiness ahead. His life wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why did everything always have to fall apart? Every time a sliver of hope appeared; it was cruelly crushed by the weight of his own existence.

And, for a moment, he wonders what it would be like to be dead.

Not that he hadn’t thought about it before. But he had never allowed the idea to linger in his mind. There were still reasons to keep going, people he wanted to live for… But on that suffocating and relentless night, the darkness seemed to tempt him with promises of rest.

Gi-hun shakes his head, pushing the thought away. He didn’t need that. What he needed was luck. Just a spark, a small miracle to pull him out of this vicious cycle before it swallowed him whole.

Because if things kept going this way…he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

As if fate was mocking him, a 50,000-won bill slides across the filthy asphalt and stops right beside his foot. Gi-hun crouches, picking it up with trembling fingers, checking its authenticity under the dim light of his phone. It wouldn’t solve even a fraction of his problems, but at least it would cover the bar tab from which he had so blatantly fled. A pathetic victory in the midst of a once-happy day.

He lets out a humorless laugh, wondering who the unlucky soul was that had lost that money. With a sigh, he shoves the bill into his pocket—the same pocket where his wallet should have been. His stomach drops. Besides his ID, he would have to replace all his documents, cancel his cards… just another disaster to add to his never-ending list.

A chill runs down his spine when he feels something brush against his leg. He looks down. Two more bills on the ground. Gi-hun frowns. One could be luck, two is a bit odd, but three? Something is wrong. He scans the alley, expecting someone to emerge from the shadows demanding their money back. But there is no one. Just darkness and the oppressive silence of the night.

His attention falls on an even darker passage at the end of the alley. Something about it calls him. He turns on his phone’s flashlight, narrowing his eyes as the beam cuts through the blackness. And then, he nearly dropped the phone.

A trail of 50,000-won bills.

He steps forward cautiously, picking up a few along the way. It didn’t seem like someone had placed them there on purpose, it was as if the wind had pushed them in that direction. His instincts screamed at him to turn back, but his hunger for money spoke louder.

He follows the trail. The bills wouldn’t cover the 4.56 million won he had lost, but it was something. As soon as he grabbed enough, he’d get out of there. He didn’t want to find out where all that money came from.

Then, he hears it.

At first, just murmur. A muffled sound, almost indistinguishable from the sharp wind of the early morning. He freezes. It could just be homeless people. It could be Mr. Kim and his men.

But as the voices become clearer, Gi-hun’s blood runs cold.

“…please, don’t kill me… if it’s money you want… I can pay you!”

He holds his breath.

Kill?

No, he must have misheard.

But his body reacts before his mind can deny reality. His muscles are tense. Fear grips him, suffocating, paralyzing. He tries to take a step back, but the moment he moves, the voice gets closer. Too fast.

Straining his vision, he makes out a human figure emerging from the shadows. His heart threatens to rip through his chest. Terror takes hold as a pair of eyes lock onto his—filled with desperation and pure, raw fear.

“Help me.” The trembling voice shatters the silence. The man moves closer, his face now partially visible. “Help me, plea—”

The sentence dies there.

And in an instant, the man's skull splits open.

An axe—or something like it—cleaves through his head like a hot blade slicing through flesh. The impact reverberates through the alley, followed by the sickening sound of bones shattering. Blood bursts out in a thick, hot jet, splattering across Gi-hun’s face. From chin to forehead.

And in shock, mouth open, he tastes it.

Metallic.

Iron-like.

His stomach lurches. He nearly vomited right there, but swallows hard, forcing down the bile rising in his throat.

The lifeless body crashes heavily to the ground, and all Gi-hun can hear is the wet, grotesque sound of flesh hitting concrete. He can’t see much, but he feels the hot pool of blood spreading beneath his shoes. The money in his hands slips from his fingers, sinking into the viscous red.

And then—a movement.

Another figure.

This time, there’s no doubt. He is not alone.

Panic takes over. His heart pounds against his ribs, begging him to run. But his body no longer obeys. His legs give out, and he collapses backward onto the sticky ground.

And in the dim light, he sees.

A towering silhouette, still cloaked in shadows, slowly pulls the axe from the split skull, swinging a strong arm wrapped in a black coat. Blood drips from the blade, falling to the ground in dull, echoing drops. The figure seems to register Gi-hun’s presence, realizing what he saw, and raises the axe above its head.

Gi-hun can’t breathe.

He would die here.

For greed.

For a handful of dirty bills that wouldn’t change a thing.

The putrid stench of blood and garbage surrounds him, making the air thick, almost unbreathable. His mind scrambles for an escape, but all he can see is the growing shadow of his executioner.

Was this his end?

Death had always seemed distant—something that happened to others, not to him. But now, staring into the darkness, he feels true terror. The pure, relentless fear of dying.

His life flashes before his eyes—every mistake, every failure, every broken promise. The end was here, and, ironically, he wouldn’t even have to dirty his hands. Someone else would do it for him.

Gi-hun closes his eyes.

He didn’t want to die, but there was nothing he could do, so he braces himself for the final blow.

But then, a familiar voice tears through the night.

"Hey, boss, look at all this money!"

The voice echoed through the alley, slicing through the suffocating silence like a sharp blade. The sound exploded in Gi-hun’s ears, yanking him brutally out of his trance. His chest heaved, heart still hammering against his ribs.

The figure before him seemed affected as well. It stepped back into the darkness, lowering the axe slightly, fresh blood still dripping from its edge.

So, in a moment of instinct, he screams, at the top of his lungs, enough so that anyone in that alley can hear. Calling for the much-needed help he needed at that moment.

Soon enough, shadows filled the alley’s entrance. Three figures were approaching fast, drawn by the power of his screams. Relief crashed over Gi-hun like a wave when he saw Mr. Kim. He never thought he’d be so grateful to see the loan sharks who tormented him daily. He’d take dealing with them a thousand times over the executioner standing before him.

Without thinking, he shouted again, this time Kim’s name with all the strength in his lungs.

When he turned back to the shadowy figure, in the blink of an eye, they vanished, like they wasn't even there in the first place.

The only sound that followed was silent footsteps fading into the darkness. Gi-hun forced his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of his retreating figure, but nothing remained—only a mangled corpse on the ground and a few bloodstained bills.

"Gi-hun? What the fuck is this?"

Kim’s voice was close. Within seconds, the three men surrounded him, their flashlights sweeping over the scene. Gi-hun opened his mouth to explain, but no sound came out. Words died in his throat, drowned by shock.

A stronger light illuminated the alley.

That’s when everyone saw it.

The ground was a sea of blood. The body before them didn’t just lie lifeless—it was still leaking out the last remnants of life, the skull split open like a cracked shell. Part of the brain had spilled out, mixing with the thick red that painted the filthy concrete.

Someone behind Gi-hun gagged. A wet, sickening noise. Vomiting. The stench of bile mixed with blood, sweat, and garbage. The alley had become a nightmare of senses. But none of it seemed to bother Mr. Kim, which gaze was fixed on something behind the corpse.

"Boss… is that—?".

Gi-hun followed his eyes.

At first, he saw only a few loose bills, scattered in the pool of blood. But then, he noticed the real spectacle.

A bag.

Huge.

And overflowing with money.

It didn’t seem just thousands, but millions.

The bag was so full that some bills had slipped out, carried away by the cold night breeze. But inside, the stacks remained untouched—pristine, calling to them like a silent curse.

Kim let out a short, disbelieving laugh, stepping over the body without so much as blinking. "Holy shit, Gi-hun… is this what you meant when you said you had the money?"

His two goons exchanged glances before crouching down to scoop up the scattered bills. They didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the corpse at their feet.

Kim unzipped the bag and ran his fingers through the stacks of cash, testing their texture, feeling the weight of this unexpected fortune. Then, he turned to Gi-hun, a crooked smile on his face.

"Well… this covers your debt for the month." He stood up, dusting off his hands, satisfied. "The rest… will pay for my silence. And for my men’s silence. After all, we wouldn’t want the police finding out you killed this guy, would we?"

The accusation hit like a punch to the gut.

Gi-hun blinked, feeling the ground tremble beneath him. He tried to protest, but he couldn’t. The words simply wouldn’t come.

He wanted to scream that he wasn’t the killer.

He wanted to point into the darkness and say the real culprit was still there, hiding, watching. And who could appear at any moment to end their lives.

But what good would it do?

Those men were so distracted by the sight of the bills that any attempt to make them stop would only make him look more guilty. Kim and his men had already decided. He was guilty. And any attempt to deny it would only make things worse.

His fingers twitched, brushing against the few bills still clutched in his hand. For a moment, he thought about taking them. Just a few. A small consolation for the hell he had just lived through.

But he couldn’t.

He knew where that money came from. He knew what it represented.

And in that instant, all Gi-hun wanted was to leave.

To turn his back on that alley.

And to hope, with every fiber of his being, that this was all just a nightmare, and he would wake up at any moment.

But deep down, as he felt the blood stain his clothes, the putrid smell invades his nostrils, and watched those men take the bag of money away, he knew.

This was far from over.

"Then, what you're telling me is that a guy you didn't see, in a place you don't remember, chopped a man's head off with an axe?"

The detective's voice thundered in the small interrogation room of the Seoul police station.

Gi-hun swallowed hard.

The four walls, painted in a lifeless gray, seemed to close in around him. The air was heavy, thick with the smell of cold coffee and frustration. The mirrored wall beside him reflected his pale, exhausted face—or perhaps it only reflected the eyes of someone watching from the other side, waiting for him to betray himself with a gesture, a wrong word.

The detective in front of him, impatient and with his arms crossed, didn't seem willing to believe a single word of what he said.

And to be honest, Gi-hun wouldn’t believe it either if he were on the other side of that table.

After what happened—after the grotesque scene in the alley, with blood spread like red paint on the ground, he did what any sane person would do once he had enough strength to do it.

He called the police.

But no matter how much he tried to explain what had happened, his words sounded disjointed, even to himself. It was as if he was telling a delirium, a nightmare from someone who had lost touch with reality. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know how he had gotten there. He only knew that a man was dead, cut in half, and he witnessed the crime.

It took nearly half an hour for an officer to finally find him in the alley. And when they arrived, instead of rescuing him from that hell, they handcuffed him and dragged him into the patrol car like any other criminal.

Since then, time has become a blur.

He was interrogated at first, but as soon as the police realized they wouldn't be able to get a confession from a man who couldn’t even speak properly, they put him in a cell. He spent hours in that tiny cubicle, watching as the first rays of sunlight peek through the small window. There was an old mattress in the corner, and no matter how much he wanted to sleep, the smell of the place, the hardness of the floor beneath him, and the memory of the metallic taste of blood in his mouth made it impossible. They—fortunately—gave him a change of clothes since his were so soaked in blood that one wash probably wouldn’t be enough.

Thinking that time alone would make him open his mouth, they put him in the room again. Now, he sat before the detective, feeling the weight of suspicion crushing him. At least this time, he could defend himself.

"You were caught red-handed." The detective placed his hands on the table, leaning closer. "The best thing you can do is confess."

Gi-hun blinked. Confess? He let out an incredulous laugh. Short, dry. Why would he confess to something he didn’t do?

"I already said. It wasn’t me." His voice sounded weaker than he would’ve liked. "Someone appeared out of nowhere. He... he killed that guy. I just—"

"Then who was he?" The detective interrupted; his voice sharp as a blade. "Why would he kill this man? Why an axe? You’re trying to make me believe that some random psychopath killed a guy in front of you and then walked away like nothing happened? This doesn’t make sense."

Gi-hun ran his hands over his face, feeling exhaustion spread like poison through his veins.

It didn’t matter how many times he repeated it.

It didn’t matter if he swore until he lost his voice.

Just like the loan sharks, they had already decided. He was guilty.

He wanted to leave. Go home. Forget that day ever existed.

He wanted anything, or anyone to get him out of that suffocating room.

Anyone. Anyone—

"That’s enough, Detective Park."

The voice cut through the air like a blade.

The detective froze.

Gi-hun raised his head.

Someone new had entered. And the unfamiliar voice filled the room

He wasn’t addressing him, but rather Detective Park. Still, it was enough to pull Gi-hun out of his trance and make him lift his eyes to the figure who had just entered.

The first thing he noticed was the brown trench coat, followed by the matching tie. Then, his eyes moved down to the perfectly fitted black pants, held up by a well-polished belt. But none of that mattered anymore when he met the man's gaze.

Penetrating eyes.

The expression was firm, but unlike Park, it didn’t seem laden with hostility. There was a certain warmth there—or maybe it was just Gi-hun’s desperation making him see kindness where there was none.

"This case doesn't concern you, Detective Hwang."

Park's irritated voice broke the silence. He abruptly stood up, trying to assert himself over the newcomer.

Hwang, however, didn’t even blink.

He simply turned slowly to face Park, scanning him from head to toe. His perfectly combed hair and neatly pressed clothes contrasted sharply with the disheveled appearance of the detective who had spent the night trying to extract a confession from Gi-hun.

Park stepped back at a pace.

Instinctively.

He knew he had lost the starring contest before it even began.

"This man is the main suspect in my case." He laughed awkwardly, trying to mask his own embarrassment. "So, if I were you, I’d stop bothering us and get lost.”

Hwang kept his gaze at him for a moment. Then, he smiled faintly.

But before he could respond, another voice came from behind him.

"Actually, he's the main witness in our case."

A younger man stepped forward from the doorway. His outfit wasn’t as elegant as Hwang’s, but still well-put-together. Without hesitation, he walked up to Park and shoved a stack of papers against his chest. The impact caused him to take an involuntary step backward.

"What’s this?" Park growled.

"A list of bank transactions from Mr. Lee Myung-gi, the victim found yesterday." Hwang replied, clearly enjoying the bewildered expression on his colleague’s face.

"When the hell did you get this?"

"The autopsy results came out an hour ago." The younger detective intervened. "You’d know that if you weren't so busy hassling the witness."

Park clenched his fists. "Jun-ho, you bastard."

He lunged forward, grabbing this Jun-ho guy by the coattails, but he didn’t budge. Hwang, however, raised an arm between the two, separating them before the fight could escalate.

"Pay attention." His voice sliced through the tension. "We analyzed Mr. Myung-gi’s bank account and found some interesting cash flow in recent months."

He paused dramatically before continuing:

"Four months before his death, Myung-gi deposited around 3.33 billion wons in a single day."

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier.

Gi-hun let out an audible sigh.

That wasn’t just money. There was a lot of money. Enough to pay off his debts multiple times. Maybe even enough to buy an island.

Park also seemed surprised, annoyed that he hadn’t been the first to have this information.

"An interesting fact, considering Myung-gi had been arrested a few days before this transaction for tax evasion." Hwang continued, adjusting the sleeve of his overcoat slightly. "In the following months, he spent his money in every possible way. Properties in Busan, luxury clothes, brand-name watches, cryptocurrencies..."

Park scoffed. "So what? The guy got lucky in life. What does this have to do with the murder?"

Jun-ho turned to him with a look of pure disdain, as if asking whether he was really this stupid or just pretending to be.

Hwang ignored him and turned his attention back to Gi-hun.

"Myung-gi finally got everything he wanted. He was on top of the world, just to be killed like that in some random alley." He tilted his head slightly. "So, I wonder: who would kill someone like that?"

The question was rhetorical.

But before he could stop himself, Gi-hun murmured:

"The Taker."

It came out more like a whisper than a statement.

Still, Hwang smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Exactly." He settled into the chair that Park had occupied before, completely changing the dynamic in the room. As if from that moment on, he was the one directing the investigation.

"At the crime scene, there were notes scattered around the body." He continued. "This reinforces the importance of money in this case."

Park rolled his eyes. "You’ve got to be kidding. You’re really suggesting this is the work of that serial killer?"

Hwang leaned slightly forward.

"I don’t just think so, I’m sure of it."

The silence that followed was overwhelming.

“Or perhaps you’re suggesting that this man right here is the infamous serial killer we had been searching for years?”

Park swallowed hard, embarrassed, and Gi-hun didn't even feel offended by the statement, but rather happy to not being accused.

"The modus operandi is identical to what we've analyzed in recent years." His voice was precise, cutting. "Gifting money to the victim, having they spent all their cash and just so that the moment greed went to their heads, clouding their thoughts, he would end their lives, easy like that. It was meant to be another perfect crime."

He paused.

"The only difference..." His gaze pierced Gi-hun. "Is that this time, he was seen. Which leads us to believe he’ll come back to finish the job."

Gi-hun’s blood ran cold.

The air seemed to leave his body, and his heart pounded in his chest.

Hwang didn’t take his eyes off him for a second.

"So, tell me, Mr. Seong Gi-hun."

His voice was almost a whisper now.

"What really happened that night?"

Chapter Text

"What really happened that night?"

The question lingered in the air, but Gi-hun could barely absorb it. His mind was chaos, overwhelmed by crushing emotions. He blinked a few times, trying to focus.

Finishing the job?

What does that mean?

Detective Hwang seemed to notice his distress. His serious expression softened slightly, revealing a gentler, almost concerned look.

"Let's start from the beginning," he said, leaning back in his chair with calculated calm. "My name is Hwang In-ho, detective of the First Police Station of Seoul. You can call me In-ho."

The measured way he introduced himself gave Gi-hun time to process the words, and for some reason, that helped steady his racing heart. Something about the detective’s composed demeanor and firm voice made him feel that maybe—just maybe—he could trust him.

"This is my partner and brother, Hwang Jun-ho."

Jun-ho gave a subtle, respectful bow, to which Gi-hun hesitantly responded with a nod.

"We're not here to accuse you," In-ho continued. "We just want to understand what happened. What you saw."

The words were simple, yet Gi-hun couldn't bring himself to answer. From the moment he had set foot in the police station, he had repeated his story countless times to the other detective, who hadn't even bothered to believe him. What difference would it make now?

Hwang noticed his hesitation and, without pressuring him, leaned back slightly.

"You must be exhausted. It must have been a long night… Would you like some coffee?"

The offer caught him off guard. His instinct was to refuse, but before he even realized it, he was nodding. He had spent hours watching the other detective drink cup after cup of coffee, without anyone offering him so much as a sip. Deep down, he wanted one.

Hwang gave a small, knowing smile and made a subtle gesture to his brother. Jun-ho turned to Park, who was watching the scene with clear disdain.

"What? You expect me to serve coffee for you now? You think you’re in charge of me?" Park grumbled indignantly.

"You’re off the case, Detective Park. Why don’t you try being useful for once and bring the coffee?" Jun-ho retorted.

Park’s muscles tensed, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to curse. But realizing they wouldn’t engage in his provocation; he simply scoffed and left the room.

The moment the door closed; Hwang’s tone shifted.

"Now that we got rid of him, let’s get to the point."

Gi-hun’s brief moment of ease vanished. His shoulders were tense, and his lips trembled slightly. Still, he felt calmer without the loud, grumbling presence of the other detective.

He wanted to talk. Something in In-ho’s firm yet patient gaze told him he could tell them everything. At the same time, it seemed impossible. Because this time, it wasn’t just about clearing his name.

This time, he was afraid.

Hwang noticed.

"Take your time. If you need to stop, we’ll wait."

Jun-ho nodded silently.

"I know what you went through was traumatic," Hwang continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "But what you saw could help us save lives."

The words weighed on Gi-hun like an anchor. He took a deep breath.

Maybe… maybe it was time to tell the truth.

Gi-hun inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the detective’s reassuring words and organize the chaos in his mind.

"You are the first and only real witness we've had in this case since the beginning of the investigation," In-ho said. "That might be enough for us to finally track down and arrest this criminal once and for all."

The words, spoken with conviction and determination, calmed him. For the first time since he had arrived at the station, he felt like his voice actually mattered.

He decided to start from the beginning.

He spoke about the horse race, the theft, the chase, and, finally, the death he had witnessed. The investigators listened attentively, only interrupting to ask for details or clarify key points. At some point, Gi-hun realized that Jun-ho was holding a recorder, capturing every word.

Now, he was certain he was no longer a suspect. He was, in fact, a witness.

Even as he neared the end of his account, the detectives remained impassive. Not even during his description of the murder scene did they react excessively—only subtle nods of understanding.

It was Jun-ho who broke the silence.

"Everything matches what we already know about his method of operation. Even the murder weapon."

"The murder weapon?" Gi-hun frowned.

"Let’s just say he’s a fan of unconventional methods."

Gi-hun decided he didn’t want to know what "unconventional" meant. Instead, he took a sip of the coffee that Park had reluctantly brought moments earlier.

Across the table, In-ho interlocked his fingers, his thumbs rotating in a slow, rhythmic motion.

"All the victims were found the same way—mutilated and surrounded by a large sum of money. But this time, there were only a few bills."

He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Gi-hun, but the latter couldn’t help noticing the way his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration.

"You mentioned that there were other people in the alley besides the killer. What happened to the money?"

Gi-hun suddenly remembered Mr. Kim and his men. They had arrived just in time to scare off the shadowy figure—only to steal the money left behind and vanish into the dark night.

"That would explain the multiple bloody footprints found at the scene," Jun-ho observed. "But none of them are likely to belong to our suspect. He would never leave such obvious evidence behind."

In-ho agreed but didn't seem particularly surprised.

"So the loan sharks took the money..."

Gi-hun didn't respond. It didn't seem like In-ho was expecting confirmation—he was merely thinking out loud. The detective drummed his fingers on the table, lost in thought.

"Jun-ho, find them and seize the money. It should be classified as evidence."

“Leave it to me.” Jun-ho replies. “Should I arrest them on the spot? I mean, they did steal the money from the victim.”

“No, just let them go with a warning. Do you know where we could find them?”

Gi-hun provided the address of the company and a few possible locations where Mr. Kim might be. Wasting no time, Jun-ho left the room, leaving behind only the two adults, a recorder, and cups of lukewarm coffee.

He knew Mr. Kim wouldn't let 3 billion won go without a fight, but that was no longer his problem.

"He's a good kid, always very helpful."

In-ho commented without smiling, perhaps to lighten the mood, but something about the way he said it made Gi-hun realize the silent pride he felt for his brother. For some reason, that made him smile instead.

Being an only child, he never had to share toys or his mother’s attention, but he had always admired how siblings seemed willing to do anything for each other. That was exactly the feeling he got watching those two.

"Mr. Seong."

"Ah, please, since you insist that I call you by your first name, you can just call me Gi-hun too."

"Mr. Gi-hun."

He laughed. For someone who seemed so inflexible about formalities, this was already progress. In-ho seemed mildly amused, even if his expression didn’t fully show it.

"Before we wrap this up, I have one last question. This might sound a bit accusatory, but I have to ask." In-ho paused for a moment, his eyes locked on Gi-hun’s. "Did you, by any chance, take some of the money as well?"

Gi-hun blinked, surprised. If Detective Park had been the one asking, it would have certainly sounded like an accusation. But now… now he knew his words wouldn’t be used against him.

Without fear, he answered.

"At first, I wanted to take the money. After a shitty day like that, even fifty thousand won could’ve helped in some way." He let out a small, embarrassed laugh at his own misery. He didn’t want it to sound like a complaint, but In-ho listened in silence, without judgment, allowing him to continue. "But once I understood where that money came from… what it represented… I just couldn’t."

"Why?"

The question caught him off guard. But this time, he didn’t need to think much.

"Because it wasn’t mine."

For a brief moment, In-ho’s eyes widened slightly before returning to their usual neutral tone. He didn’t say anything else. He simply paused the recorder and slipped it into the pocket of his overcoat.

"Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Seong Gi-hun. The information you provided will be of great help." He stood up from his chair, formally as always. "We have no further reason to keep you here, so you are free to go."

Gi-hun stood up as well, instinctively.

"Any other questions will be off the record. If we need anything else, we’ll get in touch."

They were supposed to be done, yet for some reason, Gi-hun felt like their conversation wasn’t quite over.

In-ho extended his hand toward him, a small, warm smile forming on his lips. Gi-hun took it, returning the gesture with a subtle smile of his own. The two of them left the room and headed toward the reception, where Gi-hun’s belongings had already been set aside for him.

"When Detective Park brought you in as a murder suspect, we had to send your phone for forensic analysis. I hope you don’t mind them going through it." In-ho’s voice was low, just enough to keep the grumpy detective—who was still in the room—from noticing they were talking about him.

Gi-hun sighed. "Don’t worry. There’s nothing interesting to see there."

It was a relief, but at the same time, a depressing thought.

As they walked toward the exit, Gi-hun felt an almost instinctive urge to smoke. As if reading his mind, In-ho pulled a lighter from his pocket and handed it to him.

Accepting it gratefully, Gi-hun lit a cigarette he had with him and took a deep drag. Before returning the lighter, he offered a cigarette to the detective, who refused with a slight nod.

"Looks like you parked far away," In-ho commented, glancing at the keys in his hand. "Need a ride?"

Gi-hun hesitated. He didn’t want to take advantage of the detective’s kindness—especially when there were certainly more urgent matters to deal with, given the appearance of yet another victim. But he also had no money for a taxi. In the end, he had no choice but to accept.

The walk to the car was short. Gi-hun made sure to put out his cigarette and toss it in the trash before getting in. The engine purred smoothly as In-ho started it. A sweet scent of cinnamon filled the air, coming from a small air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

Gi-hun wanted to forget all of this and move on with his life. But as the city blurred past him, he knew that, somehow, he was still trapped in this case.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the questions burning in his mind. The killer. The victim. Everything felt like a puzzle with its pieces scattered before him—yet he couldn’t put them together. But he wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t a detective. He was just a witness.

"Go ahead."

In-ho’s voice broke the silence, pulling Gi-hun out of his thoughts. He blinked, surprised, turning his attention back to the detective.

"There’s no harm in wanting to know," In-ho continued, his eyes still fixed on the road. "It’s natural."

Gi-hun licked his lips, hesitantly. Out of all the questions hammering in his mind, one stood out. Something that had unsettled him ever since In-ho mentioned it, he feared learning the answer, but he had to.

"What you said earlier… about him coming back to finish the job..." His own voice trembled. He wanted to know. Even if the truth was something he wasn’t ready to hear. "What did you mean by that?"

In-ho lowered his gaze slightly, stealing a quick glance in his direction. The gesture—subtle but heavy with meaning—made his expression seem even more serious. Tension settled in Gi-hun’s body as an automatic reflex.

"It’s just a possibility, so don’t get too alarmed."

But the effect was the exact opposite. His heart pounded.

"There’s a chance he might come after you."

Gi-hun felt the air leave his lungs.

"Why?"

"Because you saw him."

The words hung in the air like a sentence.

"Even if you didn’t see his face, even if you have nothing that could identify him… you were there. And for killers like him, that might be reason enough to want you dead."

A heavy silence fell between them.

Gi-hun’s first instinct was to laugh at his own terrible luck. But he held back. There was nothing funny about this.

The artificial scent of cinnamon filled the car, making the air feel even more stifling. Noticing this, In-ho cracked the window open, allowing the wind to dissipate some of the oppression.

Before Gi-hun could completely spiral into panic, In-ho spoke again.

"Like I said, Gi-hun, it’s just a possibility. I’m not saying he will come after you."

That didn’t help much. But he should’ve been prepared for this answer, it was his own question, after all. Still, he preferred to know the truth rather than live in ignorance.

"You called me by my first name."

The change of subject was unintentional, but welcome. Even though he was terrified at the thought of a serial killer targeting him, he couldn’t help but notice the absence of formality in the detective’s voice.

"Well, I couldn’t be that casual in the official police recording," In-ho replied, his eyes still on the road. "But since we’re no longer at the station, I figured it wouldn’t be a problem."

As the car stopped at a red light, he turned to look at Gi-hun.

"Hope you don’t mind."

"No, don’t worry." He smiled, trying to ease his own tension. "It just caught me off guard, that’s all."

In-ho returned the smile before accelerating again.

The winding streets grew narrower as they neared their destination. The detective parked across the street, near a small bar, where an elderly woman was sweeping the ground with a worn-out broom.

As soon as Gi-hun got out of the car, the woman's gaze instantly shifted to a mix of fury and indignation.

"You!"

Before he could react, the woman lunged forward, wielding her broom as if it were a sword.

"You bastard! You ran off without paying your bill yesterday, didn’t you?!"

Gi-hun’s eyes widened.

"I-I—"

"You and your friend left a tab of almost thirty-five thousand won and had no intention of paying, huh?! I hope you brought the money, or I swear you’re not leaving here without a proper beating!"

To emphasize her threat, the woman landed a solid smack on his arm.

"Ah, ma’am, calm down! I… I can explain!" Gi-hun stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. The truth was, he had no way to pay—his wallet had been stolen. But before he could stammer out any excuse, In-ho stepped in.

With all the calm in the world, he pulled a fifty-thousand-won bill from his pocket and handed it to the woman.

"Here you go, ma’am." His voice was polished, almost diplomatic. "My friend had some urgent matters and had to leave in a hurry last night. Keep the change as an apology for the trouble."

He gave a slight bow, and Gi-hun quickly imitated the gesture.

The woman took the money, still huffing but satisfied.

"Hmph. Just don’t do it again." She shot Gi-hun one last sharp look before heading back inside the restaurant.

The brief silence between him and In-ho was soon broken by an awkward laugh.

"Thank you very much, In-ho." Gi-hun rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "But you didn’t have to do that."

"Don’t thank me just yet."

Gi-hun frowned.

"That bill was among your belongings from last night. You forgot to take it, but I figured you might need it."

For a moment, he was speechless. Then, he laughed, albeit a bit sheepishly. In-ho also seemed amused by the situation.

He knew that money had actually belonged to the victim. But he chose not to comment. More complications were the last thing he needed.

As he turned, he saw his car parked just ahead. It didn’t look like it had been broken into or tampered with, which was a relief—he didn’t have insurance.

The sound of the alarm unlocking marked their farewell.

It was only then that he realized: he didn’t want to say goodbye.

There was something unsettling about the idea of being alone. Something that went beyond the fear of a killer on the loose. But in the end, he couldn’t keep the detective there with him. In-ho had work to do. And he… well, he needed to move on with his life.

"Go home and get some rest," In-ho advised, pulling his wallet from his pocket. "If you have trouble sleeping, I suggest buying some medicine. Your body needs to recover."

Before Gi-hun could respond, the detective pulled out another fifty-thousand-won bill and held it out to him.

Gi-hun frowned.

"I can’t accept that. It’s not wise to spend so much money on strangers."

In-ho considered this for a moment, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. He observed the man in front of him—someone who, despite having nothing, still refused to take something he didn’t feel he deserved.

Without insisting, he put the money back in his pocket.

"Alright." His smile faded, but his voice softened. "But just so you know, you’re not just a stranger."

Gi-hun blinked.

"You’re my witness."

They locked their eyes for a moment. Just a second, but one that seemed to stretch far longer.

Then, In-ho held out a brown card. A number scribbled by hand.

"If you need anything, call me." He took a step back, offering a slight smirk. "Have a good day, Mr. Seong Gi-hun."

And with that, he walked away.

Gi-hun watched as he got into his car and disappeared down the dusty street.

Sighing, he slipped the card into his pocket and turned toward his own car.

He thought about calling Jung-bae or any other friend, but… it was eight in the morning on a Saturday. He didn’t want to bother anyone so early.

That left him with only one option: drive somewhere—anywhere but here.

Determined, Gi-hun drove home, eager for the long-awaited shower that, in some way, symbolized a fresh start after everything he had been through. Even though he had changed clothes at the police station, he could still feel the unpleasant smell of sweat clinging to his hair and the sticky sensation of dried blood under his nails constant reminder of what he had witnessed. It was only now that he realized just how hungry he was, as if his body had finally started reclaiming the basic needs he had neglected since the night before.

The drive back was short, and without delay, he discarded his clothes and let the cold-water cascade over his skin, the sharp temperature shock clearing his clouded mind. The freezing sensation not only washed away the visible dirt but also helped to dissolve some of the tension still weighing on his shoulders.

After the shower, he dug into the leftovers forgotten in his fridge, chewing mechanically as he plugged his phone into the charger, finally restoring some of the functionality that the dead battery had denied him. As he unlocked the screen, a notification made his chest tighten slightly—a message from Ga-yeong.

"Dad?"

That was all she had written, just a few hours earlier. However, what truly caught his attention was the second message:

"Why did you delete your message?"

He hesitated, feeling a faint knot form in his throat. He didn’t like lying to her, but the truth seemed like too heavy a burden to share. Taking a deep breath, he typed a simple, evasive response.

"It was nothing, sweetheart. I sent something by mistake."

He sent the message and put the phone aside, choosing not to prolong the conversation. It wasn’t the right time to drag her into his problems. But even as he focused on finishing his meal, he couldn’t ignore the lingering discomfort in his chest.

With his hunger sated and his mind somewhat more organized, he realized there were practical matters to deal with. He needed to cancel his stolen card immediately and request a new one, but before that, he had to get some cash to tide him over for the next few days. He searched the house until he found an old wallet to use temporarily, deciding to deal with replacing his lost documents later. The most urgent task now was securing his finances before that little thief drained the last of his credit.

As he stepped outside, surveying the small chaos he had left behind in his apartment, he realized it might be time to clean up. His home reflected his own life—a mess of things out of place, waiting to be put back together. The thought led him to consider something that hadn’t crossed his mind in a long time: finding a job. Not just some temporary gig, but something stable—something that would actually help him get back on track. It was strange how a near-death experience could shift a person’s entire perspective.

He decided that if this sudden urge to put his life in order persisted until Monday, he would dig out his old résumé and try to do something about it.

The next few hours were spent running quick errands, securing just enough money to cover his immediate needs. However, any cash he managed to earn was quickly swallowed up by refueling his car, which was dangerously close to running empty. The delay at the gas station meant he arrived at the bank much later than planned, forcing him to wait in an agonizingly long line before he was finally attended to.

By the time he stepped out of the bank, having been promised a new card within three business days, the sky was already painted in shades of orange and pink, signaling the onset of evening. He walked toward his car, debating whether he should call Jung-bae. Maybe it would be good to tell him about the insane events of the past few hours—to share the absurdity of it all and seek a little support.

But as he picked up his phone, he hesitated.

The shame of it all—the mugging, the chase, the humiliation—still burned in his pride, making him reluctant to relive it out loud.

It was strange. He should already be used to having his decisions criticized—his ex-wife had done it for years. Yet, over time, he had learned that it was easier to hide his failures than to face them.

His eyes fell upon the small brown card resting on the dashboard. The hastily scribbled number belonged to Detective In-ho. Gi-hun wasn’t sure if he should save it in his phone or simply ignore it. Deep down, he hoped he’d never need to use it, but the presence of that small piece of paper felt like a silent reminder that he wasn’t completely alone. Sighing, he tucked the card into his pocket and started the car, determined to leave behind—at least for a few hours—the weight that situation had placed on his shoulders.

As he drove, he fought the urge to turn on the radio, knowing that the crime show was probably already covering the death of The Taker’s seventh victim. The thought made him shiver. His involvement in all of this was greater than he would have liked, but as much as curiosity gnawed at him, he knew that, for the sake of his own sanity, it was best to stay away from the news.

Before going home and surrendering to his accumulated exhaustion, he decided to follow the detective’s advice and buy something to help him sleep. He didn’t trust his own ability to simply close his eyes and drift off—not after witnessing, in horrifying clarity, a man’s head being split open. The image still lingered in his mind, persistent and disturbing, as if burned into his retinas. Without giving it too much thought, he pulled into the first pharmacy he found and asked the attendant for the cheapest sleeping aid that was still strong enough to be effective.

As the pharmacist stepped away to retrieve the order from the back of the store, Gi-hun took a moment to observe his surroundings. The pharmacy had a familiar atmosphere, clearly a small neighborhood business, and at that hour, it was nearly empty. Besides him, only one other man occupied the space, seemingly focused on the shelf of generic painkillers.

His gaze drifted casually over the figure in front of him, and for a moment, something about the man’s silhouette struck him as oddly familiar. The haircut, the slight forward curve of his shoulders… But it was only when he caught a glimpse of his profile and noticed the thin frame of his glasses that the memory snapped into place with undeniable clarity.

“Cho Sang-woo?”

The man flinched at the sound of his name, as if it were a secret he hadn’t expected to be revealed there. When he turned to face him, any lingering doubt vanished—it was, without a shadow of a doubt, his old childhood friend.

“It’s been so long, Sang-woo! How have you been?” The surprise quickly gave way to a genuine smile on Gi-hun’s lips, a mix of nostalgia and joy at seeing such a familiar face.

It had been years since they had last seen each other, and though life had taken them down very different paths, it was still comforting to find someone who had once been a part of his past.

“Gi-hun…” The other, however, seemed unsure of how to react. His eyes studied Gi-hun cautiously, his lips pressing into a hesitant line. “Why are you here?”

The question, asked in an almost defensive tone, caught Gi-hun slightly off guard, but he quickly responded.

“Oh, well… I live nearby. Just came to grab something for insomnia—the past few days have been crazy.” He chuckled, gesturing absentmindedly toward the counter where the pharmacist was still absent. “And you? What are you doing here? I thought you were working overseas.”

For a brief moment, Sang-woo seemed to withdraw even further, his expression turning unreadable. “Who told you that?”

Gi-hun blinked, not understanding the reason for the question.

“Your mother,” he explained naturally. “Our mothers were always very close, and when mine passed away, Mrs. Cho attended the funeral. We talked a bit back then.”

Sang-woo looked surprised, averting his gaze for a moment. “I had no idea…” he murmured, seeming genuinely affected by the information.

“It’s okay, it’s been a few years.” Gi-hun shrugged. As much as he missed his mother, he had learned to cope with her absence over time.

There was a brief silence between them before Sang-woo spoke again, his voice quieter and more controlled. “If you happen to see my mother, could you not mention that you saw me here?”

The request made Gi-hun frown in confusion.

“Why?”

“The company sent me on a short business trip, but I won’t have time to visit her, and I don’t want her to worry.”

For a moment, Gi-hun just watched him. Something about his friend’s demeanor felt off, different from the Sang-woo he had known—the brilliant, proud Ssangmun kid who had graduated with honors in business administration and had a promising career ahead of him. The man standing before him was more reserved, reclusive, and there was a subtle tension in his shoulders, as if he were always ready to flee. The feeling was strange, almost unsettling, but Gi-hun wasn’t the type to pry into others’ problems, at least, not always.

“Oh, sure, don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you.” Sang-woo nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. The conversation seemed to end there.

At that moment, the pharmacist returned, placing a small package of medicine on the counter. The price was stamped on the label, and Gi-hun nearly grimaced—it was expensive, but there wasn’t much he could do. The attendant explained that if he needed something stronger, he would require a prescription but assured him that this should be enough. He certainly hoped so.

As he paid for his purchase and prepared to leave, he cast one last glance at Sang-woo, who was still standing in front of the shelf, looking indecisive about what he wanted, even though his mind seemed elsewhere. A sudden idea crossed Gi-hun’s mind.

“Hey, Sang-woo.”

The other man immediately turned to him.

“I know you must be busy with work, but if you have some time, we should go out for a drink. You know, like old times.”

Adulthood had driven them apart, sending them in different directions, but Gi-hun felt that nothing prevented them from reconnecting. Seeing his old friend there, a strong sense of nostalgia washed over him, as if, for a brief moment, he could remember who they were before the world had shaped them in such different ways.

Sang-woo, however, didn’t respond immediately, and Gi-hun, persistent, added:

“My number’s still the same, in case you still have it. Send me a message sometime.”

Sang-woo seemed to consider it for a moment.

“Sure, I’ll let you know if I can.” His smile was brief, disappearing just as quickly.

Even so, Gi-hun was satisfied. He left the pharmacy with an unexpected feeling of lightness, almost forgetting—if only for a moment—the countless problems that haunted him.

In the car, as he placed the medicine in the glove compartment, a thought crossed his mind—he hadn’t noticed a wedding ring on Sang-woo’s finger. The next time they met, he would have to ask about his love life; after all, there were many years to catch up on. Not that his own romantic life was much better—since his divorce, he had gone on very few dates, and at his age, with his financial situation, it was hard to imagine that any woman would truly want to stay by his side. But, deep down, that didn’t concern him much.

For now, he just wanted to sleep. Tomorrow, he will face the aftermath of the past few days and deal with the consequences of the unusual night he had lived.

Cold was not a word that usually described the cozy atmosphere of his home.

Though small, the place where he had grown up was filled with memories—every corner a reflection of times past. The walls, adorned with photos of happy moments, made Gi-hun smile automatically the moment he stepped inside, evoking childhood memories, memories of his mother. The shelf holding the collection of vintage plates she had gathered over the years—one of the few decorative pieces he had chosen to keep—was something that, no matter how valuable, he would never sell, no matter how much his debts pressed him.

The afternoon light streamed through the kitchen window, warming the space to the point of making it unbearable to stay there, especially in the heat of the past few days. Yet, the moment he stepped inside, a chill ran down his spine, as if something were out of place, though he couldn't quite pinpoint what.

With hesitant steps, he scanned his surroundings before removing his shoes—something he had never done before. The dim lighting made it difficult to see beyond the living room, and even after turning on the light, the discomfort did not fade. He tried to convince himself that it was just his mind, influenced by fear, creating a sense of unease after everything he had witnessed. But as an adult, he knew he shouldn't be afraid of the dark. His mother would certainly laugh at him if she were there. Clinging to that thought, he tried to steady his mind and moved toward the kitchen, insisting that everything was fine.

Gi-hun poured himself a glass of water, only to realize how much his hands were shaking. His clenched grip around the glass made him decide that now was the perfect moment to take the medicine. The bitter taste spread across his tongue, and he took a deep breath, trying to ignore the shiver that continued to creep down his neck. He set the glass in the sink and rubbed his face, feeling the cold sweat gathering on his forehead. He hoped the effects would kick in quickly, that sleep would spare him from the unsettling feelings haunting him. The silence in the house felt heavier, as if every corner concealed an invisible presence.

His eyes roamed the room, searching for any sign that something was out of place. The plate shelf remained intact, the framed photos still aligned. But something was there—an unease he couldn't quite identify. It was a primal instinct, an unsettling sensation, as if something were watching him.

Then he heard it.

A faint creak from the hallway sent his heart racing. His body reacted before his mind could fully process what was happening. He turned sharply, eyes locked on the direction of the sound, feet rooted to the floor as if paralyzed. But there was nothing. Only shadows shifting under the dim light, and the echo of his own rapid breathing.

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to leave, but he insisted it was nothing more than his subconscious playing tricks on him—that he just needed to sleep.

But something was wrong. He knew it.

That unease wasn’t just paranoia. Something had changed in this house.

That’s when he saw it.

A 50,000-won bill lay near the bedroom doorway, as if deliberately placed there. Gi-hun frowned. He would never leave money lying around—especially money he didn’t have.

A sudden sense of alertness took hold of him as he stepped closer, crouching to pick up the bill. His fingers barely brushed the paper when his eyes caught something further ahead.

There was more.

Bills, scattered across the floor, forming a trail leading him to the bed.

His stomach churned. The air grew heavy, dense, as if the very atmosphere was trying to suffocate him. His body froze for a moment, torn between the instinct to flee and the desperate need to understand what was happening.

Step by step, he followed the trail of bills, each one feeling less like a gift and more like a silent warning.

When he reached the bed, he hesitated. Something was wrong. The mattress looked… different, lower than it should be. A shiver ran down his spine. Slowly, he extended his hand, his fingers trembling as they pressed against the surface.

It wasn’t soft fabric that met his touch—it was something firm, rigid, unmistakable.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. He swallowed dryly, bracing himself, before gripping the blanket and pulling it back.

The blood in his veins turned to ice.

Instead of a mattress, an organized stack of 50,000-won bills lay beneath the covers. A sea of money, meticulously arranged, as if someone had replaced his bed with it.

Gi-hun’s mind reeled. His breath came in short, erratic gasps. This didn’t make sense. Who would do this? Why?

Then, like a gunshot, the thought exploded in his mind.

He gives the victim everything they desire.

No.

Four months before his death, Myung-gi deposited approximately 3.33 billion won in a single day.

No.

This time, the killer was seen. Which means he will return to finish the job.

His entire body shuddered. He staggered backward, nearly tripping over himself, as if just being close to the money was a physical threat. Panic surged through him like a tidal wave.

It couldn’t be.

But everything pointed to one inescapable truth.

Someone had been here.

Or worse—the same man he had seen murder someone had been inside his home.

A sickening wave of nausea hit him. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his feet felt cemented to the floor. His eyes darted around the room, expecting a shadow to emerge from the darkness, a figure stepping forward to end this torment. But he knew—he understood with terrifying certainty—that this wasn’t the killer’s way.

No.

This was just a message.

A warning that he was next.

With unsteady breaths and shaking fingers gripping his phone like a lifeline, he ignored the weak effects of the sleeping pill still lingering in his system.

Without hesitation, he dialed the only number that could help him.

The brown card, once insignificant, had never felt more reassuring.

Chapter Text

"Apparently, whoever broke in has been gone for quite some time."

Minutes after the call, Gi-hun’s house was swarmed with police officers. Men moved in and out, securing the perimeter, while curious neighbors peeked through curtains and gates, whispering among themselves. Gi-hun knew their minds were buzzing with speculation—after all, it wasn’t every day that police cars surrounded the home of an ordinary resident. Yet, he paid them no attention. His head was too much of a mess to worry about the inquisitive looks around him.

In-ho’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Drink."

The detective handed him a cup, and the scent rising from the steaming liquid was not coffee. His neatly gelled hair had fallen slightly over his eyes, giving him a younger, almost casual appearance.

Reluctantly, Gi-hun accepted the cup and took a sip. He couldn’t quite place what kind of tea it was, but the calming effect was immediate—and God knew how much he needed it.

He sat on the hood of the car, watching the masked forensic specialists enter his home, taking photos, collecting samples, documenting everything they deemed relevant. On a normal day, he would’ve hated this invasion of his space. But after what he had found inside, he was grateful not to be alone anymore.

Even with the tea warming his hands, the cold sensation wouldn’t leave him.

After all, how had someone broken into his house, taken his mattress, and replaced it with stacks of banknotes without anyone noticing? The mere thought that a serial killer not only knew where he lived but had moved around his home unnoticed was far too disturbing. He wanted to blame the lack of security cameras in his poorer neighborhood, but… what about the neighbors? How could none of them notice anything?

In-ho sat beside him but kept a respectful distance. Maybe he understood that Gi-hun was at his limit and didn’t want to overstep.

"Forensics is almost done with the analysis," the detective said, his voice ever composed. "But as a precaution, we should avoid disturbing the crime scene."

Crime scene.

Those words hit him like a punch to the stomach.

"We’ll keep the area sealed off for now and maintain surveillance. So, it would be best if you had somewhere else to stay for the night." In-ho glanced at him. "Do you have any relatives or friends you can call? A wife?"

"Ah… I’m divorced."

"Friends?"

Gi-hun opened his mouth to answer but hesitated.

The only person who would take him in without question was Jung-bae. But the thought of disturbing him—of involving his family in this—bothered him more than it should.

In-ho seemed to notice his hesitation and quickly added.

"If necessary, we can arrange a hotel with police escort. We still don’t know what the intruder wants, but if he’s nearby, you should have an officer with you."

Gi-hun lowered his gaze.

"It was him, wasn’t it?"

He felt the weight of In-ho’s stare.

"The Taker."

The silence between them was heavy.

"This wasn’t just a break-in. It was a warning." His voice faltered. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to say it out loud. "A warning that… I’m the next victim."

He heard In-ho take a deep breath, as if carefully considering his next words.

"We can’t be certain of his intentions yet, but to prevent any—"

"Why?" Gi-hun interrupted, lifting his head suddenly.

In-ho raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Why me? Why this?" Gi-hun raged. "Why give all that money to someone just to kill them afterward? I don’t understand…"

His voice, filled with anger and desperation, gradually faded under the detective’s calm gaze. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout about how absurd all of this was. He wanted to say he didn’t deserve to be in this situation. He wanted to admit he was terrified.

But In-ho just looked at him, unwavering. Without judgment.

And suddenly, Gi-hun realized.

The detective had seen this before. He had dealt with other victims who had lived through similar nightmares, probably worse. Working in the homicide division wasn’t a job for the weak-minded.

And at that moment, In-ho’s steady gaze was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

For a fleeting second, Gi-hun felt that someone truly understood what he had been through. And instead of chastising him for his endless complaints, In-ho simply stayed there, listening to him pour out all his frustrations without interruption—just like he had during the interrogation. Only when Gi-hun started to calm down did In-ho shift his gaze toward the starless sky.

"If we really knew what he was thinking, we wouldn’t be taking this long to catch him."

The detective’s voice carried a self-critical tone that made Gi-hun glance up at him. In the dim light of the night, In-ho’s profile looked… melancholic.

"Our best theory is that he’s trying to prove something."

"Prove something?" Gi-hun asked, intrigued.

"The money. It’s a test to see how far people will go if they receive an absurd amount."

In-ho turned to meet his gaze. This time, his expression was empty, almost impersonal, as if explaining a simple mathematical formula—but there was something deeply unsettling about it.

"The money clearly doesn’t belong to them, but since most of the targets are people in financial trouble, it’s almost impossible for them not to spend at least some of it to ease their struggles. However, once they realize there are no consequences and that it gives them power, they become greedy. And that’s when, after proving that everyone is the same when it comes to money, he kills them."

They locked their eyes. The rest of the world seemed to disappear around them.

The explanation left a bitter taste in Gi-hun’s mouth. It was a ridiculous reason to kill someone. But then again, was there ever a justifiable reason to commit murder?

Even in the face of such a grim revelation, something that, apparently, involved him directly now, he couldn’t help but notice how the dim light of the night made In-ho’s expression even more enigmatic. Confused, Gi-hun caught himself thinking that the detective looked… strangely attractive at that moment. So much so that—

"Ah, the old tale of the oppressed dreaming of becoming the oppressor."

The sudden voice shattered the silence, breaking their eye contact. Both of them turned to face Jun-ho.

"Forensics has finished their analysis. No fingerprints, no hair, no recorded images. No one saw anything."

Gi-hun sighed. He wasn’t sure whether to blame the incompetence of the authorities or the cunning of the killer, who had somehow managed to carry a mattress out of his house, in broad daylight, without anyone noticing.

"And the money? Did they count it?" In-ho asked, standing up to approach his brother, who held a report.

"Yes. They estimated it based on the number of stacks." Jun-ho handed over the papers, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Approximately 4.56 billion won."

The sound of the number spoken out loud hit Gi-hun like a punch. He lost his balance, nearly jumping off the hood of the car.

"Y-you said 4 billion?!"

"It’s the largest amount he’s ever offered." In-ho’s expression darkened instantly as he scanned the reports. "This is bad."

He handed some of the papers back to Jun-ho with a heavy sigh.
“Call Officer Kang to escort Mr. Seong to a hotel. I’ll take over from here.”

Jun-ho nodded and walked away, leaving behind a Gi-hun who was even more confused and alarmed than before.

“What he said... is it true?” His voice came out low, almost hesitant. “There are 4 billion won inside my house?”

“Apparently, yes.” In-ho replied, giving him a look Gi-hun didn’t like one bit. “The money isn’t a warning; it’s a test. He wants to test you and prove he’s right once again.”

Gi-hun let out a nervous laugh at the absurdity of that statement.

“Test me? But how? Knowing what I know, it’s impossible for me to spend that money. Who in their right mind would use such dirty money if—”

“Be careful with your words.”

The subtle warning shouldn’t have sent a chill down his spine, but it did.

“You have no idea what could happen in someone's life to make them take drastic measures.”

Something in In-ho’s expression made Gi-hun wonder if he was speaking from personal experience. But this wasn’t the time to ask.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He agreed because he knew it was true. It wasn’t always just about greed—there were countless reasons why someone might choose the easy way out. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to collect the money and take it as evidence, right?”

In-ho’s shifting gaze between him and the papers in his hands said otherwise.

“The intruder left a message for you.” He said, extending a crumpled sheet. “We found it on the bedside table. You probably didn’t notice.”

Gi-hun’s heart sank even further. A message from The Taker. For him.

“Do you want to read it?”

In-ho didn’t seem convinced about offering the note, but Gi-hun knew he wouldn’t be able to rest without knowing what it said. With hesitant hands, he took the paper and stared at the letters cut from magazines and newspapers, pasted together to form a message.

Clever.

To the recipient of my generosity,

Once, in Venice, a merchant made a foolish deal. In exchange for gold, he offered nothing less than his own flesh as collateral. And when the time came to pay his debt, he discovered there was no mercy in his creditor’s eyes. A pound of flesh, no more, no less. That was the demand. That was what had to be taken.

Money. The purest of poisons, the most tempting of promises. It seduces, corrupts, and reveals the true face of those who touch it. Even the most righteous will find an excuse to justify the filth on their hands. And now, my dear, you are part of this experiment.

You have received my generosity, a sum that can change destinies. The question is not what you will do with it, but what it will do to you. Spend it or save it, multiply it or waste it, it doesn’t matter. In the end, it all comes down to the same principle that sealed the merchant’s fate.

If, by the end of the experiment, you cannot prove that money doesn’t change people, then I will also take what is owed to me. No more, no less. My pound of flesh.

Enjoy your fortune while you can.

Gi-hun let go of the paper, realizing he had been clutching it too tightly.

It seemed like a cruel joke, but every passing minute made it more real.

He had no idea what The Taker meant by this. Prove that money doesn’t change people? What did that even mean? The simple solution would be just not to spend it. That wouldn’t change him, would it?

His mind was buzzing with questions. So many that he almost didn’t catch In-ho’s words.

“On the other side of the page, he warns you not to inform the police about the money, but I suppose that no longer matters.”

Gi-hun lifted his gaze, feeling desperation spread through his body. If that lunatic knew he had already called the police, did that mean he was going to die soon? Panic surged back with full force, making his heart race.

“As a precaution, we’ll withdraw the team and analyze the evidence at the station. We’ll also leave just a few undercover officers behind in case he decided to come back.” In-ho explained, signaling to the forensics team passing by and instructing them to return to their vehicles. “We’ll leave everything as it was, as if we were never here. If the intruder doesn’t suspect our presence, that’s a win for us.”

“What? Why would you do that?” Gi-hun asked, stunned. They couldn’t just leave the money there, could they? How was he supposed to sleep under the same roof where a serial killer had left 4 billion won as a twisted gift?

“For now, it’s best to rest. We’ll cover the cost of a nearby hotel, and in the morning, we’ll discuss this further.”

The confusion and uncertainty in Gi-hun’s eyes made it clear that he didn’t understand In-ho’s intentions.

“I know I’m asking a lot, but I need you to trust in me for now.”

Gi-hun shifted his gaze between the paper with that terrible story and the detective’s warm eyes. He still hadn’t fully processed the events of the previous night—let alone what was happening now. But one thing was certain: his life was at stake. And his best chance of survival was to trust the man who had saved him from a homicide conviction.

Even without understanding his reasoning, there was something in In-ho’s gaze that suggested he had a plan.

“Okay, I’ll trust you.”

The tension in In-ho’s face eased, visible relief washing over his expression. At that moment, Jun-ho returned, accompanied by a short-haired female officer. As they approached, they both greeted them briefly.

“You got here just in time,” In-ho announced, turning back to Gi-hun. “Mr. Seong, I ask that you accompany Officer Kang No-eul. She will escort you to the hotel and ensure your safety until we meet again.”

Gi-hun shifted his gaze to the woman. Her face was impassive, her eyes cold and unreadable. She was younger and noticeably shorter than him, but the firmness in her stare made him swallow hard.

“Jun-ho, gather the rest of the team. We’ll resume the investigation at the station.”

“Leave it to me, Hyung.” Jun-ho responded before heading back inside the house.

In-ho stepped away slightly, organizing the papers in his hands. The only exception was the killer’s letter, which Gi-hun had already understood he was meant to keep. Taking a portable radio from the inner pocket of his coat, the detective gave some instructions to a subordinate on the other end of the line before putting it away.

Noticing that Gi-hun and No-eul still hadn’t moved, he approached to bid farewell.

“I’ll let you go now. I trust Officer Kang to keep you safe.” In-ho smiled, extending his hand, just like on the night they first met. “See you tomorrow, Gi-hun.”

Hypnotized by the way his first name sounded in that tone, Gi-hun shook his hand. The warm, firm palm contrasted with his cold, trembling fingers, and for a brief moment, he wanted to hold onto that sensation. But the moment quickly passed, and In-ho stepped away, heading toward his brother, leaving him alone with the officer—who, by the looks of it, wasn’t too happy to be there.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Those were the first words No-eul directed at him. The dry tone matched her expressionless face perfectly.

“What?” He frowned, not understanding what she meant.

She observed him in silence for a moment, as if pondering what to say.
“It’s nothing. This way, please.”
Without waiting for a response, she pointed to the car and walked ahead.

Gi-hun cast one last glance at his house—his small, cozy house, which now seemed like nothing more than a nightmare setting—before turning to follow the officer.

He had no choice but to accept the strangeness of this new reality and move forward. With each new revelation, it felt as though his life was becoming a game where he didn’t know the rules. But for now, all he could do was follow Officer Kang, try to rest—if he even could—and wait to see what the next day had in store for him.

The softness of the hotel mattress made it far too difficult to get out of bed when he heard the knocking at the door. When he first thought about the hotel the police would pay for, he had imagined it would be a simple motel or some ordinary inn. However, the place Officer Kang had taken him to was far more luxurious than he expected. So much so that he felt out of place watching well-dressed men and women pass through the lobby while he wore old, worn-out clothes.

It wasn’t just the entrance that was impressive; the room itself was grand. Warm and spacious, with a bathroom that seemed almost the size of his entire kitchen. A single night here must have cost a fortune. But then again, that’s what his taxes were for, right? Might as well enjoy the fleeting luxury while he could.

Having forgotten to close the blinds before sleeping, sunlight flooded the room, forcing him to adjust to the unwelcome brightness. As soon as he gathered enough strength to organize his thoughts, the events of the past nights came rushing back like a whirlwind. He had slept so well that he had almost forgotten the real reason he was here. He could already feel a headache forming.

The knocking at the door could only be Officer Kang, probably informing him it was time to leave and face reality again. Before gathering his few belongings—phone, keys, his makeshift wallet and that note —he put on the rest of his clothes. Finally, he went to meet the woman waiting outside.

The night before, he had barely managed to speak with her. Not that the officer had given him much room too. Any attempt Gi-hun made to ease the tension or distract himself from unpleasant thoughts was met with short replies like “yes,” “no,” and the occasional grunt. It reminded him a little of the North Korean girl who had robbed him just yesterday but with so much going on, that now felt like ages ago. He refrained from sharing that observation with his companion.

As they walked through the lobby toward the car, he considered asking if they would stop to eat. If before the thought of food made him nauseous, now it had the opposite effect. However, the officer’s impassive expression made it clear that their immediate destination was the police station. No breakfast break, then.

The ride was as silent as the one the night before. But the daylight brought a bit more comfort, making him feel less on edge. Even so, he vividly remembered the suffocating sound of banknotes sliding across his bedroom floor. The moments of pure terror while waiting for the police, each little noise echoing like a warning of imminent death. He feared that the intruder was simply waiting to deliver the final blow.

Frankly, for a moment, he believed he could leave it all behind. That he could forget the incident and move on with his life. But now, he understood that this situation was far from over. A deep exhaustion settled into his body. He wanted to trust that the police knew what they were doing. All he wished for was some good news—something that could put an end to this madness once and for all.

Upon arriving at the station, they greeted the receptionist and a few officers passing by before being led into a cramped room. It wasn’t an interrogation room like the last time— the absence of a one-way mirror made that clear. There was only a table and two chairs, one of which was already occupied by the unmistakable Detective Hwang. Sitting with his back to the door, he rose calmly upon hearing it open, ready to greet them.

“Mr. Seong, good to see you.” He greeted him first, before turning to the woman. “Officer Kang, thank you for your service. You may go now.”

From Gi-hun’s perspective, he seemed as composed as ever, but the dark bags under his eyes indicated that, while he had slept comfortably in the hotel bed, the detective had spent the night awake.

The officer’s gaze alternated between her superior and Gi-hun, but it was impossible for him to guess what she was thinking. Without saying anything else, she made a respectful nod and left. Gi-hun entered the room and closed the door behind him, and In-ho gestured toward the chair in front of him, instructing him to sit. There were two cups of coffee and a few other objects on the table, but he refrained from asking—he had a vague idea that the detective would explain everything soon.

Both men sat down, and Gi-hun rubbed his hands against his pants, wiping away the sweat he hadn’t even realized was there. A brief silence settled between them, as if neither truly wanted to discuss the matter, no matter how inevitable it was. Anxious, Gi-hun took it upon himself to break the cycle.

"That hotel I stayed in was really fancy," he commented, a little awkwardly, but still offering a smile. "I didn’t know the police had that much money to spend on these kinds of situations."

In-ho smiled back, amused.
"They don’t. I paid for the room."

Gi-hun’s smile faltered slightly.
"What?" he asked, disguising a sigh. "Why?"

"Because you’re my witness," he replied simply, leaving him speechless. "And because it seemed like you needed a good night’s sleep. I hope it helped."

Unsure of what to say, Gi-hun wet his dry lips and lowered his gaze, holding back an "you shouldn’t have" before thanking him for the kindness.

"It did help… Thank you, In-ho."
"You’re welcome."

It was true that he wanted to question the reasons behind him spending so much money on someone like him, but he didn’t want to sound ungrateful to someone who had already helped him so much, no matter how undeserving he felt of such treatment.

"Alright, let’s get to the point, shall we?"

The shift in the detective’s relaxed demeanor to a more serious tone was enough to snap Gi-hun out of his previous daze. Now came the moment of truth.

"We analyzed all the evidence collected from your home and cross-checked it with our case database. And, as expected, all of the intruder’s actions match the methods of The Taker."

Gi-hun felt his breath hitch at the mention of the name but didn’t interrupt.

"Just like the previous victims, he makes contact through letters composed of cut-out words and deposits a large sum of money in their homes. Not all victims still had the letter when they were found. It’s impossible to determine whether the culprit took them back or if they were destroyed, but one undeniable fact is that every target received at least one children’s tale dedicated to them as a form of contact and tells them not to call the police.”

Target.

God.

This was worse than he thought.

"Which leads us to believe that he tends to observe you, to see what you’ll do with such wealth."

Gi-hun wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.

"What am I going to do? I’m not going to do anything! How can he think I’d use that

money?!"

"The Taker believes that by offering an easy way out to people with financial troubles, they will eventually be tempted to accept, no matter how much they try to resist. Furthermore, he warns them not to involve the authorities. None of the previous victims broke that rule before." In-ho paused briefly before concluding, "Or rather, until now."

Once again, something about being considered a "victim" made his stomach turn.

This was going from bad to worse.

"However, if we consider that he doesn’t know you’ve contacted the police, this could work to our advantage."

Gi-hun stared, frozen.

Advantageous?

"What if he already knows?" he asked.

"Then that’s just one more reason for you to accept our proposal."

That made him swallow audibly, but he remained silent, letting the detective finish his reasoning.

"After years of investigation, we’ve never really gotten close to capturing him. We haven’t even been able to identify a plausible suspect. Every time, he manipulates someone from the shadows, and we always arrive when it’s already too late. And that’s where you come in."

"Me?" Gi-hun pointed at himself, incredulously.

"Yes. Whether by chance or bad luck, you caught his attention and broke the cycle. But now, we can figure out where he is and what he’s doing. And with that, finally catch him."

"Okay… but how?"

"With an ambush." In-ho answered firmly.

"An ambush?" he stammered.

"The plan is as follows: if he believes you haven’t contacted the police, you’ll continue your life as usual. We won’t impose any restrictions on the money—you’ll be free to do whatever you want with it—but we’ll have 24-hour surveillance on you and your home. That way, when he reaches out again, we’ll be ready to catch him."

His first instinct was to ask if this was some kind of joke. The plan seemed simple in theory, but in practice? He could end up dead before he even realized what hit him. However, the determined expression of the man before him made it clear that this was no joke.

"So you want to use me as bait for a serial killer? Me?!" He could feel his voice starting to rise, but he reminded himself that losing his temper wouldn’t help and tried to calm down. "How do you expect me to live my life normally, knowing that at any moment, some lunatic might try to kill me?"

By now, his voice had dropped to a desperate whisper. With his head lowered, he couldn’t tell what kind of expression the detective wore, but from what little he knew of him, it was likely an impassive and unwavering face. He had already braced himself to be called a coward.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the warmth and concern in the voice that reached his ears.

"I’m sorry. I know this is too much to ask from you." Peeking through his bangs, he caught the moment In-ho’s eyes shifted away from his, focusing on his hands on the table. "It’s not fair to you, but this may be the only chance in years that we have to be one step ahead of him."

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, those words struck a nerve.

It was true that he didn’t want to be part of this, but now that denying his involvement was impossible, it was hard to turn his back on them. Even if he got rid of the money, what guarantee did he have that the killer would give up on him? He reasoned that he might only be accelerating the inevitable, ending up dead tomorrow for breaking the rules.

As much as he hated it, his best option was to accept.

Just like in the tale that said he had no chance, here too, he had little choice.

He could only pick the best of the worst options—the one that still gave him a chance to live.

"How would you ensure my safety?"

The question made In-ho lift his gaze, a flicker of hope crossing his eyes.

"We’ll set up a task force dedicated to your surveillance. In addition to constant monitoring and hidden cameras in your home, we’ll provide you with a special device that will allow you to contact us even without a phone, in case of extreme emergencies."

Sensing Gi-hun’s curiosity, the detective wasted no time in picking up one of the objects on the table.

"This is a modified belt, equipped with a chip that sends an alert and activates the tracker attached to it as soon as the buckle is pressed, allowing us to locate you in real time."

The belt itself looked like a simple black leather model, but the thick, rectangular metal buckle showed that there was much more to it than met the eye. Overall, however, it was discreet, easily passing as an ordinary accessory.

"I suggest you wear it daily—after all, you never know what might happen. But it’s crucial that you only use it in case of an emergency."

The special emphasis on the word emergencies did not go unnoticed, making him swallow hard. As if reading his thoughts, In-ho handed him the device so he could examine it.

Up close, it looked ordinary enough to be found in any clothing store, but when he pressed lightly against the cold metal surface of the buckle, feeling it sink slightly, he realized that this belt concealed much more than it appeared.

"I hope you're considering our proposal, Gi-hun," the detective said, watching him play with the belt like a newly discovered gadget. "All we want is to put an end to this crime spree, and with your help, that might finally be possible."

Gi-hun gripped the leather strap more tightly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help the police—in fact, he would love to be the hero who helped catch a dangerous criminal. But the fact that his own life was at stake terrified him.

"How long will this last?"

"Weeks, months... we have no way of knowing," In-ho replied, his voice firm but without the coldness from before. "But one thing is certain: he will wait. No matter how much you refuse to spend the money, he will wait for your weakest moment. Until the day you need to use it. And then, he will come for you."

Gi-hun's stomach twisted. It was like hearing his sentence being read aloud.

"So, in the end, no matter what I do… he’ll never give up."

"No," In-ho confirmed without hesitation. "But neither will we."

So, he thought, if he didn’t act now, this nightmare would never stop.

His only option was to hunt The Taker before The Taker hunted him.

And that was exactly what he intended to do.

"I'm in," he replied, with a newfound confidence in his voice.

In-ho seemed slightly surprised when their eyes met, but the surprise quickly gave way to satisfaction.

"Great. Let’s get started."

When In-ho said they would start, Gi-hun hadn’t expected that to mean a formal introduction to the team. God, he didn’t even know there was already a team waiting for him to meet.

However, meeting the faces of those responsible for his safety gave him an extra layer of reassurance. It was far better than blindly trusting people he didn’t even know.

The Homicide Division was larger than he had expected. Aside from the interrogation rooms and temporary holding cells, he hadn’t seen much of the building before. But now, walking alongside the detective, they passed by an increasing number of rooms, all equipped with machines and instruments he wouldn’t even know how to name or what they were used for. Other detectives moved busily, focused on their tasks as they walked by.

In addition to the tracker-equipped belt, In-ho also handed him a magnetic key. According to him, it wasn’t just a matter of protection against the killer but also to prevent thefts and break-ins, since the money would remain in his possession for an indefinite period.

Under normal circumstances, the idea of a free security upgrade for his old house would have excited him, but given the situation, this was far from pleasant.

As they entered areas of the building where an ordinary citizen would never set foot without a badge, they reached a large, dimly lit room. There were no visible windows, but the ventilation system worked so well that Gi-hun wondered if there was still sunlight outside to contrast with the coldness of the room.

Inside, besides a whiteboard and several computers, a massive board stood out. It was covered with photos, papers, and scribbled notes, all connected by red strings linking key pieces of information together.

It was clear—this was the investigation room for the case.

"Everyone, I’d like to introduce the newest member of the task force, Mr. Seong Gi-hun," In-ho announced, drawing the attention of those present.

Scanning the room quickly, Gi-hun recognized Jun-ho and Officer Kang, who had brought him here. However, two unfamiliar figures stepped forward to introduce themselves.

"Wow, so you’re the guy who ran into The Taker and lived to tell the tale?" The first to speak was a young, energetic man. "Damn, that takes guts. I’m already a fan."

Stunned, Gi-hun was about to respond that there was nothing courageous about what had happened when the woman beside him intervened.

"Don’t pay too much attention to Dae-ho, he’s always like this." Her voice was firm and commanding, and her posture exuded experience—something he could only describe as the perfect example of a lead female character in a crime drama. "My name is Cho Hyun-ju. It’s a pleasure to have you on the team."

"But it's true!" Dae-ho insisted. "This guy not only came face to face with the killer we’ve been chasing for five years and got out alive, but he also had the guts to call the police—breaking The Taker’s number one rule. If that’s not impressive, I don’t know what is."

This made Hyun-ju roll her eyes without the other noticing. Then, he assumed an exaggerated, almost theatrical salute.

"Kang Dae-ho, sir! Nice to meet you!"

"Were you in the Navy, by any chance?" Gi-hun asked, recognizing the younger man's unusual actions.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Dae-ho replied, puffing out his chest and raising his right hand to his forehead in an exaggerated salute. "Were you in the Navy too, Mr. Seong?"

"Just Gi-hun is fine," he said, addressing both Dae-ho and Hyun-ju, who seemed tired of her colleague’s antics. "And no, I never served, but I have a close friend who did."

"That means we're going to get along great." Finally relaxing his stance, Dae-ho seemed to return to normal, though his excitement remained evident. "Young-mi and I are in charge of cybersecurity and satellite monitoring. Say hi, Young-mi!"

He called out to someone sitting in a chair facing a powered-on computer. The short and timid girl, with most of her hair falling over her eyes, turned around upon hearing her name. Upon recognizing Gi-hun’s presence, she quickly waved before returning to what she was doing.

"She's shy and doesn’t talk much, but she's great at her job. Only listens to Hyun-ju though." Dae-ho explained. "The two of us are usually responsible for identifying future victims by analyzing patterns in bank transactions and suspicious deposits, as well as monitoring the victims' close relatives in case the killer makes contact again. But now, with you here, our job is going to be way more fun!"

His small ponytail bounced every time he spoke, giving him an even more youthful look than he already had. While Hyun-ju turned to scold him for sounding rude, Gi-hun shot a glance at In-ho, who was watching his subordinates with amusement. When he noticed the other man’s look, the detective simply shrugged, as if to say that this was the team they had to work with. Honestly, Gi-hun wasn’t dissatisfied.

"Hyun-ju and No-eul will be in charge of your on-site surveillance," In-ho explained, pointing to the officer a bit farther away, drinking something from a disposable cup. "They'll take turns monitoring your house."

"I'm sorry, but only they will be in charge of my security?" Gi-hun asked, trying not to sound insensitive, but the comparison between a serial killer capable of bringing him to his knees with mere presence and the two officers made him doubt the effectiveness of the plan.

"I was in the Army," Hyun-ju stated, as if she needed to justify herself. "Had to leave for, uh, obvious reasons, but I was one of the best in my class at marksmanship."

Gi-hun sensed a pang of sadness in her voice when she said, "for obvious reasons," but he chose not to poke at the wound.

"That’s true," Dae-ho confirmed for her. "Only No-eul beats her—her accuracy is flawless."

No-eul looked up, saying nothing, just paying attention to the conversation, while Hyun-ju shot Dae-ho an irritated look.

"Says the guy who didn’t even pass the psychological exam for a gun license," she scoffed, offended.

"I’ve told you before, I was sick that day! You can’t blame someone for food poisoning."

As the two resumed their bickering, Gi-hun felt a touch on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to the detective. In-ho placed a hand on his back—something that definitely sent a shiver up his spine, but he chose not to comment on it—and guided him toward the brown bulletin board, where Jun-ho was attentively examining a piece of paper.

"And last but not least, you already know my brother."

Jun-ho smiled as they approached.

"All the items you requested are ready for use," he informed.

In-ho quickly explained that they were disguised cameras for Gi-hun to place around his house.

"Perfect. Schedule the delivery for tomorrow afternoon. And make sure it looks like just another routine online purchase. Even the smallest detail could be enough to alert him," he ordered, and Jun-ho nodded before leaving the room. "Besides that, for any other problems, you have my number."

At this point, Gi-hun was beginning to feel a little more confident that the plan might actually work. Even though he had only briefly met the team, everyone there seemed extremely competent. He would still need some time to adjust to all these changes, but if his efforts led to the capture of that maniac, he couldn’t be more satisfied to be a part of it.

Suddenly, a new figure entered the room. Wearing a white lab coat and a black tie, a man carried several photos as he approached him and In-ho. He was so focused on the images in his hands that, for a moment, he didn’t even seem to notice Gi-hun’s presence. However, the moment he did, he flashed a smile that could only be described as… eerie.

"Ah, Mr. Yoo, did you bring the latest samples I requested for analysis?" In-ho asked.

The newcomer kept his gaze locked and his smile intact as he responded,
"Yes, they just came out of the lab, and I came to deliver them to young Detective Hwang." He then turned his attention to Gi-hun. "I didn’t know you would be here."

"Well, I came to introduce Mr. Seong to the rest of the team. He’ll be joining us in the hunt for The Taker," In-ho explained.

Hearing his name, Gi-hun shook off the uneasy trance that the other man's unsettling expression had put him in.

"Ah, yes! You’re the one who witnessed the crime. You're quite the topic of discussion in my department," Yoo remarked, leaning slightly closer.

The gesture made Gi-hun instinctively take a step back—something that, to his dismay, probably didn’t go unnoticed.

"Mr. Yoo is a bloodstain pattern analyst," In-ho explained. "He was one of the key figures in finding evidence that ruled you out as a suspect."

"I’m Gong Yoo. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Seong," he greeted, still wearing that unsettling smile. "That crime scene was truly impressive. Even with my best camera, I couldn’t capture everything I saw with complete accuracy."

Gi-hun forced a crooked smile, unsure how to respond, shifting his gaze to anywhere else in the room that wasn’t Yoo’s fixed stare.

"Given the angle at which the axe struck the victim, it was clear the killer was shorter than you," Yoo continued, seemingly oblivious to the other's discomfort. "Moreover, the blood spatter that hit you would only have been possible if you had been facing the victim, not behind them, as one would expect from the perpetrator."

No one had asked for this explanation, but Yoo seemed pleased to share it, nonetheless.

Looking at his hands, Gi-hun recognized most of the photos Yoo was holding. They were images of the same dark alley, but now in high resolution, turning the black blood, he had seen that night into a striking crimson shade.

"Well, that last part I can only assume from what I was told. But it's a shame I didn’t see it for myself. I would have loved to take a picture."

Gi-hun looked up as soon as he noticed another weird smile creeping onto the analyst’s face. He wasn’t one to judge people—he himself wasn’t exactly a saint—but something about this man made him anxious. Maybe it was his gaze, too fixed, or the insensitive tone he used when he spoke about the crime scene. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what bothered him, but before he could dwell on it further, In-ho stepped in to end the conversation.

"Thank you very much for your service, Mr. Yoo. Leave the photos and the report here, and I’ll review everything later. You may return to your post."

Gi-hun felt like he could finally breathe in relief but figured that would be too impolite, even for him. Yoo seemed slightly displeased with the abrupt dismissal, but without protest, he placed the materials on the table and headed for the door.

"Until next time, Mr. Seong."

He offered another smile. By now, Gi-hun could only stare at him, eyes widening in response. As soon as Yoo left the room, he let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He definitely didn’t want to cross paths with that man again, but something told him this wouldn’t be the last time he’d hear about the blood analyst.

"Don't let his words get to you," In-ho said beside him. "For someone who spends the whole day analyzing bloodstains, he can’t be all there in the head."

Without realizing it, Gi-hun let out a genuine laugh, and In-ho quickly followed with a light chuckle. It had been days since he had felt a real urge to laugh at something. The unexpected jab was a welcome change of tone, especially coming from someone who always seemed so stoic.

"I think that's all for today. If you have any questions, feel free to message me," In-ho informed him. "And you'd better save my number under a different name. We wouldn’t want this whole operation to fall apart over a silly mistake, would we?"

Gi-hun nodded as In-ho handed his phone back. The device had been confiscated when he entered the station, apparently to install another tracker. It wouldn’t be as effective as the one in his belt, but it still provided some additional reassurance.

In his contacts, he found the most recent incoming call and clicked to add a new name. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to type.

"Young-il."

"What?"

"The contact. Save it as Young-il."

Gi-hun stared at him, surprised at how quickly he had answered, but still, he typed and saved the name.

"How did you think of that so fast?"

"Oh, to be honest, I’ve used that alias before," he explained, amused. "Young-il means 'number one,' and since I work at the city's First Police Precinct, the name fits."

Gi-hun considered that. It didn’t seem to match the detective’s serious and composed personality, at least the one he had seen during the interrogation. But somehow, in the few moments when In-ho allowed himself to be more open and relaxed, the name made sense.

"Besides," he continued, "I’ve been the number one top-performing detective in the homicide department for the past few years, so it fits even more."

The two stared at each other in silence.

"Jun-ho said it was funny."

At that, Gi-hun had to cover his mouth to keep his laughter from coming out too loudly, but the muffled sound seemed even more offensive than he had intended. Insulted, the detective turned toward the exit without saying another word.

For a moment, Gi-hun considered apologizing, thinking he had actually upset him, but the slight twitch at the corner of In-ho’s lips revealed that it wasn’t as serious as it seemed. So, he simply followed him, smiling and murmuring light apologies as they walked.

As they stepped outside, the morning sun bore down on them with unbearable heat, forcing them to seek shelter under a canopy where several police cars were parked. Now that the plan was in motion, Gi-hun figured he wouldn’t be getting another ride home—which was a shame. He definitely wouldn’t have minded riding in the detective’s car once more.

Both In-ho and his subordinates seemed quite confident in the success of the sting operation. And although Gi-hun felt somewhat protected by the array of devices and equipment he’d be taking home, one lingering doubt still weighed on his mind.

"What if he finds out?" he asked suddenly, staring at a fixed point ahead.

" The ambush operation?"

"Yeah. I wonder if, with so much surveillance, he wouldn’t end up realizing what we’re planning," he said, slightly discouraged by the thought.

"Let him find out, then."

Gi-hun looked up, incredulous.

"Let him find out...? But why?"

"Sooner or later, he’ll realize you’ve contacted us. Which, honestly, is expected from a criminal who’s always been one step ahead of us."

"But then… what’s the point of all this?"

Perplexed, Gi-hun continued to stare at the detective, who was watching the sky for no apparent reason, It seemed to be a habit, he thought

"We just need to fool him long enough that he can’t back out," he answered, letting out a sigh. "For a psychopath like him, giving up on a victim is almost like waving a white flag. So, I’m convinced that even if he finds out we’re onto him, he won’t back down until he reaches his goal."

Gi-hun shuddered at the implication. For someone who had never stood out for anything in life, now being treated as the obsession of a serial killer was definitely a drastic change.

A tap on his shoulder pulled him back before he could get too lost in that thought.

"Hey, don’t look so down," In-ho tried to reassure him the best way he knew how. "We’re going to catch him before anything happens to you. I promise."

Somewhere, Gi-hun had read that one should never trust promises made by doctors or police officers—after all, most of them were just empty words. And, to some extent, he believed that.

His mother’s doctors had promised guaranteed improvement if they opted for the alternative medication not covered by the insurance. In the end, not only had he accumulated even more debt, but he also lost her, leaving him with a wound that would never fully heal and a cruel reinforcement of that belief.

Even so, the sudden urge to hold onto the detective’s words and take them as truth was strangely strong. With that in mind, he offered the only thing he could give in return:

Trust.

"I already told you, I trust you."

And even if the previous promise wasn’t turned out to be true, this one was.

Chapter Text

The next few days were strange, to say the least.

Thanks to the police’s quick decision to cover his contact with them, when the first news about The Taker’s new victim surfaced in major media outlets, nothing linked him directly to the case.
In a way, it was a relief. The last thing he wanted was to become a tabloid target, some sort of morbid attraction whose only purpose was to entertain the public with gruesome details of what had happened in that alley. Moreover, any exposure could compromise the operation that In-ho’s team had worked so hard on.

Two days later, the disguised cameras arrived as a simple mail delivery. There were five distinct objects: a picture frame, a fridge magnet, a small plant pot, a teddy bear—which seemed so obvious that he almost didn’t use it—and a book.
Through a message, In-ho explained that the book contained a 360° camera, so it only needed to be placed somewhere with a wide view of the room. The other objects were strategically spread out to look natural. The teddy bear ended up on his dresser, much to his dismay. With a poorly sewn heart that read "I love you, Dad," it seemed like something he would own, but all he really wanted was to throw it away.

There was no news from Ga-yeong. Her mother rarely contacted him unless he reached out first, and with the last few days being so chaotic, there simply hadn't been space to think about it. For the first time, he felt grateful that they weren’t in Korea. He might resent his ex-wife and her stuck-up new husband, and he might miss his daughter every day, but he would never forgive himself if something happened to them.

As part of the plan, he was instructed to send daily reports to Dae-ho and Young-mi. At the end of each day, one of them would call or send a message from an untraceable phone number so he could update them on his routine and any suspicious activity. It was a simple task, but definitely easier with Young-mi—who would simply respond with a curt "OK"—than with Dae-ho.

"Okay, but what do you have for breakfast?" he asked one day.

"Is that relevant?" Gi-hun retorted.

"Of course it is! On particularly long days, Captain Hwang always grabs coffee for us and makes sure to remember our favorite orders."

The idea of the enigmatic detective bringing drinks for his team was more paternalistic than he had expected. He chuckled at the image but didn’t expect In-ho to bring him anything, given the current situation.

Still, he replied that he liked coffee with milk.

Despite the police’s best efforts to make things feel normal, nothing about his life felt normal anymore. The mere presence of those neatly stacked piles of cash made the idea of sleeping in his own room unbearable. Left with no other choice, he bought the cheapest futon he could find and started sleeping in his living room. Keeping the curtains and door to his bedroom permanently shut, he only entered when he needed clothes or had forgotten something.

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt like a hostage in his own home. What had once been his refuge now felt tainted, like everything had been contaminated by the presence of the psychopath who was watching him. His attempt to "return to normal life" had failed miserably. As a reflection of that, his smoking habit, which he had once controlled, was becoming more and more frequent.

Sometimes, late at night, he would sit in silence, staring at the money, trying to figure out its origins. At one point, he even considered the possibility that The Taker was just a deranged millionaire with nothing better to do. But for a man obsessed with how others used what they were given, that theory made no sense.

Thoughts about how that money could change his life also tormented him. Every time he looked at his broken washing machine and had to go to the laundromat down the street. Every time he saw his car covered in dirt and felt too exhausted to clean it. Every time he stared at Ga-yeong’s name on his phone and remembered the promise he could never keep—to visit her on her birthday.

As it had already been established, Gi-hun had complete freedom to use the money however he wanted. After all, it was his. But every time he even considered taking a single bill, his mind went back to the man in the alley, his skull split open against the concrete, and his body froze. He simply couldn’t do it. The thought of ending up like him and the other victims was too much to face and this weighed on his conscience in a way he didn’t know how to handle.

Even so, the only thing keeping him somewhat sane was the team’s presence, even if from a distance. The constant check-ins, the carefully hidden cameras, the knowledge that someone was watching out for him—it made a difference. Dae-ho's ridiculous questions, Young-mi's dry responses, and even the invisible presence of Hyun-ju and No-eul.

Without realizing it, he had begun to rely on them. And after a few days, he even managed to do more than just smoke at home all day. Maybe they could actually keep him safe from the taker, and he would keep himself safe from the money.

So, no. He wouldn’t use that cursed money. Not even if he was arrested for failing to pay his debts to the bank, not even if the loan sharks came knocking with clenched fists. He wouldn’t give in to the temptation the killer had so carefully laid before him. He wouldn’t be another pawn in this twisted game. And above all, he would never give The Taker the satisfaction of being right. And if the killer got tired of this idle game, he would come to accept his own defeat, because Gi-hun would not lose.

But would that really be enough to prove that the money wouldn’t change him?

Equipped with the belt, Gi-hun left for work every day without fail. Throwing himself into his job was the only way he could escape his own home and the oppressive threat lurking in his bedroom. He knew it wasn’t good for his health, but at least it provided him with money and a much-needed distraction.

Two weeks had passed since the operation began, and just as long since his last visit to the horse betting center. Jung-bae kept trying to convince him to go, puzzled by his sudden lack of interest in the races. Gi-hun always brushed him off with some excuse, but the truth was that he simply couldn’t bring himself to go back there.

If there was anything or anyone to blame for his current misery, it was the horses. If he hadn’t won that ridiculous bet, none of what happened afterward would have even occurred. He wasn’t superstitious, but the mere thought that more tragedies could unfold if he returned to that place was enough to keep him away.

Surprisingly, it was easier than he had expected. He had never considered himself a gambling addict, but from an outsider’s perspective, he definitely bet more than most. So, it was a relief to realize that withdrawal didn’t affect him much. Sure, he missed the cheap entertainment and the possibility of a quick reward, but he found other ways to occupy himself.

One of them was his growing obsession with crime shows. Fearing for his life had taught him that he couldn’t just sit back and wait to be saved. Even with police protection, he knew he couldn’t rely on it forever. So, he dove headfirst into everything he could find about The Taker and his crimes, trying to uncover as much as possible before it was too late.

The killer had been active for about five years, but the cases were only connected after the third victim, a woman named Han Mi-nyeo, she was the first to be smart enough to keep the killer’s letter and helped the police to make a connection between the other bodies. There didn’t seem to be a pattern among the victims; they varied in gender, age, and background. The only common thread was the overwhelming debt they had accumulated throughout their lives, making it clear why they had become The Taker’s targets.

And just as Jun-ho had told him, each death was different. Reading about them made him feel sick, but he couldn’t stop himself. Each crime was bloodier and more brutal than the last. Maybe if he hadn’t interrupted that fateful night, the poor man’s corpse would have been in worse condition than just a blow to the head.

Unconsciously, it made him wonder—if he came face-to-face with The Taker again, would he stand a chance? The logical answer was no. But Gi-hun wasn’t planning to go down without a fight, even if his mere presence was enough to make him tremble. That thought led him to consider learning self-defense, something he had never imagined doing before.

Without money to pay for private lessons, he turned to his only options: the internet and his new "hunting companions." Hyun-ju and No-eul were inaccessible, and Young-mi didn’t seem like much of a fighter. That left only Dae-ho.

While driving a passenger to the city center, he sent him a message. The reply came quickly—after all, this was a 24-hour job.

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Gi-hun!” Dae-ho responded. “But to be honest, I’m not very good at fighting.”

“Aren’t you a former Marine?” Gi-hun quickly typed as he stopped at a red light.

“Yes, but… let’s just say I wasn’t the best in my class. Never actively participated in major operations. I found out I work better behind a screen.”

Gi-hun sighed, frustrated. He didn’t want to rely on generic internet videos—everything seemed simple in theory, but in practice, it was a different story. His passenger huffed in annoyance as his phone vibrated again, and Gi-hun muttered an apology before putting it in silent mode.

A new message flashed on the screen:

" Ah, but if you want someone who can really teach you, Captain Hwang is the right person! He ranked first in the police aptitude test. There’s no one better for this."

Captain Hwang. Dae-ho seemed to refer to In-ho that way. Was it just a nickname or something more? If he remembered later, he would ask about it.

Truth be told, In-ho was the first person who came to mind when he had the idea. Even if he wasn’t a field officer, he seemed to know enough about self-defense to be able to teach him. But ever since the first days of the operation, Gi-hun hadn’t spoken to or seen the man as frequently as he did the rest of the team. The same went for Jun-ho, which led him to believe the two were busy with the investigation.

Even though he knew he had complete freedom to send him a message—Young-il’s contact pinned at the top of his chats for easy access—something held him back.

He had no idea why but just thinking about it made him strangely anxious. Maybe it was the fear of seeming weak or incompetent in the detective’s eyes, even though deep down, he suspected that was already In-ho’s impression of him. God, that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He simply didn’t know how to approach the detective about anything outside of work.

"I’ll think about it." That was the best response he could come up with to end the conversation. The sound of another notification indicated that Dae-ho had sent another message, but for now, he chose to ignore it and focus on his current ride.

After dropping off the passenger on a quieter street corner, he continued his routine for a few more hours. Since the incident with the North Korean woman, he had been paying extra attention to each passenger’s profile before accepting a ride, carefully analyzing their ratings and number of completed trips.

As soon as he finished another trip, the next notification popped up on the screen:

Park Min-su – over six hundred rides, five stars.

It seemed safe enough. He accepted. He also saw a few more messages from Dae-ho but decided to focus on work for now.

The pickup point was at the entrance of a park, and although the final destination wasn’t in one of the safest neighborhoods, it was still fine to pass through at that time of day. As he approached, he tried to identify his passenger. The profile had no photo, but that wasn’t uncommon.

He spotted a skinny boy looking at his phone, his eyes lighting up in recognition when he read the car’s license plate. Still, his expression remained tense.

Before Gi-hun could call out to him, two figures appeared by his side, one of them draping an arm over the boy’s shoulders in a suffocating grip.

"Nice job, Min-su! You got us a cab real quick. You’re the man, bro, the best." sneered the one with dyed purple hair, his entire appearance screaming trouble. The other, just as rough-looking, laughed.

Gi-hun didn’t like this. They had all the signs of delinquents, and the last thing he wanted was to have them in his car for the next twenty minutes. Instinctively, he reached for his phone to cancel the ride, but before he could, the one with purple hair was already sliding into the front passenger seat.

By reflex, he leaned back slightly, slipping his phone into his pocket. The guy smirked at his reaction.

"Relax, old man, I only steal from people I envy."

Gi-hun frowned, processing the unprovoked insult. Meanwhile, the other two took the backseat. The second delinquent, with slicked-back black hair, wrapped an arm around Min-su’s shoulders, trapping him in place.

Gi-hun’s eyes met the boy’s in the rearview mirror. The younger one quickly looked away, lowering his head, visibly uncomfortable. It was obvious he didn’t want to be there—that he wasn’t really friends with those two.

For a moment, Gi-hun considered intervening. Something about the scene unsettled him, and he felt genuine pity for the scared kid. But in the past few days, feeling pity for someone had only brought him trouble.

He sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. He would just complete the ride and forget about this—forget about these people he would never see again.

Still uneasy, he started the car, and the trip began.

The passenger beside him wasn’t wearing a seatbelt—something Gi-hun had tried to warn him about multiple times, to no avail—and seemed hyperactive. He fidgeted with his rings, opened and closed the air vents, frantically switched between radio stations, and, worst of all, kept leaning into the backseat to talk to the other two.

"Listen up, Min-su, we’re taking you to a really cool place, but you gotta keep it a secret, kay bro?" He turned in his seat, almost as if he was about to jump in the back, his eyes exaggeratedly wide. "It’s that or… you already know."

The implication was pretty obvious. Gi-hun wondered how someone could say something like that in front of a stranger without a care in the world. Judging by his erratic behavior, he suspected the kid was high. Using something this early in the day? He had to be crazy. Well, he did look crazy, so maybe Gi-hun was right.

"Relax, man. Our Min-su would never snitch on us. We’re best friends, aren’t we?" The long-haired one muttered, tightening his grip around the boy’s shoulders.

Min-su didn’t respond. He just looked away, shrinking into the corner of the seat, his fingers digging into his knee. His shoulders were tense, his body nearly motionless, as if trying to make himself small enough to disappear.

Gi-hun kept his eyes on the road, determined not to get involved in other people’s problems. In the following minutes, the dynamic remained the same: the purple-haired one being unbearably annoying, his partner laughing at everything, and Min-su shrinking further and further into himself.

At some point, while flipping through radio stations, Gi-hun had politely asked him to stop doing it, only to be completely ignored, the guy beside him tuned into a news station and finally stopped messing around. Gi-hun didn’t recognize the name of the station, but as soon as he understood the topic of the report, a chill ran down his spine.

"… a killer who murders his victims after offering them large sums of money. Over the years, many experts have pointed to a possible superiority complex as his motivation. In an interview with Dr. Frederick Chilton, he mentioned that—"

"Damn, you gotta be really dumb to die like that," the long-haired one interrupted the reporter with a mocking laugh. "If I had a billion won, I’d just hire security or get the hell out of the country. These idiots had everything in their hands and still got caught. Serve them right for being stupid, if you ask me."

"Hmpf, if it were up to me, I’d go after that guy myself." The purple-haired one laughed, mixing rhyming words with broken English in a way so disconnected that Gi-hun could barely understand. "If I already wiped out half the universe, what’s one more?"

The two burst into laughter as if they hadn’t just said something absurd.

Up until then, Gi-hun had been ignoring their erratic behavior. They were just disrespectful and ignorant kids—nothing he hadn’t seen before. But now? Now it was different. What they said hit him in a way he didn’t expect, not just out of empathy for the victims, but because it was personal.

Regardless of the poor choices those people had made, nothing justified what happened to them. None of them deserved to die like that, let alone be judged by some kids who had no idea what they were talking about.

Honestly, he should have stayed quiet. He really should have.

But when he heard the mother of the sixth victim, the one who was part of that interview weeks ago, being mocked—a disgusting comment about how she should stop mourning her son’s death and just enjoy the money he left behind—something inside him simply snapped.

"Hey, you punks."

His voice came out louder than he intended, and the entire car fell silent. Min-su shrank even further into his seat, eyes fixed on his knees. The other two froze, caught off guard.

"You have no idea what you’re talking about, so shut the fuck up and stop spewing bullshit about other people’s mothers. If you think you’re untouchable, you’re dead wrong. Don’t you dare judge those you don’t even know."

Frozen, they all stared at Gi-hun in silence. Without taking his eyes off the road, he kept driving as if he hadn’t just delivered a serious scolding. The static voice on the radio kept murmuring something that Gi-hun didn’t bother to understand; it shouldn’t matter. All he wanted now was to drop off his passengers and never see them again.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a smile creep onto the face of the guy beside him, followed by a short huff of laughter.

The sound made Gi-hun grit his teeth in anger.

“Well, sir, what beautiful words you have to say,” he mocked. “It’s a shame they mean nothing coming from a loser like you.”

Gi-hun’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he remained unfazed. He had already said what he wanted to say; he wouldn’t lose his temper twice.

“I know what it must be like. Working yourself to the bone, never having money to spend, the same thing every day, only to die knowing none of it was worth it. I know your type—you must be jealous of those bastards who died with money in their hands.”

Gi-hun almost laughed at the irony. Ah, if only that kid knew how wrong he was. But he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of responding, no matter how much he wanted to put him and his friend in their place.

“They died, that’s true, but they were happy in their final days. And you? You’ll spend your life waiting for something that will never come because people like you never get what they want.” His tone dripped with disdain, as if he were in a much better position to judge Gi-hun—when in reality, he was leeching off some poor fool’s money just to pay for a car ride.

Realizing that his words weren’t having the desired effect, his friend tried to chime in with some nonsense that Gi-hun didn’t even bother to register. He had lost his composure once, but it would take much more than shallow insults to make him react again. However, after a while without a response, the purple-haired one suddenly smiled maliciously, as if he had just realized something.

“Really, it must be depressing to live like this,” he said with fake kindness. “If I were your mother, I’d be ashamed to have a son like you.”

Stunned, Gi-hun slowly turned his head, wide-eyed, staring at the young man who wore a cynical grin.

That was a low blow—his weak spot.

Without realizing it, he raised an arm, ready to punch him in the face. The kid, without hesitation, did the same, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that he was challenging the driver—the one person who could send them all to their deaths if he lost control of the car.

Before the blow could be struck, the female voice from the radio suddenly broke in again, now sharper, instantly stealing Gi-hun’s attention.

“Breaking news! Our field reporters have just arrived at the home of Mister Oh Il-nam, the first identified victim of The Taker. The location appears to have been broken into overnight, and a message was left behind by the killer.”

With his fist still in the air, Gi-hun felt all his anger drain away, quickly replaced by a chill of pure fear.

A message from The Taker.

Holy shit.

“The house, where the victim was found years ago, had recently been sold through a real estate agency after going years without offers. When one of the agents took the future owners for another visit, they found a message written in blood on the living room floor! The police arrived quickly and began securing the area, but according to our sources, the message read:

"I thought we had a deal, but I was misled. Yet time still remains—the game's just ahead."

Our reporters attempted to question the officers about the meaning of this cryptic message. While they avoided providing details, everything indicates that it was directed specifically at the serial killer’s next victim!”

In shock, Gi-hun tried to process every word coming from the radio.

He found out.

He discovered the contact with the police. He knew about the plan. He knew everything.

And he sended Gi-hun a message.

But how?

And more importantly—why was he hearing about this on a radio broadcast instead of being informed by the team?

A single phrase echoed in his mind. Times of peace precede tragedy.

He should have expected this. He should have been prepared. But the truth was, no amount of preparation could be enough for this kind of paralyzing fear.

It meant that all the days spent away from home, the sleepless nights, the heightened security, the time spent pretending nothing was wrong to avoid suspicion—all of it had been useless.

It meant he was watching.

And that was scary as hell.

The voices in the background faded into a distant hum, like muffled whispers, and Gi-hun didn't even notice the passengers' shouts until he felt the sudden impact that jolted him from his thoughts.

The car flew for a second before violently hitting the asphalt, making the metal screech deafeningly. The horn of a vehicle behind him blared shrilly, while Gi-hun instinctively slammed on the brakes.

His heart pounded against his chest, unsure if it was from shock or fear.

He had driven straight over a speed bump.

The two delinquents in the seat next to him began shouting insults, even accusing him of attempted murder. But Gi-hun barely heard them. His mind was still muddled, swirling around the words he had heard on the radio.

He needed to get out of there. He needed space. He needed to breathe.

"Get out." The word escaped his lips almost like a whisper.

The passengers continued to complain, but he had no patience for it. Fuck the ride. Fuck those guys. He had many more important things to deal with.

He slammed his hands on the steering wheel and shouted, impatient:

"GET OUT. NOW."

In disbelief, the one with purple hair looked at him as if Gi-hun had gone crazy, but before he could do or say anything more, his colleague grabbed him by the shoulder, muttering something like "it's not worth it, Thanos" or "let's just go." Finally, a rational action.

Annoyed, that ‘Thanos’s guy or whatever grunted before opening the car door, informing him that he would give Gi-hun less than one star in the app. The other two left so quietly that he didn't even notice when he was finally alone. Banging his forehead on the top of the steering wheel, he tried to remember if there was any moment that might have indicated to the killer that he had contacted the police, but, in recent weeks, there had been nothing. No change in his routine, no strangers lurking around, nothing that betrayed his movements. Still, he knew. Fears and doubts began to settle in his already shaken mind.

He took his cell phone out of his pocket, angry and hurt that he hadn't been warned of that event in advance. Perhaps, if he had found out through the detective's calm words, the impact of the news would not have been so overwhelming. As soon as the screen lit up, dozens of missed call notifications filled the locked screen, most of them from unknown numbers and some even from Young-il. It was at that moment that he remembered having left his cellphone silent for the last few hours and that he had kept it in his pocket throughout the journey.

Shit. They tried to contact him, but he didn't see it.

With guilt overpowering the fear, he went straight to Young-il's chat to read the message history.

"Mr. Seong, we have a problem."

"Please contact us immediately."

"Dae-ho can't get in touch with you, did something happen?"

"Under no circumstances turn on the television or read the news. We will discuss it at the police station. Come as soon as possible."

"If you have already seen it, do not despair. We are watching you."

"No-eul reported an accident. What happened?"

"Gi-hun, if you are okay, say something."

A feeling of shame crawled through his body, making him squirm slightly. Damn, he worried everyone for nothing and now he felt bad about it. They were probably the first to know and tried to avoid causing unnecessary panic, but he went and, unintentionally, cut off the only source of contact with them due to pure carelessness. Why did he always do the wrong things?

"I'm fine. I just heard it on the radio and lost control of the car. What should I do?"

His answer seemed normal enough, but he couldn't help but notice how much his hands were shaking as he typed. Even knowing that one of the assigned officers was watching him, it wasn't enough to calm him down. His phone vibrated with a new message. It was In-ho.

"Don't worry now. Jun-ho and I are going to the scene to see if we can find out anything else. Go home and don't do anything. We'll talk later."

The answer left him distressed. How could In-ho think that he could simply go home and ignore what happened? But, again, there was nothing he could do now. He would have to leave everything in the capable hands of the detectives and pray that they would find out something more. Now that the initial shock had passed, he had already felt a headache starting to form.

"Sir?"

A tap on the window beside him made him jump suddenly. He lowered the glass and came face to face with Min-su, who seemed to have gotten rid of the delinquents who were tormenting him.

"Hm... can I help you?" He really wasn't in the mood to talk, so it would be best if the boy was brief.

"Something's leaking from under your car. I think you might have broken a part."

Gi-hun swallowed a curse, letting out only a loud sigh. Of course. It was exactly what he needed now.

"I-if you need a mechanic, I know this workshop... they are very good..." The boy spoke hesitantly, probably still shaken by Gi-hun's reaction, but still offered a card with an address written on it. Gi-hun felt a little bad. He must have scared him earlier, and unlike his other two "friends", that boy honestly didn't deserve it.

"Thank you, young man." He thanked, accepting the courtesy. Min-su leaned slightly before walking away in the opposite direction those other two were going, leaving him alone again.

Now, with another problem added to his already extensive list, he pondered what to do. He felt a little less scared, but he knew that the feeling of unease would return at any moment throughout the day, especially if he was locked in the house with nothing to do but think about it.

There were still a few hours left before nightfall, and he didn't want to postpone the car problem until tomorrow. From what little he understood, a simple problem now could cost much more if he left it as it was. So maybe it would be a good idea to make a quick stop at this mechanic... just to take a look at the car.

Looking around, he couldn't identify for sure where the impassive Officer Kang was watching him from. She must be good at her job, he thought. However, he hoped she would be a little more flexible about it and not report to her superior that he would be making a quick stop before going home.

The sound of metal and the smell of smoke indicated that he was in the right place.

As much as he liked cars and used them as a work tool, he didn't know much about mechanics. Sure, he knew how to change a spare tire or inflate a flat tire, but fix an oil leak? No idea. It was better to leave it in the hands of those who knew.

"Seems to be a problem with the oil pan gasket." The voice came from a man who seemed to be the owner of the workshop. Kim, he read on the badge. The shed was so big, with so many machines and tools scattered around, it almost looked like a factory, making Gi-hun wonder if it was really just a workshop. "It won't take more than a few hours, but it would be better to leave the car here. It was a busy day and we'll be closing soon, but if we can fix it sooner, we'll let you know."

The idea of being without his car was not at all pleasant but knowing that nothing serious had happened was a huge relief. The man's words comforted him.

"Now, about the price of the service."

Spoke too soon.

"Adding the value of the service, plus the labor and the car parking, it's around 85 thousand won."

The sound of that amount made a bitter taste rise in his throat. The profits from the last few days of work would all go to solve a problem that shouldn't even have happened. He supposed he deserved it, in the end.

"And the payment is in advance, Mr. Seong."

The man's crooked smile made Gi-hun mentally retract everything he had said about him being comforting. Without many options, he took the bills from his pocket and handed them over.

"I'll leave your car with Ali. You can talk to him if you have any more questions."

Kim pointed to a foreigner guy a little further ahead before disappearing, stuffing the money into his pants pocket. Gi-hun approached the so-called Ali, a dark-skinned and foreign man, not quite sure what to say. He wanted to ask about the current situation of the car, but he didn't know if the man spoke Korean.

Crouching in front of the front tire, the grease-covered mechanic stood up as soon as he noticed Gi-hun's approach, greeting him with a friendlier smile than he expected.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Seong. Nice to meet you, I'm Ali Abdul." The man's accent was strong, but every word was well pronounced. "Mr. Kim must have already informed you, but I'll take care of your problem."

"Nice to meet you too. And please, call me Gi-hun." He replied, shaking his head slightly in agreement. "You don’t seem to be from around here, where are you from?"

"Pakistan. My family and I moved a few years ago, I've been working here since I arrived. And you, where are you from?"

"Well, I'm from Ssangmun."

He smiled back at the friendly foreigner. To be honest, he had no idea where Pakistan was, but one thing was certain: Ali's Korean was really good.

"Ssangmun? This name is familiar, I think I know someone from there."

"Really? Who?" Gi-hun asked, interested. Who knows, he might know that person.

"Mr. Cho Sangwoo."

Unbelievable.

"Sang-woo Hyung? We've been friends since we were little. How did you meet him?"

"He rented a car a few months ago and had a problem with the brakes that needed fixing." Ali explained, smiling in camaraderie at discovering that they had mutual acquaintances. "He was kind of closed off, but very polite. He seemed like a nice guy."

Strange. Months ago, Sangwoo shouldn't have been abroad? Maybe he took a short trip to Korea before running into Gi-hun that day. They hadn't talked since then, and unconsciously, he was still waiting for his friend's call. If they met again, he would ask him about it, but for now, it was better to deal with the present problems.

"Yes, he's a really nice guy." He said, changing the subject. "Your boss told me he seemed busy, but you're already working."

"Hm? I think Mr. Kim was mistaken. You were one of my only customers and changing that part is very simple, I can release you in up to three hours."

"What? So that scoundrel charged the overnight parking for nothing?!"

Ali looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, probably not understanding what ‘scoundrel’ meant.

"We usually charge 70 thousand won for this type of service." He explained as best he could. "Anything more than that that has been charged... was probably a lie."

Suppressing a curse that threatened to escape, Gi-hun limited himself to punching the hood of the car—a terrible decision, considering the pain that shot up his hand. Now, in addition to being cheated out of 15 thousand won, he still had a throbbing fist.

Ali looked at him with some pity before placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Mr. Seong, I checked your tires and they're kind of poorly calibrated. Would you like me to take care of that for you? As you guys say... On the house?"

Gi-hun stared at him for a moment, assimilating those words. Was he really offering another service to compensate for the extra he was coerced into paying?

"Yes, that would be great. You are definitely a savior." He thanked, feeling a rare relief amidst the turmoil of the last few days. At least there were still good people, like Ali. Unlike the selfish strangers he had been meeting recently. "And call me Gi-hun."

"Gi-hun." Ali tested the name, smiling. This could be the beginning of a good friendship, he thought.

"Are you sure it's okay to do something like this?" He asked, still unsure.

Ali let out a chuckle.

"Mr. Kim is a very selfish man. It would be a pleasure to do this to you."

Smiling, Gi-hun almost forgot about the things that brought him there in the first place. After saying goodbye to Ali, with the promise to return to pick up the car in up to three hours, he began to wander the streets of the neighborhood without a specific destination, just looking for something to distract him while he waited.

He thought about sending a message to Dae-ho or Young-mi—either of the two who were in command at that moment—but, with the bomb that had fallen into the team's lap, they were certainly busier than ever. And the last thing he wanted was to be a nuisance.

Even in the middle of the afternoon, the streets still had a certain movement. Obviously, nothing compared to the frantic rush of the morning or the pulsating energy of the night, but there was something pleasant about that place at that time. Ordering a brewed coffee at a corner diner, he continued wandering aimlessly, watching the passing cars, the pigeons perched on the power lines, the people who came and went. Anything to help him not think about the inevitable.

Things will change from now on.

Without having to hide at night, without having to be so careful not to arouse suspicion, the game was now in the open. Each player knew exactly the other's hand.

The Taker would come to play

And Gi-hun would be waiting for him.

The thought brought with it a sudden flow of courage. Maybe it was time to finally send a message to the detective and ask for private lessons in self-defense.

And, if possible... a weapon.

The more he thought about it, the more he believed that, if he confronted his pursuer face to face, the only possible outcome would be the death of one or the other. The idea was frightening, and he just hoped that, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be the unlucky one.

A strong impact against his shoulder almost makes him lose his balance and fall backwards, but, fortunately, he manages to stay on his feet. The same cannot be said of his coffee cup, which spills all over his white shirt. Shit.

Turning to curse the one who had clearly bumped into him first, Gi-hun freezes as he recognizes the female figure hidden under the brim of a cap.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

The girl stared at him, equally stunned, taking a second to recognize him—before deciding it was better to run than deal with the consequences.

Without thinking, Gi-hun went after her, not really sure why. They ran through the streets, dodging people, squeezing through the tight spaces between passersby. She was faster, had the advantage of age and physique, and soon opened a gap of a few meters. Still, not enough to disappear from sight.

"Hey, you! Come back here, now!" He shouted, but the girl ignored him.

She crossed the street a second before the red light went out, forcing Gi-hun to almost throw himself into the middle of traffic to avoid losing her. That wouldn't stop him. How many times had he imagined what he would say if he met her again? He didn't blame her entirely for the things that happened, but she had her share of responsibility in that whole mess. At least she would have to learn a lesson.

When he saw her make a sharp turn and disappear between two stores, he knew he had cornered her. The alley was long and narrow, but it ended in a solid wall—a dead end.

He quickened his pace, taking advantage of the advantage. When he was close enough, he stretched out his arm to grab her by the shoulder, but, in a quick move, she pulled her elbow, throwing him off balance before pushing him against the wall.

Gi-hun hit the bricks hard, letting out a groan of pain. His arm was trapped behind his back, and the other was immobilized between his own body and the wall. It hurt like hell.

"What do you want?" She asked, tightening his arm even more as he tried to squirm to break free.

How could someone so small be so strong?

"You're the pickpocket who stole my money that day." He gasped, feeling the exhaustion of the chase weigh on him. "Did you know that, because of you, I almost died?!"

"I have nothing to do with that, so stop chasing me."

With one hand free, she began rummaging through Gi-hun's pockets, probably looking for something to steal.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you won't find anything there today." He laughed, feeling a bittersweet taste of victory and defeat at the same time. He had already spent all the money of the day with the car and the coffee. All he had left were the house keys. "You caught me on an atypical day, something that will never happen again."

"Shut up."

Annoyed by his chatter, she pushed him against the wall once more. It was then that his hip hit directly against the bricks, and he felt the belt buckle retract slightly. Small, but enough to activate the hidden mechanism.

The tingling started immediately.

A subtle, almost imperceptible vibration ran from the belt through his body.

As if it was calling someone.

Oh no.

Desperation made him squirm even harder, trying to break free from the girl.

"Shit, shit, shit."

She backed away slightly, confused by the sudden change in behavior, but did not lower her guard.

"What the hell are you doing?" She asked, looking at him like he was some kind of freak.

Gi-hun ignored her. He fiddled with the buckle, trying to somehow stop the activation, but it was useless. It was nothing more than a false alarm—but, even so, he had just activated a security device that he should only use in emergencies.

Was it an emergency?

Not exactly.

But he could still handle it without involving the team.

Right?

If No-eul hadn't made any intrusion so far, she had probably lost sight of him in the previous rush, which didn't help his situation much.

Looking for his cell phone, Gi-hun concluded that the best solution would be to simply send a message to In-ho, explain that he had activated the device unintentionally, apologize and move on. However, when his hand found his empty pocket, a slight despair took over him.

But not for long.

As soon as he raised his eyes, he saw the pickpocket holding the device in front of him, as if waiting for some explanation.

"Give it back." He demanded, his voice firm.

She didn't seem convinced.

"Why should I? And what's that on your belt?"

"I don't have time for this. Just give me back the cell phone."

"Give me a good reason."

Gi-hun sighed. He considered his options. He didn't want to do that, but he had no choice.

"If you don't give it back now, the police will be here in a minute."

The girl stared at him in disbelief, almost laughing at the absurdity. But, if there was something that Gi-hun couldn't do well, it was lying. When he told the truth, it was evident on his face. And, as she analyzed him, her incredulous expression began to fade, giving way to a silent hesitation. Maybe she wasn't entirely convinced, but the mention of the police clearly bothered her.

For someone like her, getting caught didn’t seem like an option.

The ringing of the phone filled the silence of the alley, and both were startled.

Even from a distance, Gi-hun read the name stamped on the screen: Young-il.

Without further hesitation, the girl threw the cell phone to him. With some difficulty, he managed to catch it with both hands before it fell to the ground.

"Put it on speaker." She ordered. "Be brief. Don't say anything unnecessary."

Not that he needed the warning. He already knew exactly what to say.

"In-ho… hi."

The pickpocket squinted, probably finding it strange the difference between the name saved in the contact and what he had just said.

"Listen, it was a misunderstanding. I pressed the button by accident."

"Are you sure you're okay, Mr. Seong?"

In-ho's voice carried a perceptible suspicion. He noticed Gi-hun's choppy and tense tone.

"Absolutely. Ahn, don't worry."

The call was silent for a moment, as if In-ho was talking to someone else in the room before returning to talk to Gi-hun.

"Okay. I'll ask Young-mi to turn off the tracker."

Gi-hun let out a sigh of relief, and the girl in front of him relaxed slightly as well.

"But, just to be clear, you better go home now."

Oops. They caught him.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'm sorry. I had a... uh, little unforeseen event."

"I see... If you’re not busy, I need to stop by your house later. I have something to give to you. I imagined you were worried about what happened, so I have something that could help put your mind at ease."

The genuine concern in the detective's voice made Gi-hun's blood warm.

"Yeah sure, that would be great. See you later."

"I’ll see you."

As soon as the call ended, Gi-hun felt a little less worried. He hadn't seen the detective in days, but he still sounded exactly as he remembered: serious about the case, but gentle when dealing with his safety. The tingling from the belt seemed to stop too

For a moment, he felt bad for doing such a bad job as bait. He should have been more concerned about his own safety, but, somehow, he always got into a different kind of trouble. He made a mental note to follow the team's orders from now on. Starting... after picking up the car at the workshop. He still needed it.

Lost in these thoughts, he almost forgot that he was not alone. The girl huffed, crossing her arms while watching him, uncomprehending.

"Honestly, mister... What the hell did you get yourself into?"

He stared at her, impassive. It was the first time that someone outside the police had asked him something like that.

"You don't want to know."

He put his cell phone in his pocket. It didn't seem like she would try to steal it again—whether out of pity or some other reason. He made a move to leave, she didn't. So, he turned his back, walking towards the street.

"Why didn't you let the police come?"

"What?"

"I said..." She took a deep breath. "If you were so bothered by me stealing your money that day, why didn't you let that policeman come?"

Gi-hun stopped.

Turning to face her, he realized that all the anger he had felt before had dissipated. There, head down, shoulders slumped, posture withdrawn... She almost looked like a skittish, frightened street cat, avoiding any human contact. He had been angry, yes. But it wasn't about the money anymore. Gi-hun wanted to talk to her, tell her everything he had to say since that day. He wasn't always the best with words, but he still wanted to try. He pondered, and, based on what he knew, shared what he believed to be best answer.

"You're an illegal immigrant, aren't you?"

She raised her eyes to him, as if his words had stabbed her. However, she neither denied nor confirmed. Gi-hun felt that he should continue.

"And you're waiting for someone. Someone who is still in there."

"Don’t" The answer came quickly, but her voice seemed more affected than she probably intended. "say things you don't know of."

He thought about retorting, pointing out that she had asked first, but he held back. In a way, he understood how she felt. He knew what it was like to have someone you loved in a place where you couldn't go. That's why he felt sorry for her. But he had already wasted too much time there. It was time for them to go their separate ways.

"I wish you luck, pickpocket. See you around." He put, finally, an end to that story of the robbery. Of course, this didn't change the fact that a killer was still relentlessly pursuing him, but at least he could move on without resentment.

He was turning to leave when he heard, almost imperceptible, a low and hesitant voice:

"Sae-byeok."

He stopped.

"Excuse me?"

"Kang Sae-byeok." She repeated, this time louder. "It's my name."

Gi-hun blinked, surprised, feeling the same way as when he finally managed to pet the stray cat in his neighborhood. A smile appeared on his face.

"My name is Seong Gi-hun. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ending the day, Gi-hun drove his newly repaired car back home.

Before arriving at the workshop, he received a well-deserved scolding from No-eul, who seemed clearly annoyed that he had run so carelessly. After apologizing, he promised never to do anything like that again, but he also didn't comment on the reason for running, nor did she ask about it.

In addition to the free tire calibration, Ali had washed the car and cleaned the dashboard, something that Gi-hun insisted on paying for, but which was promptly refused. According to Ali, that was already "included in his 15 thousand won extra", so all that remained was to thank him immensely. The man was clearly an angel.

Upon arriving, he parked in the garage and entered, being greeted not by the slight smell of mold, but by the aroma of new notes, which seemed to permeate every corner of the house, even though the money was restricted to the room. During the return trip, his mind returned several times to the message from The Taker, an uncomfortable reminder that things would get more serious from now on. Even so, the day's events distracted him enough not to sink into despair. Moreover, the simple idea that the detective would soon be there, bringing something that could help him feel safer, was comforting.

If he had to admit it, just In-ho's presence already made him feel protected, as if nothing could touch him while he was around. It was a silly idea, so he would keep that feeling to himself. He decided to take a shower before the detective arrived and went to the room, pulling the first piece of clothing he found in the closet, taking care not to even touch the scattered notes. With everything ready, he ran to the shower.

The hot water was more than welcome, washing away the dirt and fatigue of the day. The heat was strong, so it made sense that the water temperature would match. What he really feared were the rainy and cloudy days, when he was forced to face the biting cold while washing his hair. He rubbed his head calmly, his fingers massaging his scalp, and thought it was time to get a haircut. He liked the current length, but maybe he would trim the ends when he had time.

Moments like that were rare, when he could forget all the problems that plagued him, all the people, good and bad, that he had met recently, and focus only on himself. Maybe that was what they called sacred time. His stomach rumbled, warning him that he should eat something. Unconsciously, his mind took him to the memory of Sang-woo's mother's dried fish shop. They used to go there after school, where she would already be waiting for them with two skewers to stuff themselves.

Those were the good times that would never return.

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, abruptly pulling him from his memories. Woah, he arrived earlier than expected.

He finished his shower as quickly as possible. It would be rude to keep the detective waiting. He dressed hastily, drying his hair on top before reaching for the doorknob. His face was already lit up in a smile as he opened the door, but the expression fell apart the next moment.

Instead of the composed and neat presence of the detective, he came face to face with three tall and strong men, who were staring at him in a not at all friendly way.

"Yo, Gi-hun."

Mr. Kim's smile widened, revealing all his teeth.

"Long time no see, huh?"

Chapter Text

"Nothing to say?" Mr. Kim asked, his open—and far from friendly—smile making Gi-hun's stomach churn. "Unexpected, coming from someone who usually talks too much."

He tried to mutter something comprehensible, but his voice failed him. After so long without hearing from Mr. Kim and his cronies, the last thing he expected was to see them at his place. He usually wouldn't open the door without looking through the peephole, but he thought it was In-ho on the other side. No...

"Can we come in? We have important matters to discuss." Without waiting for an answer, the older man had already invited himself in, sliding through the door like a leisurely predator. His henchmen followed, deliberately bumping into Gi-hun, as if testing his reaction.

He took a deep breath. He thought about shouting, hoping Hyun-ju or No-eul would hear and come to his rescue. They could handle three loan sharks... Right? Maybe one of them was already alert, waiting for the right moment to act. If so, he just needed to buy time. He was good at that.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he closed the door and smiled, the best he could manage. "Mr. Kim, what a surprise. How have you been?"

The henchmen spread out through the living room—one near the kitchen door, the other blocking the entrance. The boss, in turn, sat at the coffee table, right above the camera-book given by the police. Damn. If it broke, he couldn't even charge for the repair.

"Bad, as you can imagine." His tone had lost its fake enthusiasm. "After your little show a few weeks ago, the police came after us. They took everything. They said that dying man was the real owner and everything had to be collected as evidence. All our three billion won."

Gi-hun hadn't heard from them since that day, and he didn't want to. He even thought—foolishly—that they had given up. That he would finally be free from at least one problem. But, of course, he was wrong.

"The cops kept an eye on us. We had to scale back our business, and in the process... we lost money. A lot of money."

Mr. Kim stood up slowly, his steps almost lazy. But Gi-hun knew better than to be fooled. With one of the henchmen blocking the exit, he had nowhere to go.

"I thought you were in jail, so I didn't even bother looking for you. So, imagine my surprise when I got a message from Woo-seok saying he saw you on the street the other day... Free. Carefree. While we lived under the constant threat of the police."

The man was a little shorter than Gi-hun, but he made up for the lack of height with presence. If he backed up any further, he would bump into the brute guarding the door. So, he stood firm, even as the loan shark leader approached, his intentions dripping from his sharp gaze.

"This kind of situation requires some kind of compensation, if you catch my drift." His voice dropped to a whisper. "That's why we came to let you know that the interest in the months you owe us has been... doubled."

The threat hung in the air before being reinforced: "And we want the new installment today."

"What?!" Gi-hun blinked, incredulously. "You can't do that."

"Not only can I, but I will." Mr. Kim pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open, waving the blade right in front of his eyes. "And if you don't have the money to pay, we'll take what you have."

A shiver ran down his spine. His eyes traveled to the bedroom door, locked. But that wouldn't stop them. They would go in. They would find out.

Damn. Where the hell was No-eul? Did she mistake the loan sharks' peaceful entry for a simple meeting and suspect nothing? However, there was still a chance. One last card.

Discreetly, he moved his hand towards his belt. He still had it, right? If he could grab the buckle without them noticing he could...

But his fingers touched nothing.

His blood ran cold.

The belt. He had left it in the bathroom, in his rush to get dressed. The realization fell on him like a concrete block. He braced himself to scream, hoping No-eul or someone would hear him. But before he could make a sound, a hand clamped over his mouth. A firm arm snaked around his chest, locking him in place.

Now he understood. The henchmen's positions weren't random. It was a trap. And he had fallen right into it. Three loan sharks against him, defenseless. And, even worse, the house was vulnerable. Something he had promised himself and the police team he would protect. He wanted to laugh at the irony.

"Take everything you find of value. Spare nothing." Mr. Kim's command was followed without hesitation. The other henchman was already holding a black bag, ready to fill it with everything he deemed important.

He started with the kitchen. The clinking of metal cutlery echoed through the apartment as he rummaged through drawers. He stirred some pans, opened the refrigerator, but apparently found nothing worthwhile. Shortly after, he returned to the living room and went straight to the shelf with Gi-hun's mother's plate collection.

No.

Gi-hun struggled, trying to break free from the grip, but the man holding him was much stronger. His reaction only brought a satisfied smile to Mr. Kim's face.

"Take everything that's there." He spoke. The pieces were thrown haphazardly into the bag. The sound of breaking ceramic pierced Gi-hun’s heart like a blade. Among those plates were the ones his mother had received as a wedding gift—and which, reluctantly, she had let him use on his own. As soon as he heard one of them break, his eyes burned with tears.

The henchman scanned the table for more items. By a hair's breadth, he picked up a small plant ornament, ignoring the special book. Gi-hun glanced at the hidden camera, hoping someone on the other side was watching and would send help immediately.

"There's nothing more here. Let's check the bedroom."

Gi-hun's body tensed. He knew his reaction hadn't gone unnoticed. Now, this was no longer a matter of pride—it was a matter of life or death.

He moved as much as he could, forcing the henchman to use both arms to restrain him. Finally, he managed to say

 "You can't go in there. Please, listen to me."

Mr. Kim watched him with amusement. "Afraid we'll discover your dirty little secrets, Gi-hun?" He teased. "Don't worry, we'll keep them very safe."

"Y-you don't understand..." His voice broke between the effort and the shortness of breath. "If you go in there, there's no turning back."

The threat sounded weak. Weak enough to draw a laugh from Kim. He certainly thought Gi-hun was bluffing. What they didn't understand was that, if they took that money, they would be signing their own death warrant.

"Open the bedroom door." The boss ordered, without taking his eyes off Gi-hun. The henchman grabbed the doorknob and shook it forcefully. The door trembled but held firm. For a moment, Gi-hun thought they would ask where the key was. But, in an act of pure impatience—and total contempt—the man kicked the door, forcing it open.

Silence filled the room. Time seemed to freeze. Perhaps it was the instant before the henchman recognized what Gi-hun was actually hiding there. The full black bag fell to the floor with a dull thud. The subordinate hesitated.

"B-boss? This is..." Mr. Kim, always the most curious, was already beside him before he could finish the sentence.

Gi-hun held his breath. His gaze was fixed on the backs of the two men, trying to decipher their reactions. This wasn't bad. It was terrible. Now, he no longer feared the beating he would probably take. The real danger was the money.

Last time, the police confiscated everything before it disappeared. But now? If the loan sharks took that amount, they could vanish off the map tomorrow and never be seen again, leaving Gi-hun alone to deal with the consequences.

Mr. Kim's laughter filled the room, leaving Gi-hun stunned. It started low and soft, then escalated into loud, booming laughter. His henchmen looked at him, equally shocked—not so much by the boss's exaggerated reaction, but by the veritable goldmine they had found in the bedroom.

The man holding Gi-hun craned his neck, trying to get a better look. "The police take our money," Mr. Kim said, still laughing. "We hide like a bunch of rats. And you stay here with all this money?!"

Gi-hun opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted in the act. "That guy you killed must have been very well-off. But what really surprises me is you managing to escape the police."

"It wasn't me!" Gi-hun defended himself immediately. How could they think he would kill an innocent person? "And this money... it's not mine. You can't touch it."

"Ha! All the more reason for us to take it. If the owner isn't here, he won't mind if we take a little, right, boys?" He raised his voice on the last phrase, making sure the henchman who was already in the room, busy collecting the bills and putting them in the black bag, heard him. As if hypnotized by the sound and smell of money, the other subordinate suddenly released Gi-hun and joined the looting.

Motionless, he just watched. Mr. Kim was now positioned at the door, like a bodyguard protecting the exit. The reality of the situation was hard to bear.

Without thinking, he lunged at the older man, grabbing his shoulders tightly, his eyes pleading. "Mr. Kim, please, you have to listen." He shook the loan shark's shoulders, desperately. "The owner of the money is dangerous. If you take it, terrible things will happen."

"Hmph, what happens after this is no longer my problem." Kim brushed his hands away with a sharp tug. "You've screwed us over many times, but not this time."

With a dry shove, he threw Gi-hun aside. He lost his balance and collided with the center table. The furniture gave way under his weight, breaking on impact. Dazed, he barely felt the splinters of wood scratching his skin, leaving thin trails of blood running down his arm.

That was it. This was the end. He wouldn't be able to stop them from taking the money. Would he die for this? Maybe the killer had some moral compass and would understand that this was out of his control. It wasn't his fault if the loan sharks broke into his house and stole everything. But, deep down, it was his fault for accumulating so much debt that put him in this situation. He didn't know what to think, and it was destroying him inside.

The leader joined the subordinates in collecting the money. They probably wouldn't be able to take it all with that single bag, but Gi-hun knew they wouldn't leave a single bill behind.

It was then that something reflected on the floor, catching his attention. He narrowed his eyes and recognized his own cell phone, lying near him. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he was immobilized. Holding his breath, he crawled silently to the device and picked it up with both hands.

Before he could unlock it to call for help, the sound of a notification filled the silence. The noise was so loud that it startled even him. It was a message from Dae-ho.

"Hey, I know today was a weird day for you, but could you send the daily report?"

The shock gave way to disbelief. He couldn't believe it. How could Dae-ho be so calm asking for a report but not looking at the damn house cameras?!

Before he could curse him again, a harsh sound of creaking wood caught his attention.

In the doorway, Mr. Kim stared at him. And his face was filled with fury.

"Calling the police? Not this time, Gi-hun." Mr. Kim crouched down, getting to the level where Gi-hun was kneeling. A cruel smile played on his face. "This time, we'll finish you before you can get any funny ideas."

Fear overwhelmed any rational thought. Maybe that's why Gi-hun threw the cell phone at Mr. Kim's head and propelled himself out of the house.

He would admit—it wasn't one of his best choices, if he had ever made any good ones in his life. But now it was all or nothing. Screw The Taker. If he stayed there, he wouldn't see the next morning. So, as he ran down the poorly lit street, his only thought was to escape. To escape and survive.

This was too familiar for his liking.

Running through confusing streets, chased by loan sharks, made him relive a certain night whose ending he knew was not pleasant at all. The only difference was that this time, he didn't expect to run into another killer while trying to escape. Once was a coincidence. Twice was too much.

Still, he knew he needed to find some hole to crawl into if he wanted to get out of this alive. Last time, he was pelted with screams, bottles, and curses. Now, Mr. Kim and his men chased him in silence, like predators hunting their prey. And with each passing minute, it became more evident that they didn't just want to teach him a lesson. They wanted to kill him.

Adrenaline burned in his blood, numbing any pain or fatigue. He ran without looking back.

By now, Gi-hun should have been used to the horror show his life had become. Maybe nothing in the world could surprise him anymore. If someone had told him, two months ago, that the biggest problem he would face would be running from death, he probably would have laughed. But now, that was his reality.

Ssangmun-dong was never the quietest neighborhood. Besides, is one of the poorest regions in Korea, its narrow alleys and old buildings gave the place an even more decadent air. Most of the residents were low-income, many of them elderly. It wasn't exactly the safest area, but Gi-hun had noticed an increase in the number of police officers patrolling in recent days—he didn't know if it was because of him or not.

Still, that didn't explain why the streets were completely deserted. It wasn't that late, probably not past nine at night, but as he turned corners and ran through the blocks, he didn't find a single living soul.

The idea of being killed in isolation was terrifying. No one to hear his screams. No one to help him. Just his abandoned body, rotting in oblivion until some unsuspecting person found it.

Maybe that's how The Taker's victims felt when they saw him approaching. For the first time, he found himself sympathizing with them more than he ever imagined.

His first rational thought was to run to the police station. It was a long walk there, but thanks to his brilliant idea of using the cell phone as a distraction, there was no other way to ask for help.

When he finally reached the main street, where the lighting worked, he felt a shred of security—if he could call it that. Some cars passed by on the avenue, but too fast for him to get anyone's attention. And he definitely didn't want to get run over trying to make them stop.

Running through a block filled with closed shops and dark alleys between them, Gi-hun felt like he was living in a horror movie. The truth was that his life was already a horror movie. But this? This was a new level, even for him. It was as if he was waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows and tear his heart out of his chest.

Looking back, he seemed to have lost his pursuers. Or at least he thought so. He could still hear distant footsteps, but after turning the corner, he saw the path was clear. Of course, he wouldn't stop until he reached the police station. There was no other safe place. Maybe Dae-ho was still working... Who knows, maybe even Jun-ho and—

Shit. He completely forgot that In-ho was supposed to meet him at his place. If he had gone there now, he could only imagine what the detective would think when he came across that mess—bills scattered, broken furniture, blood. It wouldn't take long to put two and two together.

As much as he hoped that something would stop the loan sharks, the only thing he wanted at the moment was peace and quiet. Something he had forgotten how to feel since this madness began. If he still had the phone, he could warn him where he was and what was happening. But, thanks to his stupid move, all he had left was to run.

Sweat dripped down his skin, and the pain in his joints intensified. His pace began to slow, and fear grew inside him—if the loan sharks turned the block now, he would be an easy target. Breathing heavily, he stopped walking, trying to recover even a minimum of breath before his body gave out.

But this wasn't the same scenario as the dark alley, where he could use the shadows as allies. He was completely exposed. Then he heard voices approaching. He tried to prepare to run again, but before he could take the first step, a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a dimly lit corridor—a narrow gap between two shops.

The shock was immediate. He turned, ready to scream, but the voice died in his throat when he faced a familiar face. "In-ho?!" The tone was so loud that the detective signaled for silence with his free hand, while the other still held his shoulder.

"How?" Pressed against the wall, Gi-hun could feel the warmth of In-ho's body. They weren't even that close, but the perfectly fitted brown overcoat seemed to radiate heat.

The detective didn't answer. In the silence, the sound of footsteps outside only increased. Gi-hun held his breath. This hiding place wasn't the best. It wouldn't be long before they were discovered. In-ho finally released him, looking at the bloody arm and putting his hand inside his coat. Gi-hun recognized the shape of a gun instantly.

"No." The word came out altered. He grabbed In-ho's arm tightly, using both hands. "Don't do it. Please."

It didn't matter that they had stolen from him. It didn't matter that they were chasing him or that they wanted to see him dead. He could never do the same. They didn't deserve that fate. If In-ho did something he would regret, he would be lowering himself to their level.

He was better than that.

Better than them.

The detective's gaze was unreadable, but after a few seconds, he put the gun away without arguing. However, giving up violence didn't solve the main problem: they were still vulnerable. If Mr. Kim and his men passed by there, they would see them. With no way out, Gi-hun tried to shrink even further into the corridor. But it wasn't deep enough. His survival instincts screamed—they would be discovered.

"What are we going to do?" He asked, a little desperate. They could fight, but he was sure he would let In-ho down in that aspect. Still, three against two was better than against one. But then, before he could panic, In-ho raised his arm beside his head, blocking his view of the street.

Confused, Gi-hun stared at the detective, who seemed to have thought of another solution. His hair was disheveled, unruly, just like the second time they met. He had probably taken a shower before going to his house, without any gel to hold the strands in place. Gi-hun would have to apologize later for dragging him back into the chaos that his life had become. Lost in these thoughts, he almost didn't notice the moment when In-ho moved even closer, their knees touching this time.

"I'm going to kiss you."

It didn't sound like a question, but an affirmation. Gi-hun's eyes widened. His mind went into a panic, like an overloaded system about to fail. He tried to formulate an answer, an objection, anything minimally coherent, but his mouth just opened without a sound, while his heart hammered furiously against his chest. He wanted to ask if In-ho was serious. He wanted to laugh out of pure reflex. But before he could do anything, the detective's lips had already sealed his.

The shock froze him in place. At first, his body rejected the contact, stiff as a stone against the cold wall. But the firm pressure of In-ho's lips, warm and unexpectedly soft, made something in his brain short-circuit. There was urgency in the kiss—not just as a planned gesture, but as if his safety depended on it. And, in fact, it did.

The footsteps of Mr. Kim and his men echoed closer and closer. Gi-hun wanted to believe that this was just a strategy, but the way In-ho deepened the contact, tilting his head and sliding his tongue against his parted lips, made it difficult to separate reality and disguise.

The detective's strong hand pressed his waist, pulling him closer, while the other slowly slid down his arm, up to his neck. Gi-hun felt trapped there, as if the world around him had simply ceased to exist. The air between them seemed charged, thick with the woody aroma of In-ho's coat and the clean scent of soap emanating from him. Without realizing it, Gi-hun closed his eyes and grabbed the fabric of the overcoat between his fingers. The rough texture was a tactile reminder that all of this was real. His breathing faltered, his knees weakened as In-ho's lips moved over his with careful precision.

He should have been focused on the imminent danger. He should have been hearing every detail around him, attentive to the presence of the loan sharks. But all he felt was warmth. Burning his face, spreading shivers down his spine. The sensation was overwhelming. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat a deafening cry that something was very, very wrong with himself. He shouldn't be so aware of In-ho's warm breath against his skin. He shouldn't notice the way their bodies fit together, like pieces of a puzzle made to be together. Then, finally, the footsteps faded.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the group stopping at the entrance of the alley. Time seemed to slow down, the silence hanging heavy in the air. Then, a short, mocking laugh broke the moment.

"Ah, crap." One of the henchmen scoffed. "We're wasting our time for nothing. They're just a couple of fags making out."

the tension in Gi-hun's shoulders increased at the comment, but his body had to relax in relief as he realized they were moving away. He heard the footsteps growing distant, the sound of the street returning to normal as the threat dissipated. And yet, In-ho took a few seconds longer than necessary to pull away. When he finally did, he stayed close enough that their noses almost touched. His breathing was still slightly accelerated.

Gi-hun, on the other hand, remained paralyzed. His eyes were wide, his face a mix of confusion and... something he didn't dare name. His lips still tingled, as if In-ho's touch remained there. The detective stared at him with an indecipherable expression. Evaluation. Analysis. And maybe something else. Something Gi-hun didn't know if he wanted to understand.

But before anyone could break the silence, In-ho moved away completely, adjusting the collar of his overcoat as if nothing had happened. "All right. They're gone." His voice was so controlled that it was almost irritating.

Still leaning against the wall, Gi-hun tried to process what the hell had just happened. They kissed. For a disguise of course. All this intimacy was to make the disguise look convincing, after all they had to keep the pursuers. That was all... right?

"Sorry if I caught you off guard, this was the only solution I could think of." The phrase came out calm, almost casual. But the way In-ho's eyes avoided his betrayed something more. He interpreted Gi-hun's perplexed expression as if the kiss had been a mistake. As if he had hated it. But the truth was exactly the opposite. And Gi-hun had no idea why.

"S-sure." That was all he could get out of his mouth, his voice trembling, a consequence of the activity—which, by the way, was completely valid for men to do with each other without ulterior motives, right? Right. —that they had just done. He couldn't understand how the detective seemed so composed, while he himself felt his world turn upside down. Thinking about it, he didn't understand anything that had happened there.

"How did you find me?" he asked, returning to the first unanswered question he had asked the detective. Without the phone and the belt, it would be almost impossible to know where he would be, so how?

In-ho looked at him with that enigmatic air as always, but his voice had at least a tone of concern. "I was going to your house when I got a message from Dae-ho saying you were in danger. That's when I saw you running from those men in this direction. It seems neither you nor they saw me, so I took the opportunity to enter this hiding place."

Well, it was a plausible explanation. "No-eul received an urgent call about a shooting in a nearby neighborhood, and since I was already on my way to meet you, I thought I could dispatch her there. I'm sorry, this shouldn't have happened."

Gi-hun resisted the temptation to ask if he was apologizing for the kiss, before realizing that it was for the whole situation in general. But just the fact that this had been his first assumption made his stomach churn. Why was that the thought his mind chose to have? He felt his face heat up, lowering his gaze, embarrassed. How could he face the detective now?

"At least they’re gone for now." he murmured, low, but enough for In-ho to hear him. The detective didn't respond with anything other than a slight smile—a smile that Gi-hun caught between his eyelashes when he raised his eyes out of reflex, only to look away again immediately afterward.

The pressure on his arm caught his attention. In-ho was holding his injured hand, analyzing the damage with a slight frown on his eyebrows. Gi-hun remained still as the detective worked on it, running his fingers along the length of his arm and pressing lightly to check if it hurt.

Each touch was a red alert. His brain screamed at him not to think anything other than the obvious—he's just checking the injury. That's all. But his body reacted differently, his skin burning where In-ho touched. He had to gather every ounce of self-control not to fixate on the detective's hands. For God's sake, he was a man. A man. Gi-hun closed his eyes for a second, trying to push away any thought that wasn't strictly rational. What the hell was happening to him? He hadn't felt like this in a long time, not since Eun-ji—my God, that's a terrible comparison. His chest tightened, and he had no idea how to deal with it.

"It's nothing deep, but you need to clean this," In-ho warned, releasing Gi-hun's hand. He remained still for a second longer than he should have before lowering it hastily.

"Do you have a medical kit at your place?"

"I don't..." want to go home. That's what he thought of saying, but the words didn't come out. This was ridiculous. Pathetic. He was afraid of his own home. His mother would turn in her grave if she knew how weak he had been, unable to protect her collection. But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was remembering that The Taker would soon find out what had happened, and that he no longer had a place to return to.

"Come to my place."

Gi-hun raised his head, still too embarrassed to look In-ho in the eyes but needing to confirm if he had heard correctly. The detective, understanding his doubt, repeated:

"I can take care of this wound. Come with me." Then he extended his hand. The warmth. That warmth that Gi-hun had been unconsciously—and now very consciously—chasing since they first shook hands.

This was a terrible idea.

He accepted anyway.

In-ho's apartment was everything he expected and more. The detective always seemed more sophisticated than his colleagues—if the overcoat, tie, and hair gel weren't already an indication—and Gi-hun really expected his home to reflect that trait of his personality. And, well, he certainly wasn't disappointed.

Apparently, Jun-ho had taken the car, so they had to walk back to In-ho's apartment complex. Encountering the loan sharks along the way was a possibility, but with the detective by his side, Gi-hun felt safer.

They walked side by side, without talking much. In these situations, Gi-hun would normally be the first to break the ice, known for his extroverted nature. But embarrassment and anxiety trapped him in an unusual silence, limiting himself to answering the few questions In-ho asked him—if he was okay, if the wound still hurt.

The detective also didn't seem like the type who liked small talk, but he made a visible effort to make him comfortable, probably due to what had happened earlier. Gi-hun couldn't tell if it helped, but he appreciated the intention.

The building's entrance—I mean, skyscraper—was extremely elegant, with double doors separating the lobby from the street, accessed by magnetic keys, like the ones his own house now had. They went up to the sixth floor in silence, and as soon as they entered the apartment, a refreshing scent of mint and a familiar aroma of cinnamon greeted them.

In-ho went in first, leaving the door open in a silent invitation for Gi-hun. Shortly after, he took off his shoes and hung his overcoat on a hook. He also took off the black jacket he was wearing underneath, remaining only in a white shirt and tie—which he loosened with a casual gesture—acquiring a strangely relaxed appearance.

Gi-hun had never stopped to think about it before, but the detective wore many layers of clothing. Didn't he feel hot? He seemed so comfortable in his own home, and Gi-hun couldn't help but notice how the muscles in his arms flexed as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Probably the result of years working in the police and—

He blinked. There was something very wrong with him.

Discomfort exploded like an electric shock down his spine when he realized he was still standing in the entrance, without even taking off his shoes. He hurried to do so, closing the door behind him.

The first thing he noticed was that the living room seemed bigger than his entire apartment. The decor was minimalist but sophisticated, with modern paintings and black shelves filled with books and vinyl records. He didn't even want to ask how much a detective earned so as not to sound disrespectful, but in a next life, he would definitely pursue that career if that was the kind of reward.

In addition to a television that seemed three times bigger than his, an incredibly inviting sofa occupied a generous space in the room. But what caught his attention the most was the black grand piano in the corner of the room. He had no idea how to play, but he felt tempted to approach.

"It's more of a hobby now, but I was very good when I was younger," In-ho commented, his voice a little muffled as he headed towards an annex that probably led to the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? Whiskey?"

Gi-hun really wanted to ask the detective to play something, but shame stopped him. Thinking about it, getting drunk while having these... uh... 'irrational thoughts' didn't seem like the wisest decision. But at the same time, alcohol was a great remedy for forgetting things. Besides, maybe he wouldn't have another opportunity to try real whiskey in his life.

"That would be great, thank you," he said, running his fingers over the piano keys, but not actually touching them. Up close, he also saw a vinyl record player, as well preserved as the piano. Everything there seemed perfectly organized, clean, meticulously in place. The only thing out of place was him—with his wrist bleeding and his clothes dirty.

In-ho returned to the living room holding a glass with ice and a golden drink in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. "Please, sit down," he instructed, with his usual naturalness.

Moving away from the instrument, Gi-hun walked to the sofa and sat down. Too fast. The upholstery was so soft that he almost lost his balance, sinking every time he tried to adjust to a better position. Perfect. Now, in addition to being physically uncomfortable, his mind was also a mess.

In-ho sat next to him, making it easier to move now that the weight was better distributed on the sofa. However, the sudden proximity made Gi-hun feel hyper-aware again. Before, he could still disguise it well—or so he liked to think. But now, he feared there was nowhere left to run.

The detective offered him the glass, and Gi-hun took it, smelling the drink before taking an experimental sip. The liquid burned his throat, much worse than soju, and he had to suppress the sudden urge to cough. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. Probably something typical of expensive drinks.

"Give me your hand." Gi-hun obeyed without questioning, extending his injured wrist. As soon as the gauze touched his skin, cleaning the dried blood, he had to suppress the urge to pull his arm away. In-ho worked with precision, removing small splinters with tweezers before applying an antiseptic ointment. The burning was instantaneous, but Gi-hun forced himself to ignore it.

"By the way, what was that thing you wanted to give me? You know, the reason for the visit?" he asked, looking for any distraction.

"Oh, that." In-ho raised his eyebrows slightly, as if he had just remembered. "I talked to the technology department, and they lent me one of their experimental tasers. They said it's strong enough to knock down a horse. I thought it would be a good weapon for you to have, in case you run into The Taker."

Gi-hun followed the detective's gaze to the hanging overcoat. So, he had it with him the whole time. Maybe it was even the same taser In-ho would have used against the loan sharks, if they had found them—and Gi-hun had stopped him from using it. Well, in the end, they managed to solve the problem without weapons. Just with a... kiss.

He blinked, pushing the memory away as quickly as he could.

The detective said he would give him the tool later, and Gi-hun thanked him, once again touched by the other's concern for his safety. While In-ho finished bandaging his hand, careful hands enveloping his cold skin, Gi-hun gathered the courage to ask about the elephant in the room.

"How did he find out?" His voice was low. He watched In-ho's fingers attentively as he finished the bandage. "I mean, we didn't give any indication of the operation. How could he have found out everything so quickly?"

The detective's movements stopped for a moment. Gi-hun didn't look up to see his expression, just waited. After a brief silence, In-ho resumed his work, securing the end of the gauze with adhesive tape. As expected, the final result was impeccable.

"This would probably be discussed at tomorrow's meeting," he commented, his voice calm but slightly thoughtful. "But since you're here, I don't think it hurts to tell you a little about what we've already discovered."

Gi-hun adjusted himself on the sofa, tense. They were so close that their knees touched—a detail he had been painfully aware of since they sat down. To avoid embarrassment, he preferred to keep his eyes on his own bandaged wrist.

"As far as the task force is concerned, there were no failures or oversights," the detective continued. "Both the field and operational teams maintained strategic positions, keeping a safe distance and always covering any possible tracks."

It was interesting to hear In-ho talk about his team. His words were well chosen, but there was a certain pride in the way he referred to them. Even from the little he interacted with the rest of the task force, Gi-hun could tell that the feeling was mutual. They seemed like a small family.

"Therefore," In-ho continued, "the only person who could have compromised the mission would be you."

Oh, crap. Panic hit even before his brain fully processed the information.

"Damn it. I'm sorry, In-ho!" His voice came out louder than he intended, betraying his nervousness. "I... I don't know how that happened! I thought everything was normal, I didn't know he could—"

He tried to explain, his voice faltering as anxiety grew. He knew, from the beginning, that he wasn't good at this job. It was obvious that he would screw everything up. But... when? When had he made the mistake? Was it that time he dropped the fridge magnet and spent four hours trying to make it work? Or when he met Hyun-ju on the street and talked to her without thinking?

But before he could dive even further into his own despair, a laugh interrupted his spiral of self-deprecation. In-ho's laugh.

"Don't take it so literally," In-ho explained, between laughs. "I'm not saying you were the one who revealed the police surveillance, at least not consciously. But he must have noticed something from your behavior or body language."

Of all the times he had seen the detective laugh—and he could count them on his fingers—this one seemed the most genuine. Unlike what Gi-hun expected, In-ho wasn't angry about the failure of the surveillance operation. On the contrary, his reaction to Gi-hun's despair made it clear that it amused him. Enough that, for a moment, the tension dissolved from Gi-hun's shoulders, and he almost joined the laughter, that is, if he wasn't still so shocked by the news.

"Anyway, that doesn't matter anymore," In-ho continued, still with a trace of humor in his voice. "Thanks to the feat he did this morning, we got important information for the case."

When his laughter died down, his tone returned to serious, although he seemed a little more relaxed.

"What kind of information?" Gi-hun asked, risking a glance at the detective—who, thank God, was looking away.

"Don't worry about that now, you must be tired. Let's leave the work talk for later." In-ho got up, extending his hand to take the glass that Gi-hun, distracted by the conversation, had barely drunk.

"Ah, yes. Of course." He handed over the glass and also stood up, without much idea of what to do now. Instinctively, he followed In-ho to the kitchen.

Only then did he realize that the detective was off duty. The last thing he should want to discuss was the case, but Gi-hun couldn't think of any other subject besides the serial killer who was chasing him. Well, at least until now. Since he entered that apartment, he realized how little he knew about In-ho. He, on the other hand, probably knew everything about Gi-hun's life, thanks to the investigation.

Still, there were small details from which Gi-hun could draw conclusions. From what he had observed so far, In-ho was a cultured person, with a refined musical taste and, possibly, some talent for instruments. He was also someone organized and not extravagant. People say that the house reflects its owner, and he could see In-ho's personality stamped in every corner of that place. Unfortunately, the same could be said of his own house—whole on the outside but destroyed on the inside.

Forcing himself not to fall into self-deprecating thoughts, Gi-hun looked for a conversation topic. Decoration? Maybe. Drinks? Better not. Music? Could be good. But as they passed through the hallway leading to the kitchen, his gaze fixed on something specific.

"Your wife is very beautiful. What's her name?" In-ho stopped walking abruptly, almost making Gi-hun bump into him.

The object of his curiosity was a framed photo. In-ho and a beautiful woman were hugging, smiling. It was the only personal photo he had seen in the entire house. It must be special, he thought.

"She's not..." The detective tilted his head slightly but kept his eyes on the floor when he cleared his throat, as if he needed to force the words out. "She's no longer alive."

Ah. Well, Gi-hun should consider it a talent to be able to embarrass himself so quickly.

"I'm sorry." The words came out automatically. Even seeing only his profile, he noticed that In-ho didn't seem sad or angry about the mention of his wife. His tone was empty, emotionless.

"It's okay. It's been a long time." He didn't seem to want to dwell on the subject, and as curious as he was, Gi-hun wouldn't ask. The two didn't have much in common, but at least they shared the same bad luck when it came to women.

Okay, that was a horrible thing to think. He definitely needed to sleep.

While In-ho walked to the sink to wash the glass, Gi-hun took the opportunity to analyze the kitchen. The double-door refrigerator was huge, and the countertops seemed to be made of some kind of expensive black stone. The dining table easily seated eight people, and even the condiment shelves were perfectly organized. Not to mention the variety of appliances he could only dream of buying with his meager salary.

Each room harmonized perfectly with the other. Nothing seemed random or out of place. Clearly, everything there had been thought out very carefully.

"Gi-hun." The sound of his own name snapped him out of his reverie. Whenever he heard it said by the detective, he felt something stir inside him. Now, with all the things he shouldn't be imagining infiltrating his mind, it definitely did not do him any good.

"You can have the bed. It was a long day and tomorrow will be even longer."

"No way. I-I don't want to bother." That was just one of the reasons he didn't want to accept the bed. He wouldn't give in. "I'll take the couch, no problem."

When Gi-hun tried to leave the kitchen and head to the living room, a firm hand landed on his chest, interrupting his path. In-ho placed himself between him and the exit, blocking his passage.

"I'm afraid I must insist." The detective's palm remained where it was, firm against the fabric of his shirt. "After all, what kind of host would I be? I need to make sure you're alright."

Gi-hun raised his eyes, hesitantly. And then, in a whisper, he asked.

"Because I'm your witness...?"

He wasn't sure what he wanted to imply by saying that, but he felt that, somehow, this question would give him an answer he needed to hear.

In-ho stopped. His eyes fixed on him as if trying to decipher his intentions. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, and the silence between them seemed to stretch longer than it should. Then, slowly, a smile appeared on his lips.

"Yes."

It was a simple word, but said with a weight that made Gi-hun hold his breath. It was enough to send a shiver through his body, in places he didn't even know could shiver. They weren't as close as they had been, but with the detective staring at him like that, for a second, he almost believed he would kiss him again. And the scariest part was that Gi-hun wouldn't mind at all.

But the moment was short-lived. Before he could even react, In-ho had already moved away, walking to the doorframe. Gi-hun blinked a few times, stunned, forcing his mind back into place and trying to suppress any thoughts he shouldn't be having. If the detective noticed his distracted behavior, he didn't comment. He just waited for him to follow him to the other room.

Shyer than ever, Gi-hun obeyed.

The suite was decorated as harmoniously as the rest of the apartment, but had less information, looking like a regular bedroom. Or rather, a fancy hotel room. The bedspread was perfectly aligned—which in itself made him envious, considering he currently slept on a cheap futon—and the organization was impeccable. But what caught his attention the most was the black mask hanging on the wall.

Its angular and geometric design made its expression enigmatic. The opaque black absorbed the little light in the room, making it almost a solid shadow. Gi-hun had no idea what it represented and, honestly, felt too confused to ask now.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. You can use any item in the bathroom in the morning," In-ho said from the door, watching him look around. "Have a good night."

"In-ho, wait." The detective was already turning to leave when he stopped at his call.

"I just... wanted to thank you. Not just for today, but for everything." Thinking about all the times In-ho had saved him from trouble, he realized he had never really thanked him. And, as nervous and confused as he was about everything that had happened that night, he felt he owed him that.

"Really. Thank you very much." At first, In-ho's expression was neutral. But then his eyes softened, and his lips curved into a smile. And Gi-hun could only describe it as... beautiful.

"You're welcome."

Chapter Text

The early morning was hectic, to say the least.

Unlike the hotel, Gi-hun took a while to fall asleep, unaccustomed to the strange room he was in. The mask on the wall above the bed didn't help much either. Even seeing only the bottom part of it, he could almost swear it was staring at him, making the task of sleeping even more difficult. He thought about taking it down and putting it in a drawer, but he didn't want to touch In-ho's things without his permission—especially something that seemed to be of so much value to him.

Even though he managed to sleep at some point, it didn't help that the owner of the room was constantly on his mind, even in his dreams—or should he say nightmares—because, when he woke up, he had a surprise not at all pleasant waiting for him under his pants. Something that hadn't happened since he was a teenager and, honestly, didn't expect it to happen again now.

It was a relief that the room had an attached bathroom, because he would rather die than have to walk down the hall to the other bathroom outside. He took the coldest shower he could stand and put on the same clothes from the day before. He even had the opportunity to comb his hair, even though he knew he would need to change clothes soon. But going home meant facing the new reality that haunted him—and he wasn't ready for that.

It was curious how, most of the time he was in In-ho's apartment, he rarely worried about the fact that his house had been broken into and robbed—and that now his life could be more at risk than ever. Well, at some point he would have to deal with that.

As soon as he left the room, he found In-ho already standing. All layers of clothing in place, except for the overcoat. He had slept in his clothes from the night before, just like Gi-hun, but that didn't surprise him. It must be common for a police officer to spend more than 24 hours in the same clothes. Being a detective was not an easy job.

They greeted each other, and In-ho informed him that Jun-ho would stop by to take them to the department. Gi-hun suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape. They had a lot to discuss about what to do from then on, he just didn't think it should be so soon. Before that, however, the detective offered a coffee to start the day, which Gi-hun gladly accepted.

After some time in the kitchen, In-ho returned to the living room with two steaming mugs. His looked like pure coffee, while Gi-hun's had a lighter brown tone.

"Coffee with milk... how did you know I like that?"

"Oh, Dae-ho told me, so i figured you would like it."

That reminded him of a conversation he had with Dae-ho, but he never imagined that the detective would care to know—and that he would remember that. While taking a generous sip of the perfectly prepared and deliciously hot drink, he tried not to think about how his heart warmed with that discovery.

Shortly after they finished drinking in silence, a ringtone on In-ho's cell phone informed them that Jun-ho was already waiting for them downstairs. While the detective finished collecting his belongings, Gi-hun just waited, since he hadn't brought anything he needed to take back.

The two went down in the elevator and headed to the building's exit, where Jun-ho was waiting for them in the driver's seat of his brother's expensive car. In-ho settled into the front seat, and Gi-hun sat in the back. Jun-ho seemed surprised to see him there, but still greeted him naturally.

"Good morning, hyung, and good morning, Mr. Seong."

They exchanged glances through the rearview mirror, and Gi-hun smiled at the other's calm expression. Jun-ho looked exhausted, with his hair a little disheveled and dark circles under his eyes, but, to be fair, neither he nor In-ho looked much better. It had been a long day for everyone.

"Good morning, brother. I hope you managed to rest at least a little." In-ho commented as he put on his seat belt, and the car started.

"I wish. I stayed up late finishing analyzing the latest data we collected." Jun-ho drove a little more hastily than his brother, but without exceeding the limit, probably wanting to shorten the time to the department. "The result was exactly as expected."

"Then this calls for an emergency meeting."

In-ho was already taking his phone out of his pocket, calling someone to schedule the meeting. From the back seat, Gi-hun couldn't gauge how bad that news could be, but whatever it was, it could not be good.

The trip continued in silence, except for In-ho, who called two more people to talk about the meeting. Gi-hun spent most of his time looking out the window, watching the unfamiliar neighborhood passing before his eyes. Most of the buildings were tall and imposing, with a few scattered houses—but equally expensive-looking.

Some time ago, he would have envied the people who lived there, having so much money to spend. But now that he had more money than they probably earned in a year, he didn't feel happy.

Quite the opposite.

At some points, Gi-hun noticed Jun-ho watching him in the rearview mirror. Whenever he felt that Gi-hun was about to return the look, however, he looked away. That didn't particularly bother him—or at least that's what he thought—until In-ho ended his last call.

"So, Hyung." Jun-ho began, as soon as he saw his brother put away the phone. "You mentioned last night that Mr. Seong was having problems, but you didn't say he would be staying at your house. Was there any... specific reason?"

The sound of that question instantly caught Gi-hun's attention, and he began to pay closer attention to the conversation. He didn't like the direction this seemed to be taking at all.

"No particular reason." In-ho replied, impassively. "Why?"

"No particular reason." Jun-ho shrugged, mimicking his brother's tone.

Okay, now Gi-hun definitely didn't like the direction of this conversation. The insinuation was clear, and he felt he should intervene so that Jun-ho wouldn't get the wrong idea about what was happening between him and In-ho.

"You know, I was being chased by loan sharks, and In-ho saved me. Then he let me sleep at his place because my house was broken into and they were still around, and—"

"Mr. Seong." Jun-ho interrupted him politely, offering him a smile. "It's all right."

It's all right? What the hell does that mean?

"By the way, I'll dispatch a patrol team to take a look at your residence later. Maybe they'll find some trace of the men who broke in." Jun-ho reassured him, changing the subject. But, honestly, that didn't help at all.

Gi-hun couldn't find any more words to contribute to that conversation, so he limited himself to staying quiet for the rest of the way. He unconsciously licked his lips, remembering the kiss, and felt an enormous urge to shrink into the car seat until he disappeared.

If Jun-ho was already suspicious—of something that didn't even exist, okay?—without even knowing about that fact, imagine if he did.

Deciding that he wouldn't be able to look into the eyes of the man whose brother he had kissed, Gi-hun went back to looking out the window for the rest of the way. He was so distracted that after a while he almost missed the moment when the car stopped in the police department parking lot. The brothers got out first, and he soon joined them, going through the entrance and heading to the case operations room. Along the way, however, a voice called his name from a distance.

"Mr. Gi-hun! Mr. Gi-hun!"

The voice echoed through the hallway, getting louder and louder as the person approached. Gi-hun stopped where he was and turned to see Dae-ho running towards him, dodging other detectives and officers along the way.

"We'll go ahead and organize some things." In-ho warned, already walking alongside Jun-ho. Gi-hun nodded, and waited for the younger man.

As soon as Dae-ho got close enough, he was out of breath and had a desperate expression.

"Mr. Gi-hun, PLEASE forgive me."

His head was so bowed that, for a moment, Gi-hun thought he was going to hit his face on the floor.

"During that time I was on my break and then I had to go to the bathroom. It was only when I came back and saw the cameras that I realized what was happening."

"It's all right, Dae-ho. You can raise your head now, I forgive you." Gi-hun said, a little uncomfortable with the young man's exaggerated actions, which were already attracting the attention of some people.

"It's not all right." Dae-ho insisted, his voice filled with guilt, although he was already standing up. "Because of me, you could have been seriously hurt."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I tried calling your phone several times, but it kept going to voicemail. Thank God Captain Hwang was around at the time, otherwise it would have been a real tragedy. I'm sorry again."

To tell the truth, Gi-hun was quite angry with Dae-ho while he was trapped and being threatened by the loan sharks. But, seeing the genuine despair and concern in his eyes, he couldn't hold on to that anger for long.

Dae-ho looked like a puppy who had just been scolded, and that made Gi-hun's heart melt.

"Dae-ho, seriously. I'm fine now. I forgive you." Gi-hun put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him and show that he really wasn't angry.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Gi-hun. You're a great person." Dae-ho's face soon lit up, and he smiled at Gi-hun, relieved.

"Wow, I didn't know we were praising murderers now. I must be getting too old for this job."

A new voice interrupted the conversation, loaded with disdain. Gi-hun turned in time to see the unpleasant Detective Park approaching. He immediately recognized him as the same man who had arrested and interrogated him on the first day he set foot in the police station. Park seemed even more bitter than Gi-hun remembered—not that he remembered much about him, to begin with.

"Urgh, don't mind him." Dae-ho said, crossing his arms with a defiant expression. "He's just sulking because the prosecution released his last suspect. His terrible intuition for finding criminals is showing."

Park's jaw tightened as his dark eyes scanned Gi-hun with palpable hostility. Gi-hun didn't feel intimidated, but the latent hatred in the detective's eyes made him flinch instinctively.

"If I were you, Dae-ho, I'd be careful with your friendships." Park said, his voice as cold as steel. "You never know what kind of trouble they can bring you."

With that, Park walked away, leaving a trail of tension in the air before he started yelling at some subordinate on the other side of the room.

Dae-ho rolled his eyes theatrically, and Gi-hun couldn't help but laugh, feeling the tension dissipate little by little. The two of them walked down the hallway, heading towards the meeting room. Neither of them wanted to keep the Hwang brothers waiting to start.

On the way, they passed in front of the forensics lab. Gi-hun noticed the blood analyst he had met weeks ago, standing behind a glass panel. As soon as he noticed him, the man watched him with that same strange and frightening smile. Gi-hun hadn't thought much about him in the past few days, but the discomfort came back strongly now that he saw him again. The sinister smile that the man kept even after looking away made Gi-hun feel a shiver.

Definitely strange.

He felt like asking Dae-ho what was wrong with that guy—but decided to leave it for later.

When they arrived at the meeting room, the rest of the team was already positioned. Hyun-ju and Young-mi were talking in a corner; No-eul was leaning against the wall opposite the large brown board; and the Hwang brothers were discussing something in front of the same board, their faces serious and focused.

"Ah, there you are. We were about to start." In-ho announced as soon as he saw them enter, interrupting the conversations to signal that the meeting would begin.

No-eul approached, while Hyun-ju sat on the edge of the table where Young-mi was working. Gi-hun stood next to Dae-ho, and Jun-ho positioned himself to his brother's right, leaving space for In-ho to stand in front of the board, where he could see everyone in the room.

"As you know, yesterday we had contact with The Taker."

Gi-hun swallowed hard. Here we go.

"At first, besides the choice of location for the message, there was no evidence connecting it to our current case. However, from yesterday to today, we were able to discover some very relevant information that may help us solve the case."

Okay, that seemed promising. The rest of the team seemed equally intrigued, leaning slightly forward in anticipation. Even No-eul, who rarely showed interest so openly, raised his chin attentively.

"We're going to share our findings now. Jun-ho, please proceed."

"Thank you, Hyung." Jun-ho switched places with his brother, holding a thick stack of documents. He knew what that meant: lots of information, lots of details.

"Well, as we know, the message was left at the first victim's house, Mr. Oh Il-nam. That in itself was an important indicator that it was the 'Given-Taker Killer' together with the letter. But, in addition, we cross-referenced the dates with our database and discovered something interesting."

Jun-ho paused, flipping through a few pages before raising his eyes to the group.

"Yesterday coincided with the exact date that Oh Il-nam was murdered, June first—about five years ago."

Gi-hun's eyes widened a little with this information, he had no idea.

"Makes sense. He's the kind who likes symbolic things, isn't he?" Hyun-ju commented, her arms crossed over her chest, and Young-mi nodded in agreement.

"Wow, this guy is really crazy. Can you imagine how long he's known about the operation and waited until this day to send the message? Sinister." Dae-ho said.

This time, Gi-hun's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that. How long could The Taker have known about that and been waiting for the right moment? A bitter taste formed in his mouth with that possibility.

"Another important detail is the blood." Jun-ho continued. "We collected a sample for analysis and got a match. Young-mi, can you show us?"

Young-mi typed something on the computer. In-ho turned off the lights in the room and a projector—which Gi-hun hadn't even noticed before—projected a beam of light directly onto the white board next to the evidence wall.

Images of the crime scene appeared in sequence. Photos taken from various angles—close-up, far away, left and right—captured every bloody detail. The red smudges on the light wooden floor formed clear words, the wine red contrasting with the pale tone of the floor. Gi-hun felt his stomach churn.

"I thought we had a deal, but I was misled. Yet time still remains—the game's just ahead."

The phrase was written with disturbing care, the blood spread almost artistically. Gi-hun felt a cold shiver run down his spine. If he had seen that yesterday, he would definitely have had nightmares.

"The blood used in the message was none other than Mr. Oh Il-nam's own."

This didn't seem to shock the other team members as much. They seemed more disgusted than surprised.

"Does that mean he... I don't know... collected the victims' blood?" Dae-ho asked, visibly uncomfortable with the idea.

"We had never considered the possibility of him keeping 'trophies' of his crimes, but it's the only possible explanation for having possession of this." In-ho replied, his tone cold. "This was the first time he slipped up and gave us a new clue. This allows us to assume that he has advanced knowledge in blood storage. To be preserved in this way for so long, he would need specific equipment."

"Ewww. Storing blood for five years? It has to be someone really weird." Dae-ho seems to shudder at his own comment. And Gi-hun shrank back as he felt the involuntary thought arise in his mind.

Of course, the mention of blood and Dae-ho's comment led him straight to the memory of that blood analyst. The other man's morbid fascination with blood had made him uncomfortable since their first meeting. But that was unlikely. He had no proof that the analyst was involved, and the mere thought of raising that suspicion seemed absurd and unfounded.

In-ho cleared his throat, drawing the team's attention again. "It's not over yet. There's one more thing we found out. But I need you all to promise that you won't spread the information you're about to hear with anyone. Did you hear? With anyone."

Jun-ho scanned the room, agreeing with his brother, his serious gaze running over each team member. Gi-hun felt the tension in the air grow like a storm about to break. Even so, he nodded along with the others. The weight of it made him uneasy—if it was something so important, he needed to know.

Jun-ho finished his round on his brother, who nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"From now on, everything you hear in this room stays in this room." Jun-ho reinforced, his tone slightly threatening. "If anyone asks you anything, say you don't know or it's none of your business. Is that clear?"

The silence was total. Gi-hun had never considered Jun-ho an intimidating person, but from the tone and the stone expression on his face, it was clear that he wasn't kidding. Whatever it was, it had serious consequences.

"Right." He continued. "Bills were identified scattered on the floor of the house, near the message, similar to the other crimes of The Taker. And that didn't seem strange, considering his pattern. But while we were collecting the money, we noticed an important detail."

Jun-ho went through the projector photos, highlighting a particular note. The camera had captured a small drawing on the bottom of the bill.

"One of the notes had a small umbrella drawing."

"An umbrella?" Dae-ho repeated, confused.

"It may seem silly at first, but cross-referencing this information with Oh Il-nam's records, we discovered that it was his lucky bill." Jun-ho made a significant pause, his dark eyes shining with intensity. "It was the first note he had won from the killer, on a rainy day, so he made this drawing and kept it until the day of his death."

"He really kept a note given by his future executioner and years later uses it to remember his death? How poetic." Hyun-ju commented, her tone loaded with irony.

Young-mi let out a discreet giggle, and Dae-ho smiled slightly. However, Gi-hun and No-eul remained silent, the tension in their shoulders showing that they were waiting for the bomb that seemed about to drop.

"It may be," Jun-ho said, his tone somber. "But the point is: it wasn't The Taker who kept the bill."

The silence that followed was absolute, dense as smoke. Everyone in the room was still, their tense eyes fixed on Jun-ho.

"W-what does that mean?" Gi-hun was the first to break the silence, the confusion evident in his voice. "Why is everyone so shocked by this?"

Jun-ho stared at him, his gaze sharp as a blade. "It was kept in the evidence room, here in the homicide division."

The room seemed to freeze. Gi-hun felt his heart race, his chest tightening with the implication behind those words.

"Wait... What you're saying is that..."

"The only ones who have access to this type of confidential information are accredited members of the South Korean Police Department." Jun-ho said slowly, his words loaded with the weight of the revelation. "That means that whoever The Taker is..."

Gi-hun's eyes widened.

"...he has a contact within the police."

Dae-ho held his breath. Young-mi put her hand to her mouth. No-eul, who rarely showed emotion, frowned, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Or worse," In-ho continued for his brother, his voice low like a cold whisper. "He is someone from the police."

The following moments were a jumble of indignant and confused murmurs.

Hyun-ju seemed furious, frowned with frustration. Dae-ho, on the other hand, seemed more scared than indignant, his brow furrowed in nervousness. Young-mi didn't say anything, but even No-eul seemed a little surprised by the revelation. And Gi-hun? Honestly, he didn't know what to say.

The feeling of knowing that he might have crossed paths with the man who wants to kill him—maybe more than once—was almost numbing. He felt like he was adrift at sea, looking up at the sky and waiting for the inevitable end. His thoughts quickly returned to the blood analyst, considering again whether he might have had anything to do with it. This was all so confusing and scary.

While his mind dissociated about how bad the situation really was, Jun-ho tried to calm Hyun-ju.

"Look, I'm not here to accuse anyone." Jun-ho's voice was firm, but controlled. "But our investigation revealed that he must have, at least, some connection to the police."

"How can you make such a serious accusation based on a single thing?" Hyun-ju retorted, her arms crossed defiantly. "He could very well have planted a fake bill on purpose."

"We considered that possibility, Officer Cho." Jun-ho's tone remained impassive. "We checked all the evidence from the crime in question. And, as expected, the bill wasn't there."

Hyun-ju pressed her lips together, visibly annoyed. "You can't think that this alone proves anything..." Her voice came out weaker this time, her resistance beginning to give way.

"Then where is the bill?" Jun-ho sighed, the fatigue apparent on his face. "And who took it, and for what reason? Look, all this time investigating, and this guy always seems to be one step ahead of us. Always. As if he knew what we were going to do, what we were going to investigate... and used that to cover his tracks." He leaned slightly forward, his gaze fixed on Hyun-ju. "Don't you agree that, having direct access to police information, that becomes very easy to do?"

Hyun-ju hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, I guess so..." She finally admitted, her tone calmer.

"You don't need to worry about the details. In-ho and I will take care of this part of the investigation." Jun-ho looked around the room, his authoritative tone back. "The rest of you can return to your posts and act normally, but keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior around here. Understood?"

The team members nodded slowly, although they still seemed shaken by the news. The discussion seemed to have come to an end, and everyone began to return to their own affairs and conversations.

But Gi-hun still had something on his mind that needed an answer.

"But now that he knows our plan, what will we do?"

It seemed obvious that The Taker wouldn't give up so easily. He needed at least a reaffirmation that his safety would be guaranteed, especially with the information that he could be someone from the police itself. He hadn't spent that money willingly, but yesterday's events could still result in serious consequences—not only because of the serial killer, but also because of the loan sharks who were still on his tail.

"The plan continues as stated, but we will intensify our surveillance." Jun-ho replied.

"So I should stay home waiting for death to knock on my door?" Gi-hun retorted, the irritation evident in his voice. He might have agreed to those terms before, but now everything had changed. "Couldn't you, for example, take me somewhere with 24-hour surveillance instead of just two officers?"

He hoped that No-eul and Hyun-ju weren't offended by the comment, but he would feel much safer if that were done.

"The only way that could happen is if you were arrested." In-ho spoke for the first time since the revelation. "Which, logically, is out of the question, since that would compromise everything an ambush would involve."

"But what is this ambush, after all?" Gi-hun insisted, his tone more irritated now. "So far it seems like we're waiting endlessly for something to happen instead of formulating a plan."

And that was true. In the past two weeks, he had no idea what the two detectives were doing, while he spent every night fearing the invisible threat that watched him.

Jun-ho took a deep breath. "Mr. Seong, I understand your impatience." His tone softened, sounding like his brother "But I must be the one to say that this type of situation is extremely delicate."

Gi-hun kept his hard gaze on him, waiting for more.

"We can't do anything until we're sure we can capture him." Jun-ho continued, his serious tone returning. "One false step and our last five years of work could turn into ten."

Like Hyun-ju, Gi-hun felt like he was running out of arguments to fight him. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to be alone. But he knew that's exactly what he should do.

"The loan sharks…" He took a deep breath. "They took the money the killer gave me… In that case, what happens now? Will he come to… collect the debt?"

Jun-ho seemed to think for a moment, his gaze distant, calculating the best answer.

"I can't say." He finally replied. "With the other victims, there were situations of money lending, yes. But we can't say if that's what determined their deaths." He tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyes carefully evaluating Gi-hun. "Besides, The Taker is only said to appear to collect the debt when his targets are at the best moment of their lives. Would you say this is the peak of your life, Mr. Seong?"

Gi-hun swallowed the "no" that threatened to escape, a bitter taste in his throat. If the killer was waiting for a peak, then it would be a long time until that moment arrived. He could hardly imagine a worse life than this. But he preferred to maintain his dignity and not comment on the fact.

"But if all the money is gone, what about the test he wants to do on me?"

"That…" Jun-ho crossed his arms, his face impassive. "Only time will tell."

Gi-hun opened his mouth to demand a clearer answer, but a hand on his shoulder made him freeze.

"Mr. Seong."

In-ho's voice pulled him out of his frustration, the large, firm hand on his shoulder causing an involuntary shiver.

"Don't worry so much about the details." In-ho's voice was calm, almost gentle. "I promise we will do everything we can to keep you safe. The previous night was a slip, but from now on I won't let that happen again. You have my word."

Any counter-argument that Gi-hun had ready to launch seemed to die in his throat with the older detective's words. The fact that he now thought that In-ho's concern could be tied to something more than just a sense of duty also didn't help—it only made him even more confused about how to behave in front of him.

"O-okay." He managed to say, before involuntarily shrugging his shoulders, causing In-ho to remove his hand. If Gi-hun felt how cold the area became after that, he didn't comment.

"If you still need to feel safe…" In-ho reached into his overcoat and pulled out the vibrant yellow taser he had promised him. It was much larger than the conventional ones. "Just aim at the target and fire using this button." He pointed to the button with his finger. "It only has one charge, so aim carefully. I really hope you don't have to use it, but it can be useful."

Gi-hun took the taser, feeling the weight and testing the grip. In the worst case, he would have to wait for the attacker to be very close before pulling the trigger. He was never the best at target shooting.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Dae-ho, who was already back to fiddling with some program on the computer, catching the end of the exchange between him and In-ho. To Gi-hun's dismay, Dae-ho turned with a mischievous smile on his face—and spoke before he could stop him.

"By the way, Captain…" Dae-ho began, his tone too cheerful. "Mr. Seong mentioned that he would like to have private self-defense lessons with you."

Gi-hun's eyes widened, his face burning in seconds.

"What—"

If the mortified look he gave Dae-ho served any purpose, it was only to increase the other's confidence. Dae-ho probably thought that Gi-hun was too shy to ask on his own and was just "giving a little help." And the worst part was... he wasn't wrong. Gi-hun really wanted to take self-defense classes—considering his current situation, it made sense.

But with In-ho?

After everything that had happened between the two of them?

The silence that followed was deafening. Jun-ho disguised a giggle as he sipped his coffee. Hyun-ju and Young-mi started whispering to each other, and Gi-hun was sure he knew exactly what the subject was. And, to complete the disaster, even No-eul raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, "Seriously?"

Gi-hun wished he could evaporate from there.

In-ho, however, remained impassive, as if nothing had happened. With the calm of someone who had faced much worse situations, he turned to Gi-hun, completely ignoring the commotion around them.

"Self-defense?" He asked, with a slight curiosity in his voice. "I don't promise to be the best teacher, but... I can try. If you want."

In-ho watches him for a verbal response, which Gi-hun finds immensely difficult to formulate, feeling the words jumble in his mind. His greatest desire now was to deny, but that would require an explanation—and he honestly doesn't have a good answer for that. So, he murmurs the best he can to get rid of this weight, at least for now.

"Y-yes, that would be great." The words sound weak, but audible enough for In-ho to nod. "When do we start?"

It would be good to have a prior idea of when they would meet for training; after all, Gi-hun would need to mentally prepare for that now. The detective raises his right wrist and pulls up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a watch as expensive as his house appeared to be.

"We can start right now, if you don't mind."

As he slowly nods in agreement, Gi-hun is sure that he is completely screwed.

The rational thought would be that this was nothing special.

It was just a sport—if it could be called that—that many people practiced. Something completely innocent and normal, nothing to worry about. Besides, it was a unique chance to learn something useful for life. There was no way he could miss this opportunity. Everything would be fine.

That is, until Gi-hun saw In-ho in tight black leggings and a tank top.

The training center was not part of the homicide department. Therefore, they had to drive to the recruit training station, where most of the equipment was clean and well maintained. The future policemen were having theoretical classes at that moment, which guaranteed them the necessary privacy for the class to take place without interruptions.

To be honest, Gi-hun was sure that the detective was kidding when he said they would start now. First because it was still very early—it was already afternoon when they arrived at the center, but still—and second because Gi-hun was not physically or mentally prepared for that. It hadn't even been 24 hours since they had kissed—not that he was counting—and slept at his house, so the thought of sharing even more intimate space with In-ho made his heart almost jump out of his chest.

However, Gi-hun also didn't want to be alone. Sleeping at the detective's house, despite everything, had brought him a feeling of tranquility that he hadn't felt in a long time. Something about the familiar and organized environment reminded him of how good life could be, if it weren't stuck in this constant whirlwind of chaos. So, agreeing to the unprecedented class was something that—even reluctantly—he couldn't avoid.

The gym was wide and high, with all the windows open, allowing natural light to illuminate the environment well. The floor was covered with blue mats that, when stepped on, didn't seem to be the softest thing in the world, but were still better than the hard floor. The gym also provided some extra gym clothes, which was good, since Gi-hun didn't have any. And, even though the idea of sharing clothes with other people was a bit disgusting, he couldn't complain.

Among the clothing options available, he opted for light green wide pants and a white blouse. The pants came with a jacket of the same color, which Gi-hun took just to keep the pieces together. He never understood why people made such a fuss about gym clothes; he certainly didn't feel any different from what he usually wore. However, as soon as he laid eyes on In-ho, he understood the appeal.

The sound of his footsteps on the rubber floor echoed through the empty gym. And, even with so many sensory stimuli—the light that blinded his eyes, the wind that came in through the windows—none of that mattered. Not when his attention was completely fixed on the way the tight fabric of In-ho's tank top molded his broad shoulders and on how the black leggings seemed like a direct affront to his sanity.

This was nothing special, he repeated to himself. It was just a workout, a self-defense class, something practical and objective. But his body seemed to violently disagree with that logic, because every movement of the detective captured his attention as if it were a damn slow-motion action scene.

They started with basic warm-ups, something to loosen up the muscles and clear the mind. It helped him for a while to almost forget the situation he was in. But without wasting any time, In-ho got straight to the point.

"Let's start slowly." In-ho's voice was calm, professional, but there was a shadow of amusement there—almost as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on Gi-hun. "First, posture."

Before Gi-hun could prepare himself, he felt In-ho's hands touch his shoulders. He tensed instantly, an unexpected wave of heat rising up his neck. The touch was not abrupt, nor even invasive, but the awareness that they were his hands—firm, warm, safe—made him hold his breath for a second longer than he should have.

"Relax." In-ho's fingers squeezed lightly, pushing his shoulders back until his posture was erect. "If you're tense, your movements are limited."

"I-I'm not tense," Gi-hun retorted too quickly, his voice a little louder than necessary.

The detective raised an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth curving into something dangerously close to a smug smile.

"Of course not."

Damn it.

Gi-hun looked away and forced his muscles to obey, trying not to concentrate on the persistent sensation of In-ho's touch. But then came the second instruction—and, with it, another contact.

"Now, feet shoulder-width apart," said In-ho, crouching slightly behind him. A firm hand landed on his waist, his thumb brushing against the side of his torso. "Distribute the weight equally between your legs. You need balance if you want to react quickly."

Gi-hun blinked, completely forgetting to breathe for a moment. He could feel the warmth of In-ho's body through the clothes, the way he moved naturally around him, adjusting his posture as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Maybe it was for him. For Gi-hun, it was a personal hell.

"Now, if someone grabs you from behind—"

The sentence had barely been said when In-ho pulled him in a sudden movement, wrapping an arm around his neck, his hand firm on his chest to control his movements.

The impact of the gesture made his skin tingle all over.

Gi-hun's heart beat so hard that he was sure In-ho could feel the vibration against his own body. The heat spread across his face, his neck, his lower stomach in a revolting way. He felt the detective's breath against his ear, hot and too close, each word reverberating directly on his skin.

"Breathe," In-ho murmured. "If your first instinct is to freeze, you've already lost."

Breathe. Great advice. Too bad he couldn't.

Gi-hun swallowed hard, forcing his brain to process something other than the fact that In-ho's entire body was pressed against his. He should be focused on learning. Not on the firmness of the arm around his collarbone, not on the way his voice sounded different at this proximity. Not on the clean, woody scent that seemed to envelop him, even without the presence of the trenchcoat.

"Now, pay attention." In-ho's voice dropped an octave, almost dragging. "You have three options in this case: try to pull the attacker's arm off, lower your center of gravity, or use your elbow to hit him where it hurts."

He demonstrated each of them slowly, releasing Gi-hun only to grab him again seconds later, guiding his hands to the right points, leading his movements as if he were choreographing a dance and Gi-hun was just letting him.

The fact that In-ho was a good teacher didn't surprise him. What bothered him was how much he couldn't focus on anything that was being taught—which, ironically, could one day save him from a tragedy. But each touch of In-ho was a new challenge for his already fragile self-control.

Gi-hun wanted to believe that this proximity was uncomfortable only because it was unexpected, and not because of the confused feelings he seemed to harbor for the detective. But he knew that wasn't it. The problem was the way his body responded, as if a part of him—a treacherous and insistent part—didn't want to escape this contact.

"Let's try again," In-ho announced, releasing him to stand in front of him.

Gi-hun nodded, determined to ignore anything that wasn't the technique being taught.

But then the detective smiled.

It was a small smile, almost imperceptible, but it was there. As if In-ho knew exactly what was going on inside Gi-hun's head. As if he were just waiting for the moment when he would finally admit to himself what he had been avoiding at all costs to acknowledge.

And that idea terrified him.

For a moment, he tried to convince himself that it was just his imagination. In-ho was a serious and professional man, but he also knew how to be playful when he wanted to. Maybe that's how he acted with everyone else.

But then, there was the kiss.

And the night at his house.

And the way In-ho always insisted on protecting him, even when Gi-hun already felt safe in his presence.

If all of this was just part of a detective's obligation to a witness... why did it seem like something more?

The memory of In-ho's response to his question echoed in his mind. The way he had said that... it made it obvious that Gi-hun was more than just a witness.

And if that were true... what would happen?

The logical answer was to deny. To refuse to consider any possibility beyond the one he had always taken for granted. In his 46 years, he had never imagined himself having a relationship with a man. Of course, there were moments of curiosity in his adolescence and when he was a young adult, but he never gave it importance. He always thought it was something fleeting, the kind of thought that some people have and simply move on.

But then why, after so long, was he still there, being tormented by this suffocating feeling? Why couldn't he just laugh it off and forget about it?

He wanted—needed—to believe that it was all just a side effect of the situation he was in. The constant danger, the forced proximity... it was natural for his mind to look for something to cling to in the midst of chaos. When all of this was over, when The Taker was captured and his life returned to normal, there would be nothing more uniting the two. Each would go their own way, and that was how it should be.

But if that was how it was... why did the idea that it would all end leave him so bitterly uneasy? He didn't want the answer. He couldn't want it.

Gi-hun was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he only realized what was happening when it was too late.

In one instant, he was still trying to convince himself that it was all just confusion. In the next, he was in the air, his vision spinning before his body hit the ground with a dry thud.

The impact made the air escape his lungs in a surprised gasp. Adrenaline shot through his blood, and he barely had time to react before a firm weight pinned him against the mat.

In-ho.

The detective had knocked him down.

In-ho's knee pressed against his waist, keeping him still, while one of his hands held his wrist against the floor. The other rested dangerously close to his neck, as if to remind him that there was no way out.

It was too fast. Too easy.

Gi-hun tried to react, twisting his body to break free, but that only made the pressure increase. The detective held him more firmly, the muscles in his arms tensing as he resisted the attempt to escape.

"You're distracted," In-ho's voice sounded low, deeper than normal. "If it were the killer, you would already be on the ground before you even realized the danger."

But Gi-hun had already realized the danger.

Not the danger of the fight. Not the threat of a real attack. But the danger of being under him.

The danger of the way In-ho's eyes were dark and intense, fixed on his. The way his breathing was rhythmic, but heavy.

Gi-hun felt every point of contact between their bodies. The weight on him, the way In-ho seemed to fit him perfectly against the mat. It wasn't just physical dominance. It was something more. Something that made his chest tighten, that made his whole body go on alert for reasons he didn't want to name.

He should say something. He should ask the detective to release him and continue the class. But he couldn't.

Because In-ho didn't seem willing to move. He pressed firmly, but not to the point of actually hurting him.

The seconds stretched out, dense, loaded with a tension that Gi-hun didn't want to recognize. In-ho's gaze ran over his face, the grip on his wrist becoming a little stronger, as if testing the limits of his own resistance. As if he were waiting for something.

He leaned in.

Almost imperceptible, but Gi-hun saw. He felt it.

God.

The air between the two became hot, heavy. The distance decreased, little by little, until Gi-hun could feel his breath against his mouth.

And he didn't move to avoid it.

He didn't move because part of him wanted to know what would happen if he didn't.

Reality distorted around them, as if time had slowed down, as if everything converged to that instant. As if that moment was inevitable.

Until a voice broke the spell.

"Detective Hwang!"

The sound echoed through the gym like a bang, making In-ho freeze in place. Gi-hun felt his muscles tense for an instant before, finally, releasing him and stepping away.

The air seemed to return to Gi-hun's lungs abruptly, as if he had been trapped underwater and finally emerged. He blinked, stunned, trying to understand what the hell had just happened.

The recruit who had entered the gym stopped when he noticed the position they were in, slightly frowning. But he soon recovered.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, looking directly at In-ho. "But there's something you need to see."

In-ho seemed equally stunned, but nodded. Regaining his composure, his expression returned to its usual neutrality. He got up without saying anything and extended his hand to Gi-hun.

For a second, Gi-hun stood still, unsure if he should accept. But his fingers were already moving before he could rationalize the decision.

The touch was brief. Warm.

But Gi-hun felt the firm pressure of In-ho's fingers around his. The way he pulled him up with ease, effortlessly.

And when he stood up, their eyes met once again.

In-ho's eyes slid over his, dark and intense as before. But now, there was something more. Something that both of them knew. But before anything could be said, In-ho was already walking away.

Gi-hun stood still, his heart still beating erratically, not knowing what made him more uneasy: the fact that they had been interrupted, or that, for a moment, he wished they hadn't been.

And now, knowing that, he would have to deal with the consequences on his own.

At first, Gi-hun didn't understand In-ho's insistence on accompanying him.

Currently, they were in the detective's car, heading to the "thing" he needed to see. The officer who was accompanying them with the patrol car didn't seem happy that Gi-hun was coming along, but didn't risk disobeying a superior.

The two policemen exchanged a few words before leaving the gym, and the training was rescheduled for two days later. Gi-hun wanted to ask what it was all about, but just looking at the frown In-ho maintained while gripping the steering wheel was enough to realize that it wasn't good.

They had both changed back into their normal clothes—finally—before setting off on the road.

The trip continued in silence. Whenever Gi-hun risked a glance to the side, he found In-ho tense, his eyes fixed on the road, his fingers clenched around the steering wheel as if he were ready to react to something. As the minutes passed, the houses and avenues became more and more familiar.

It didn't take long for Gi-hun to realize that they were heading towards his house.

Trying to hide his disappointment—because, deep down, he thought he would have the chance to accompany In-ho in his work—he put on the calmest voice he could muster.

"You really didn't need to take me home." In-ho continued looking ahead, without any reaction. "The appointment seems urgent. I could have taken a taxi."

Gi-hun watched the moment In-ho inhaled heavily, carefully maneuvering the car to park next to the curb.

The air seemed heavier suddenly. The tension in In-ho's expression made Gi-hun's stomach clench. But he said nothing. He waited, not wanting to interrupt him.

"I'm not taking you home."

Gi-hun blinked.

"What?"

In-ho turned his head to look at him deeply, as if he were choosing his words carefully, aware of the weight they carried.

"The urgent call came from your house."

Gi-hun's blood ran cold.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"I know how much you want to be aware of the investigation, since it's something that concerns you." In-ho's voice was firm, but there was a slight hesitation there. "But I must ask... are you sure about this?"

In-ho's eyes were intense, waiting for some kind of response—one that Gi-hun wasn't sure he could give yet.

If the call came from his house, then it could only be the work of The Taker.

And, from In-ho's tone and the other officer's expression, it was something serious.

He could hide behind the policemen. He could convince himself that he didn't need to face this directly. But the truth is that it became personal the moment that bastard decided to break into his house and leave 4 billion won in his room.

So no, he wouldn't rest until The Taker was behind bars. And he wouldn't settle for knowing half the story.

Gi-hun raised his chin. The fear was there—pulsing under his skin—but he wouldn't let it paralyze him.

"I’m sure. I want to see, I need to know."

In-ho seemed surprised by his outburst of courage. But, after a moment, he nodded.

Gi-hun took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for what was to come.

But then, a thought struck him like a shock.

"If even you weren't sure I should see... then why did you bring me?"

"I couldn't leave you alone." The detective replied, simple, direct. The phrase came out so naturally that Gi-hun didn't have time to wonder why his heart had skipped a beat. But it wasn't the time for that—there were much more urgent matters ahead. Without waiting for an answer, In-ho started the car and headed to their destination.

As Gi-hun had imagined, the blocks near his house were busy, but the scene was different from the last time. The number of policemen seemed to have doubled, and as the car cut through the crowd of curious neighbors, he noticed that most of them weren't even looking at the passing vehicle, so absorbed were they in trying to peek over the large yellow tape that surrounded the entire residence.

The car stopped, and an officer lifted the tape to allow them to approach. He didn't question Gi-hun's presence there. Next to the entrance, Hyun-ju looked at the wide open door with a distressed look. When she saw them, especially Gi-hun, her face closed even more, but, without saying a word, she made room for the two to enter and see what awaited them.

Gi-hun was behind In-ho. The first thing he noticed was the blood splatter on the door frame. But that was just the beginning of an even more horrible sight.

When he looked over In-ho's shoulder, his stomach churned. The living room was in a grotesque mess, as if chaos had been spread across every corner—overturned furniture, shards of glass scattered on the floor, and, in the center of it all, the bodies. Three of them.

Mr. Kim, was sitting in a chair, his neck twisted in a way that couldn't be normal, his eyes wide and fixed on the void. His expression was a frozen mask of terror. A large wound crossed his throat, staining his beige shirt a dark crimson. His hands were firmly on his knees, with something small and rectangular between his rigid fingers—a wad of bills, stacked impeccably, stained with blood.

A few steps away, the two henchmen were sprawled on the floor, like puppets whose strings had been brutally cut. The first had his chest open, his white shirt now soaked in a dark red. Precise and deep cuts marked his arms and face, as if the killer had taken pleasure in prolonging his suffering. The second was on his stomach, his face pressed against the carpet, a pool of blood around his head. Gi-hun noticed a disturbing detail: his hands were tied behind his back with a black ribbon, and next to his body there was a small folded note.

In-ho approached cautiously, crouching to pick up the paper. He opened it, and his eyes narrowed as he read the words scrawled with precision:

"Don't touch what belong to me."

Gi-hun swallowed hard, the bitter taste of panic spreading through his mouth. His gaze fell to the floor, where a trail of blood-stained bills traced a path to an open black bag. The stolen money was there, returned—a silent taunt.

In-ho rose slowly, the paper still between his fingers. He looked at Gi-hun, his face impassive, but his eyes revealing a dark understanding.

"Apparently..." the detective said, his voice low, cutting. Then, he turned completely to Gi-hun, his expression sharp as a blade. "It seems you have your answer."

Chapter Text

The unbearable smell of blood almost made him vomit.

Some people would say you get used to the smell of blood and death — many cops and doctors had to deal with it daily. But if you asked Gi-hun, that didn’t seem like something he could handle.

In-ho stayed inside to talk to the coroner while Gi-hun stepped outside to get some fresh air. Okay, he expected something bad, but not this bad. He knew The Taker was cruel, but it was almost as if he was mocking the death of those three men. Cold, impersonal deaths — like they were nothing more than a pebble in his shoe. And that’s not even counting the speed.

Not even a day had passed since the robbery, and yet they had been killed. That psychopath must have been watching very closely to pull that off in such a short time. Gi-hun didn’t know if it was luck that he had spent the whole day with the detective and the team or if The Taker simply didn’t want to kill him yet, but he would thank God for not having suffered the same fate.

If he had any hope of going back to that house and living a normal life, it had just been thrown out the window. He barely even registered the rest of the room, since his focus was entirely on the corpses that decorated the small living room. But he knew he would never be able to forget the splashes and stains of blood that covered the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling.

The thought that this could one day be his own fate was anything but comforting. Even if he could pretend for a few hours that this wasn’t his reality, it seemed like that psychopath was determined to reaffirm his presence in Gi-hun’s life. Honestly, it was getting exhausting. And the worst part was that he couldn’t see any solution to the problem. I mean, unless…

"Are you okay?"

In-ho’s voice pulled him back to the present. From a distance, he looked calm and composed as always, but knowing him as well as he now did, Gi-hun could see how tired he looked. His mouth had a slight downward tilt of discontent, his eyes were more closed than usual, and a subtle scowl marked his face — a detail Gi-hun could only notice because he had come close enough to see it before.

"I... I don’t know."

And it was true. Beyond the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing three familiar people meet such a horrible end, there was a sense of relief. Relief that it hadn’t been him. Knowing the serial killer, he probably had the means to kill him that very same day — and yet he didn’t. Maybe even killers have a moral compass... even if the extreme end of it means death.

"Remember what I told you about staying with friends or family?" In-ho said slowly, respecting Gi-hun’s state of shock so he could absorb the words.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Maybe now’s a good time to do that."

With most of his relatives out of the picture, the first person who came to mind was Jung-bae. He really didn’t want to drag him into this, especially since things between them had been a bit tense lately.

"Or, if you prefer, you can stay at my place."

He’s going to call Jung-bae now.

"N-no need, I have someone to call!"

Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he dialed Jung-bae’s number from memory — a result of their years of friendship. But as soon as the phone started ringing, he had no idea what to say.

"Gi-hun, is that you?"

Inhale. Exhale.

"Hey, Jung-bae, it’s me..."

"Incredible. You ignore me for days and now call me in the middle of the night? What a great friend you are."

Classic Jung-bae.

"I know, I know, I’m sorry."

"Jesus, you sound terrible. Are you okay?"

"I think... listen, can I stay at your place for a few days?"

"Hmm, I need to ask my wife, but I think that’s fine. What happened this time? More loan sharks after you?"

If only. Turns out a serial killer has marked me as a target and just murdered three men in my house, hahaha. Nothing much.

"I’ll explain everything when I get there."

"Alright. Are you coming now?"

"If possible, yeah."

"Sure, I’ll set up the couch for you."

Gi-hun let out a relieved sigh and thanked his friend before hanging up. His friendship with Jung-bae was one of the few things keeping him grounded when things were at their worst. Jung-bae always pushed him to go out more and enjoy life. Sometimes he made terrible decisions, but that was part of his charm.

Turning around, Gi-hun came face-to-face with the detective, who had stayed there throughout the entire conversation.

"You should go now. We’ll finish investigating the crime scene and then send the bodies for autopsy." Just from In-ho’s tone, it was clear this was going to be a long night for the team. "We’ll clean the house as best we can, but it’ll have to stay closed for a few days. So it’s best to grab what you need before we seal it off."

"Urgh, why did it have to be here?" — he thought aloud.

"He probably wanted to make a point… and return the money."

The money. Gi-hun had been doing a good job of forgetting about those stacks, but in the end, everything always came back to that.

"Anyway, go rest. I’ll let the team know where you’ll be staying for the next few days so we can keep watch." In-ho said, taking his phone from his pocket and sending a message to a contact that seemed to be Dae-ho. "I’ll be in touch as soon as we have more information."

"I-is this going to take long?" He didn’t mean to sound anxious, but that’s exactly how it came out.

"A few days, maybe. But don’t worry." In-ho said, as if reading his mind. "We still have our training the day after tomorrow."

Gi-hun wouldn’t admit how happy he was that In-ho hadn’t canceled on him despite the new developments.

"Be quick in there. Just take what you need." In-ho informed him, walking back toward the entrance with Gi-hun following closely behind.

"Are you sure I can do that?"

"Of course, just don’t touch anything that could be considered evidence."

Gi-hun nodded and took a deep breath before stepping into the stuffy house. He had to make an extra effort to avoid not only the bodies but also the police officers and specialists who were crowding the small space.

When he reached his room, the first thing he noticed was how empty it felt without all that money. There were still a few stacks here and there, but most of it was now concentrated in the living room, leaving a big empty spot in the center of the room where his mattress used to be. The place was also pretty messy, but at least it was free of bloodstains.

The only thing out of place seemed to be the stuffed bear with the hidden camera, tossed on the floor, broken. Whoever broke in clearly didn’t forgive Gi-hun’s poor choice of hiding place.

Going straight to the closet, Gi-hun began pulling out a few essential shirts and pants—just enough to last for a week at most. He turned to the drawer of underwear and grabbed some pairs. He also picked up two pairs of socks and decided that the sneakers on his feet would have to be enough. He had no idea how long he’d be staying at Jung-bae’s house, but it was better to be prepared.

Going to the bathroom—and trying his best to ignore the stench of decay coming from the bodies—Gi-hun grabbed a few basic hygiene products. He could probably borrow some from Jung-bae without any problem, but there were limits even they didn’t cross.

Gathering everything in an old travel bag, he was about to leave the house when he remembered.

The belt.

Shit, the belt.

He had left it on top of the toilet the night before and had completely forgotten about it during his last visit. He turned to go back to the bathroom so quickly that he almost ran into a coroner, who gave him a very irritated look, by the way. Apologizing, Gi-hun hurried back, and, as expected, the belt was in the same spot where he had left it, patiently waiting for its owner to return.

Sighing in relief, Gi-hun leaned down to grab it—it was always good to have an extra layer of protection. However, just as he was about to take it, his gaze locked onto something right beside the belt. On the white lid of the toilet, it was impossible to miss the single black hair resting there.

Holding it between his fingers, he quickly ruled out the possibility that it was his—it was much shorter and more well-groomed than his own hair. It could have belonged to one of the officers coming and going through the front door, or even one of the three loan sharks. But it didn’t seem like anyone had entered the bathroom, and all the officers were wearing masks and hair coverings.

It could have been nothing, but it was strange—definitely out of place. And Gi-hun’s instincts were telling him not to ignore it.

Conflicted, he chose to leave the suspicious hair in the house but hid it inside the cup where he kept his toothbrush. Just in case it turned out to be important. If the police found it, there was a good chance they’d dismiss it as evidence. And even though he trusted In-ho and the other detectives’ work, he had a gut feeling that he should keep this information to himself.

Gi-hun quickly left the house after that. He scanned the front yard but saw no sign of In-ho or any familiar officer. Taking that as his cue, he walked to his car and drove toward Jung-bae’s house.

Driving away from the bodies and the blood in his house, he couldn’t help but think that the first thing he was going to do when this was all over was move out.

Life at the Park household was normal.

In the morning, Jung-bae’s wife would wake up and take their daughter to school, where she also worked as a teacher. Ever since he was laid off, his friend had been doing odd jobs as a contractor here and there, mostly in the neighborhood, so there weren’t many days when he had to wake up early. But even so, he’d spend most of the day out until nightfall, when his wife and daughter would return home in the late afternoon. When Jung-bae wasn’t out drinking with friends, he would help his wife prepare dinner, and the three of them would eat together at the table.

That kind of domestic routine was one of the things Gi-hun missed most from his married years. No matter how late he got home, there was always a plate of food waiting for him. There was always someone there to greet him. There was always something waiting for him at the end of the day. Something he no longer had.

On the first night he spent there, he felt like he was invading the family’s personal space—and he kind of was. But they welcomed him without many questions, and the couch in their living room was comfortable enough. On the first day, he quickly realized that he’d have the house to himself. With his friend’s wife and daughter gone, Jung-bae also had some kind of job that would take up his entire day.

Not wanting to be a burden, Gi-hun threw himself into work.

His car would have to stay parked on the street for now, thanks to the lack of space in Jung-bae’s garage, but that was more than he could ask for. He worked as late as he could, hoping to come back at a time when everyone would already be asleep. He wasn’t ready to talk about the unfortunate incident that had brought him there—or about all the other things that haunted him. Not yet.

During the day, he waited for In-ho or someone from the team to reach out with updates on the case. But aside from Young-mi asking about the daily report and informing him that they’d have to replace the security cameras at the house—apparently, the intruder had broken most of them—only Jung-bae texted him, asking when he planned to return.

Of course, the delay was understandable, but Gi-hun couldn’t wait to vacate that couch and go back to the mediocrity of his house—that is, if he could still call it his.

When he arrived, all the lights were off. And even when Jung-bae opened the door for him, he looked too tired to talk, letting Gi-hun off the hook once again.

The next day, however, he wasn’t so lucky.

As soon as his friend’s wife and daughter left the house, Jung-bae cornered him in the hallway near the bathroom before he could sneak out through the door.

“You sly dog, you’re not getting away so easily today,” he said, crossing his arms as Gi-hun swallowed hard. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on right now.”

Without even finding the strength to protest, Gi-hun let out a defeated sigh, resigning himself to pointing toward the living room.

“You’d better sit down because it’s going to be a long story.”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” said Jung-bae, taking a sip of his beer.

As soon as Gi-hun started recounting the facts and mentioned that they involved murders and killers, Jung-bae had quickly brought over two ice-cold drinks to make it easier to process the information. By the end, his best friend looked more bewildered than anything.

“That guy, The Taker, gave you 4 billion won to spend however you want? Just like that?”

Gi-hun reluctantly nodded since ‘just like that’ wasn’t exactly the right way to describe it.

“Then what the hell are you doing sleeping on my couch?”

Instinctively, Gi-hun punched his friend’s arm.

“Did you not hear a single thing I said!? If I spend the money, he’ll kill me—got it? I die!”

“You’d die with 4 billion in your bank account—how bad is that?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Gi-hun gave up on arguing with his friend. Of course, it was easy to focus on the benefits of the money when you hadn’t witnessed someone being murdered in front of you like he had. The image was already burned into his mind, and now, adding the triple homicide in his house to that was more than enough to convince Gi-hun that he’d have to be crazy to even consider spending the money.

His biggest fear about telling Jung-bae the truth was how it might affect him somehow—and since The Taker’s threats didn’t seem to be limited to Gi-hun alone, it added an extra layer of fear to the situation. But contrary to what he expected, Jung-bae seemed calm about it—probably because he still didn’t understand the full gravity of the situation.

“But seriously now,” Jung-bae called for his attention, his tone growing more serious. “Are you sure about this ambush thing?”

Gi-hun stared at his friend, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how the police aren’t exactly reliable, and you could get seriously hurt,” he replied, putting emphasis on “seriously” as if it meant the word dead.

Gi-hun opened his mouth, ready to defend In-ho’s squad—but the truth was that he also had his doubts. He had already come close to dying, thanks to a series of unlucky events, and since the incident, he hadn’t used the tracker belt. Besides, he had hesitated to reveal the strand of hair in the bathroom. He was trusting them with his life—but that didn’t mean he should just sit back and wait.

Sensing his doubt, Jung-bae gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“I know, this situation is a mess—exactly the kind of thing that would happen to you.” Gi-hun let out a light laugh, even though the remark wasn’t particularly funny. “But if you need anything, you know I’m here.”

Even though there wasn’t much Jung-bae could do, Gi-hun still appreciated the sentiment—grateful to know that, even with a serial killer on his trail, he still had a friend he could count on. He must have misjudged him if he had ever thought that Jung-bae would stop talking to him after learning what was really happening.

A vibration from his phone pulled him away from the moment they were sharing.

Looking at the notification on the screen, the name ‘Young-il’ appeared at the top.

“Meet me in half an hour, same place as before.”

After that, there was an address—most likely for the gym where they had trained last time. The fact that In-ho was probably swamped with the case but still making time to train him made Gi-hun’s chest warm.

Without realizing it, he must have been smiling at his phone, because the first thing he saw when he looked back at Jung-bae was a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Who was it?”

Gi-hun turned off the phone screen and slipped it into his pocket in one swift motion.

“No one… why?”

“I don’t know.” Jung-bae put his hand on his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe because you’ve been checking your phone every few minutes during our conversation, and now you’ve got that goofy look on your face when you get a message? Suspicious.”

Gi-hun’s face instantly dropped at his friend’s words, as if that would somehow change the situation.

“It’s nothing, it was just—”

“Don’t give me that ‘nothing’ nonsense,” Jung-bae interrupted, clearly amused. “In my experience, that look can only mean two things: one, you got a raise at work and just found out—which I’m guessing isn’t the case—or two, you’re seeing someone.”

And that was the most absurd conclusion Jung-bae could have possibly drawn. Even though it wasn’t true, the surprise mixed with embarrassment was enough to make Gi-hun sink deeper into it.

“S-seeing someone? Pfft, you’ve gotta be kidding me. N-no way I’m seeing someone, how could you even think that, haha…”

But the smile on Jung-bae’s face only seemed to widen. Was it just him, or had everyone around him lately assumed there was something going on between him and In-ho? First Jun-ho, then Dae-ho, and now Jung-bae—who didn’t even know the detective personally.

“Come on, I know you. You acted exactly like this when you first started seeing Eun-ji.”

Gi-hun felt a loud ‘no’ threatening to escape from his throat—but thankfully, he managed to hold it back before he made things worse.

“Now, go ahead—tell me her name.”

“L-listen here, nothing’s going on, okay? And I have an urgent appointment now, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“‘Appointment,’ huh? With her, I assume. All right, I’ll be here when you want to talk about it. Now go get her, big guy.”

Jung-bae must have thought he was hilarious, judging by the way he was laughing. Gi-hun, on the other hand, didn’t find any of it funny. If he was already confused about his feelings toward the detective, this definitely wasn’t helping. Instead of trying to justify himself, he opted to grab his jacket and get out of there.

While he was gathering his things, he could still hear his friend laughing, the sound gradually fading. Just as he was putting his hand on the door handle, Jung-bae called his attention one last time before saying goodbye.

“You know, it’s pretty sad what happened to those loan sharks—but at least you don’t have to worry about those debts anymore.”

Gi-hun turned around, ready to tell him that was an insensitive thing to say. Sure, their deaths had benefited him in some way—but that didn’t justify the way they had been taken out. Still, it was something he couldn’t stop thinking about, even as he drove toward the gym.

They had received that "punishment" for stealing money that wasn’t theirs—but it was hard to ignore the possibility that maybe—just maybe—the killer had murdered them to help Gi-hun.

That thought was dangerous. Even more dangerous was the fact that it didn’t scare him as much as he thought it would. On the contrary—in a twisted way, he kind of liked it.

And that was something truly insensitive to admit.

“You’re supposed to try and throw me over your shoulder, not just pull.”

During their second practical lesson, In-ho was demonstrating techniques to immobilize someone. They were locked in a strange, tight embrace, with Gi-hun gripping the detective’s arm while he insisted that Gi-hun try to bring him down.

When he first started all this, he knew it would require a fair amount of physical contact—but if the first lesson had been uncomfortable enough with In-ho’s hands correcting his posture, now it was even worse. His mind was full of Jung-bae’s insinuations, and he could barely concentrate on anything except how In-ho’s pelvis seemed to be pressed against his backside.

“I already told you—it’s not about strength, it’s about technique,” the detective said, directly into Gi-hun’s ear. “Even against someone taller or stronger than you, if you catch them off guard, you’ll have a good chance of gaining the advantage.”

It all sounded simple in theory—but the actual practice was another story. Even though Gi-hun was still learning, In-ho wasn’t making it easy for him, deliberately grounding his weight to make it harder.

“In a real fight, this is the kind of situation you’ll need to know how to handle. If you can’t do it here, how are you going to manage against someone like The Taker?”

The mention of that cursed name—that faceless figure who had been relentlessly hunting him—almost gave Gi-hun the motivation he needed to pull off the move. For a few seconds, he even felt like he had lifted In-ho off the ground. But the moment passed as soon as the earlier thought hit him again—how he hadn’t been that disturbed by the loan sharks’ deaths. It struck him like a bolt of lightning, throwing off his balance and making him fall backward.

Expecting to hit the ground, Gi-hun closed his eyes—but the impact never came. When he opened them slightly, he saw In-ho holding him by the shoulders, looking directly into his eyes with an unreadable expression.

“You’re getting distracted. Let’s take a short break and pick this up again later.”

Gi-hun nodded, and In-ho helped him back to his feet with ease. Even though Gi-hun had the advantage in height, the strength and confidence In-ho exuded put him on a level Gi-hun could only dream of reaching. From an outsider’s perspective, the detective seemed like a perfect, untouchable type of person—the kind who wouldn’t normally give someone like Gi-hun a second glance.

And yet, here he is, teaching me everything he knows, he thought. His fingers squeezed the water bottle in his hand, and he loosened his grip before he could crush it.

Looking for a distraction, he began scrolling through his recent messages. There was one from the bank, reminding him that his debt payment was overdue for yet another month—and would probably stay that way for a while—along with a flood of spam emails about unbeatable offers and next-purchase discounts.

He had taken advantage of his time at the Park residence to text his daughter, asking how life was treating her and what she’d been up to. But, as expected, he still hadn’t received a concrete response. It left him staring at the screen, silently hoping for a new message to appear.

Before he could give up and start figuring out how to pull off that complicated throw, a new message actually popped up.

But it wasn’t from his daughter—it was from Ali.

Weird. Ali usually only sent him good morning texts or short messages asking how his day was going. Gi-hun always felt guilty about lying to his foreign friend, but he couldn’t exactly tell him he was staying at someone else’s house because of a triple homicide at his own. So, he twisted the truth a little.

Gi-hun, are you busy?

He stared at the message for a moment. Well, technically, he was busy—but he was also curious about why Ali was reaching out now. So, he replied.

More or less

Why?

Ali seemed to take a long time to respond, the three dots disappearing and reappearing multiple times. It could just be Ali thinking about how to write the words, since the Korean dialect was quite complicated, but something in his instinct told him it could be something much more serious.

It's Mr. Sangwoo.

Gi-hun blinked. Sangwoo?

What about him?

He stared at his cell phone with a newfound apprehension, his heart racing, pounding hard against his chest.

I'm not sure, but some police officers came to the workshop asking about his whereabouts.

Holy shit. The police? After Sangwoo?

Did they say why?

Ali took a few more seconds to type, and this time Gi-hun feared the answer, tapping his foot on the floor repeatedly in an anxious cycle.

They said something about debts. And something about taxes.

Cho Sangwoo was in debt? It seemed hard to believe, but there was no reason for Ali to lie. Sangwoo had always been Ssangmun's hope, the golden boy, whose future held only money and success. When did everything go wrong?

I warned you because you said you were friends, and he probably needs help now.

Gi-hun smiled at the phone, but his chest was still tight. Ali was truly a very nice person, helping someone he barely knew like that. Even if it didn't concern him, he felt he should meet with Sangwoo. He wanted to know what happened, his story, and offer some kind of support. They weren't as close as they used to be, but they're friends, that should count for something, right?

In-ho returned to the gym, wiping the sweat with a white towel before offering a new one to Gi-hun. Apprehensive, he accepted, trying to think of a plausible justification to cut their training short.

He really didn't want to stop the class, not after In-ho had insisted so much on teaching him. However, if Sangwoo was really being chased by the police, he needed to find him—and fast. The detective continued to look at him in silence, probably understanding that something was out of place.

"Did something happen?" He asked, sparing Gi-hun from having to start.

"A-ah, it's nothing much. I just need to, um... meet a friend." In-ho raised an eyebrow, and Gi-hun pursed his lips.

It wasn't like he could lie to the detective. One thing he had learned was that nothing escaped his attentive gaze. However, if he could omit the fact that the 'friend' in question was a police fugitive, he would.

"Do you want to end the workout early?" In-ho remained suspicious, but Gi-hun didn't miss the slight hurt his tone carried, actively making his heart clench.

"I really didn't want to, but it's pretty urgent, so..."

Their eyes met, making the words die in his throat. The detective probably knew he was lying, but Gi-hun knew the other wouldn't stop him from leaving through that door.

"Let's reschedule then. In two days?" He said, still looking down at Gi-hun. He had become so used to being the one to look down when talking to the detective that he never realized how the opposite could feel incredibly warm. No, he wasn't going to think that.

"Yes, that works." He replied quickly, swallowing hard at the thought that crossed his mind, forcing him to look away.

"And, if possible, it would be good if you cleared your schedule for the evening." He informed him, starting to gather the equipment they had left scattered around.

"Why?" He asked, joining the detective and picking up his own belongings.

"I thought we could go out for dinner after this."

"W-what?" Gi-hun asked, caught off guard. "Just the two of us?"

"Yes." In-ho replied, without missing a beat.

That wasn't a date — that was the first thing that crossed his mind. Gi-hun went out drinking with Jung-bae all the time, and it was never like this. There was no way the detective was implying that, right? But then again, there was a big difference between going out for drinks and going out for dinner.

...

He honestly didn’t know, and he was too afraid to ask. But he couldn’t find a good excuse to say no — not that he wanted to refuse, but, you know.

"I guess we can, yeah." He said, trying to mask the nervousness as he finished pulling his clothes from the locker to change.

Another thing he noticed was that both he and In-ho were wearing the same training clothes today — Gi-hun had gone with the mint green jacket this time, unlike the detective. Which, honestly, was way better than dealing with those tight black training clothes from last time. He just hoped that next time it would stay that way — you know, to help him focus better.

As he was about to leave the gym, he turned back to say goodbye to the detective.

"I'll see you soon, In-ho." He called out, loud enough for the detective to hear from across the gym.

"See you later. Stay safe."

Gi-hun held back a sigh. Those words shouldn't mess with him so much — but they did.

"I will, I promise." He replied with a shy smile, hoping the detective hadn’t seen it.

Little did he know that was a lie.

Finding Sangwoo wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

Logically, being a fugitive from the police, he wouldn’t hide in an obvious place — but that didn’t stop Gi-hun from visiting every spot where he was sure Sangwoo could be.

He started at his mother’s house. It was obvious he wouldn’t be there, but that didn’t stop him from knocking on the door and being greeted by Mrs. Cho’s tearful face.

“Oh, Gi-hun dear, it’s been so long,” she exclaimed, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. “Can I help you with something?”

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Cho. Actually, I’m looking for Sangwoo. Do you know where he is?”

He barely finished the question before the poor woman broke down in tears again, streams running down her face. Gi-hun’s expression softened with compassion, staying silent until she could collect herself.

“S-some men in uniform came here asking me the same question,” she finally said. “They said my Sangwoo was being charged with tax evasion, a-and that he had a lot of debts with the bank. I don’t understand — he told me he was in the United States, living well, working… How could this have happened?”

Putting that together with the little he knew about Sangwoo recently, it wasn’t hard to see that he had lied. Lied to his friends and to his own mother. Gi-hun didn’t understand it either. How could someone as brilliant and clever as him have fallen into such a deep hole — just like Gi-hun?

Gi-hun placed his hands on her shoulders, whispering words of comfort and assuring her that it would be okay. He felt bad for lying to her too; he was almost certain it wouldn’t end well. But she didn’t deserve to suffer like this — it was the least he could do.

“P-please, Gi-hun...” she said, clutching his arms like her life depended on it. “Save my son. Save my Sangwoo.”

Gi-hun hesitated for a moment, opening and closing his mouth while thinking of what to say.

“I’ll try.”

He searched everywhere he could remember Sangwoo liked. Of course, that was when they were younger, but it was the best he had. Knowing that kind of situation, the most likely place would be a bar, where he could drink to oblivion and drown his sorrows. However, he didn't know the current Sangwoo, so he had no idea which bar he might be in.

He scoured Ssangmun from top to bottom. He asked neighbors and pedestrians, but no one saw anything. It was already getting dark when he passed the door of an old ramen shop, they used to visit every Friday after club activities. Appealing to nostalgia seemed like his last card, but the shop owner hadn't seen anything either.

"You two boys have grown so much. Come visit me if you have time, I'll prepare my special recipe just for you," she said, before Gi-hun left.

He was back to square one and desperately wanted Sangwoo to come out of wherever he was hiding, so they could talk face to face while eating a plate of noodles.

Looking at his watch, he knew he shouldn't push his luck and stay out so late. He even thought about asking his task force friends for help. Dae-ho would probably help without making a fuss, but with that loose mouth of his, the information might reach someone it shouldn't, so Gi-hun refrained.

Still, he didn't want to give up now. Sangwoo must still be in the city, but tomorrow he'd probably be long gone — and that would mean all his efforts had been in vain. Promising himself he'd visit just one more place that night, Gi-hun headed to where the police would never think to look, but where he believed his old friend might be.

It was a shot in the dark, but he drove towards the old school they used to attend.

The building had been abandoned for years and was located on a deserted little street. After they moved to high school, the school had a scandal involving embezzlement, mismanagement, and unpaid salaries. With the bad reputation, it wasn't possible to sustain the institution, and the building had remained abandoned ever since.

It had been 30 years — or maybe even more —, but looking back, it was the time he was happiest. When his biggest worry was whether his hide-and-seek hiding spot was good or not.

As soon as he arrived, he parked in front of the rusty, half-open iron gate. As he entered, he realized how dilapidated the place looked. Everything still looked the way he remembered it: the swings next to the sandbox, the rocking horses that creaked whenever a child sat on them, a poorly drawn hopscotch on the ground. Everything looked the same — just older and more run-down. Moreover, in the center of the playground, was the main highlight: the huge area where they played the squid game.

Since there was no fixed marking, they always had to draw the game’s arena using pieces of twigs. Now, with no one left to do that, it was just an empty field — yet full of memories.

The building itself wasn’t in the best condition either, but it was still standing, at least. Just a few holes here and there, paint peeling off the walls. Despite all the good memories tied to that place, Gi-hun knew it wasn’t advisable to stay there for too long, so he started scanning the area quickly.

He tested the entrance doors — all tightly locked, no sign of forced entry. The same could be said for the windows, which were strangely covered by black cloths on the inside. That was surprising, considering the place seemed perfect for homeless people to use as a temporary shelter. He took another look around, checking through the cracks and gaps in the building. Nothing. No one was there.

Sighing in defeat, Gi-hun gave up. It wasn’t his brightest idea, but he genuinely thought he could find him. He knew it would be difficult and planned to try again tomorrow, but for now, it would be best to return to the Parks’ house and get a good night’s sleep.

But just before he could leave, something shiny caught his attention. Unable to see clearly, he used his phone’s flashlight to identify the object. It was an empty beer bottle with a bloody stain, left right by the side of the stairs leading to the entrance. That wasn’t unusual for an abandoned place — people probably came there to drink in peace. But something felt off. It looked like it had been left there recently. As if someone had just finished drinking and left it behind. And that stain was indeed alarming.

While he was questioning the bottle’s presence, his phone vibrated in his hand. Gi-hun glanced at the screen — a call from an unknown number. Getting a call from an unknown number in an abandoned place couldn’t possibly mean anything good, but burying the bad feeling that passed through his body, he answered.

“Hello?” He asked, trying to pick up any background noise from the other side of the line. But all he heard was breathing.

“Gi-hun, hi.” The voice said.

“S-Sangwoo? Is that really you?” he asked, incredulous.

His first instinct when he started looking for him was to try calling, but he had no idea what his number was — and in the rush, he had forgotten to ask Mrs. Cho. Honestly, he hadn’t expected Sangwoo to call him back, so it was a huge surprise that he had taken the initiative.

“Listen, I’m near your house now. Would it be a problem if I stayed there tonight?”  His voice sounded tired and sluggish, like he had been drinking but was starting to sober up. “Just for one night. I had an issue with my hotel reservation, and my company didn’t provide extra funds. I didn’t want to use my own money, you know?”

Wow. The ease with which Sangwoo lied was genuinely impressive.

If he didn't know better, he was sure his past self would have believed it blindly, without even questioning it. The relief of finally locating Sangwoo was great. Now he could finally find out what was going on. But… what did he say again? He was going to Gi-hun's house? Oh, crap.

"W-wait a minute, Sangwoo. My house? You're coming there now?"

"Yes. I think I'm a few blocks away. Why?"

"A-ahh… it's just that I'm not home right now..."

"That's okay, I'll wait."

Gi-hun internally screamed, trying to think of any excuse to stop Sangwoo from going to his house. If he himself couldn't sleep there, let alone his childhood friend — currently being chased by the police. He didn't want to be rude to Sangwoo, or he wouldn't have a chance to talk to him later. But he also didn't want to have to talk about his… situation.

He knew the tapes surrounding the house had already been removed, as had the bodies, but the house was still a complete mess. He couldn't really offer Sangwoo shelter, but by the time he got there, he'd be able to think of a better excuse than now.

"You can wait near the garage. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

"Okay, sounds good."

If Sangwoo noticed the nervousness in Gi-hun's voice, he didn't question it.

Now that everything was settled, he just needed to organize the order of the topics he would talk about with him in his mind — while trying to think of a plausible excuse for him not to enter his house.

Just great.

What was supposed to be a 20-minute trip ended up being 10.

Even sticking to the speed limit, he did everything possible to cut down the time. Flashes of possible scenarios — Sangwoo noticing the bloodstain on the doorframe, looking through the window and seeing the bloody mess that his house had become — kept flashing through his mind.

So much so that, when he arrived and found the entrance empty, Gi-hun was sure his uninvited guest had already left. However, it didn’t take long to spot him standing in the space where Gi-hun’s car used to be.

Leaving his car on the street, he convinced himself it wouldn’t take long. But the moment he saw Sangwoo’s disheveled and exhausted appearance, he knew right away they were in for a long conversation.

“Hey, Sangwoo.” He called out, catching the other’s attention as he seemed focused on something on his phone. Sangwoo adjusted his glasses with a nervous motion before walking toward Gi-hun.

“Hi, Gi-hun. Can we talk inside?” He greeted dryly. His steps seemed a little unsteady, as if he had been drinking, as he is step dangerously close to the door.

Hurrying, Gi-hun positioned himself between him and the doorknob — which he wasn’t even sure worked properly after the break-in.

“I was thinking maybe we could talk out here. The house is a mess and… the night breeze is pretty nice.” — he said, throwing out whatever nonsense came to mind.

Sangwoo didn’t seem convinced. His expression clearly showed he didn’t want to stay outside.

“Gi-hun, I really need to get inside. I have some important things to take care of.”

His response was vague and distant, but Gi-hun knew his fear was about being seen by the police. Still, he couldn’t let him inside. Knowing that, he figured this was the best time to press him.

“Oh yeah? What important things?”

“I need to send an urgent report, and I don’t have internet.”

The answer came too quickly. God knows how well Sangwoo could lie with a straight face.

“I can give you the Wi-Fi password now. It works from the porch.”

“It has to be on my laptop.”

“And where’s your laptop?” Gotcha.

“I left it in your garage. Let’s just go inside, and then I’ll—”

“You can go get it. I’ll wait here.”

Gi-hun noticed the slight furrowing of Sangwoo’s brow, signaling discomfort.

“It’s fine. I’ll grab it later.”

“But wasn’t it urgent?”

“It is. Just not right now.”

“Even so, you shouldn’t leave your stuff out here.”

“Goddamn it, Gi-hun! Why won’t you let me in?!”

“Why you’re being chased by the police?”

Sangwoo stared at him as if he had seen a ghost. His expression clearly said "How do you know?" — and Gi-hun rushed to answer before he could overthink it.

“Don’t ask how I know. And before you assume anything — no, I didn’t call the police.”

Looking less nervous but still tense, Sangwoo took a step back. Realizing his lies wouldn’t work, his next defense mechanism would be running away without an explanation.

Gi-hun moved fast, grabbing his arm.

“You asked for my help. You owe me this.”

But his words only seemed to piss him off more.

“Sangwoo, please. I just want to help you.”

With a sudden jerk, Sangwoo pulled his arm away so hard that Gi-hun nearly lost his balance.

“Help me? You?” Sangwoo scoffed, eyes gleaming with something between madness and disdain. “Wow… this is a whole new level of pathetic.”

Even though he was surprised by the sudden outburst, Gi-hun was even more stunned by the unwarranted insult, looking at Sangwoo as if he had just grown a second head.

“Yes, I’m being chased.” Sangwoo confessed, his tone dripping with cynicism. “I’m being sued by angry clients who lost money because of me, and now they want it back. On top of that, I have months of unpaid taxes. But you know what? I don’t have that money. I can’t go against those people or the government. Either way… I’m going to end up dead.”

He paused, taking a deep breath to regain control before continuing:

“I owe six billion won, Gi-hun. Six billion. Have you ever seen that much money?”

Holy shit.

That was even more than the ‘prize’ Gi-hun had won. He knew Sangwoo’s situation was bad, but not this bad. And before he could open his mouth to say anything, Sangwoo kept going with his insane rambling.

“And now you’re saying you want to help me?! You? The guy who’s been in the red his whole life, living day-to-day with barely anything in his pocket and drowning in debt? I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you can’t help me.”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened at those words. He understood that Sangwoo was going through a stressful and difficult time, but that still didn’t justify the personal attacks he was throwing at him.

“Shut up.” Gi-hun whispered, barely audible.

“Hm? What did you just say?”

“I said shut up!” He nearly shouted, unable to control his own tone. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand. You don’t know anything about my life, so you have no right to judge me.”

“Judge you?” Sangwoo sneered, the mocking tone leaving his voice, replaced by something colder: anger. “And who said I’m judging you?”

He took a step closer, his eyes narrow and piercing.

“But I know enough to say that you’ve been screwed your whole life.” His tone was cold and calculated. “If you don’t have money, you have nothing.”

“How can you say something like that?” Gi-hun said, outraged. He barely recognized the man standing in front of him. Sangwoo seemed more like a shadow of himself than the person Gi-hun once knew. “Is money really that important?”

“Of course, it is.” Sangwoo said, his tone smug, as if his understanding of the world made him superior. “Everything in life requires money. And it goes way beyond material things.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with venomous satisfaction.

“After all… why do you think your wife left you?”

That made Gi-hun freeze on the spot.

“I heard all about it from some old school friends.” Sangwoo continued, his tone sharp as a knife. “Your wife left you, married a rich guy, and moved overseas. And can you blame her? No one in their right mind would want to stay with a broke loser. So, what makes you think you’re so special that you could solve my problems?”

As he listened to that hateful speech, Gi-hun understood something. Something really important.

Sangwoo would be the perfect victim for The Taker.

He wouldn’t just spend the money knowing the consequences — he would believe he was entitled to it. Because, in his mind, people like him were born to have money and any problem was just a temporary setback.

If The Taker offered all that money to Sangwoo, the truth was that there would never be a right moment to kill him. Because he would never be satisfied.

Cho Sangwoo was the living proof of everything The Taker believed in.

The child Gi-hun knew and grew up with no longer exists. The Sangwoo of now was completely different from his past, and it was all thanks to the influence of money in his life. And that was exactly what The Taker was trying to prove, trying to make Gi-hun become.

And that realization hit him hard. He liked to think of himself as the exception to the rule, but now he realized that most people would never understand how meaningless money really was. Because now he knew that people would change — even without money itself, but with the idea of it.

“And you know what else, Gi-hun?” He really didn’t want to know, but Sangwoo kept going — as if insulting him was some twisted form of stress relief.

“I bet your daughter is living a much better life out there than she ever would here, stuck with a terrible father like you.”

And then — in the blink of an eye — all his thoughts vanished.

All he could think of was red.

Violence wasn’t the first thought that crossed his mind. But against all common sense, he opened the door to the house.

The lock was broken — just as he had expected. Without questioning the reason why the house had been left so vulnerable, he went straight to the black bag filled with cash.

The place was still a mess, but it was the three large pools of blood on the floor that revealed what had really happened there.

Gi-hun gathered all the scattered bills, stuffed them into the bag, and if he didn’t know any better, he might have thought it was just trash — well, it might have been for him.

Grabbing the bag roughly, he returned to the door. Sangwoo stared at him, shocked, as he finally understood what Gi-hun meant by "mess."

Gi-hun shoved the bag against his chest before Sangwoo could react. His eyes burned with rage.

“If money is so important to you, then take it and get the hell out of here.” His voice was sharp as glass.

Sangwoo opened the bag, his face twisting into a mix of disbelief and shock.

“But don’t you ever — ever — suggest that I’m not a good father.”

Sangwoo’s hands tightened around the bag, and he walked away without saying another word. No apology would calm the storm raging inside Gi-hun now.

Only after a few moments did Gi-hun finally process what he had just done.

No more excuses. No more justifications. This might be his last day alive.

And if it was — he would choose to die without regrets.

So, he picked up the phone.

“Hello?” In-ho’s voice echoed in his ear.

“I spent the money.”

Silence.

“Okay.”

“Can I come over?”

“Yes.”

As soon as he arrived, In-ho opened the door, dressed as if he were ready for bed — a white shirt and dark sweatpants.

“Hi.” He greeted.

“Hi.”

“I set up the couch for myself. You can have the bed.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The tension in the air was palpable, but neither of them dared to act on it.
In-ho stepped aside to let Gi-hun in, and he walked toward the bedroom mechanically, barely acknowledging the detective.

Just like before, that thing between them was still there — heavy and unspoken. But Gi-hun still couldn’t find the courage to make the first move.

The bedroom looked the same as before — bed made, decorations in place, bathroom door closed. No sign of that mask though — which, on second thought, was a relief.

Lying down on the bed, the last few events flashed through his mind like a fast-forwarded movie.

There were a thousand things he could have done differently — but the conclusion would have been the same.

And, unbelievably, he hadn’t even considered the consequences.

Time felt frozen, as if nothing existed beyond that moment. Once he walked out of that place, his fate would be sealed. He still hadn't really accepted what he felt, for In-ho but he couldn't wait any longer, because maybe he didn't have time anymore.

And thinking about that… he decided there was no reason to wait any longer.

Denial wouldn’t help him after death — so he might as well make the most of the time he had while he was still alive.

He got up and prepared to walk to the living room, trying to put together a quick speech for when he saw In-ho.

But as soon as he opened the door — He came face-to-face with the detective, who was also walking toward him.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Both of them knowing exactly what this meant.

Words were pointless now.

In-ho was the one who took the first step, closing the distance between them. Gi-hun’s eyes widened slightly, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.

In-ho’s long fingers brushed lightly against the side of Gi-hun’s face, the tips gliding over his skin like a warm breath. Gi-hun held his breath, his eyes fixed on the detective’s lips — now dangerously close.

“Are you sure about this?” In-ho’s voice was low and rough, laced with careful hesitation.

Gi-hun didn’t answer with words.

He leaned in, his lips meeting In-ho’s in a hesitant kiss — filled with desperate need.

In-ho responded instantly, his arms wrapping around Gi-hun’s waist, pulling him closer. The kiss started soft, exploratory — but it quickly deepened. In-ho’s tongue slipped between Gi-hun’s lips, and he let out a soft moan against the detective’s mouth because it just felt right, his fingers clutching the thin fabric of his shirt.

The door closed behind them with a soft click, and In-ho pushed Gi-hun against it, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Gi-hun’s hands slid up In-ho’s broad shoulders, feeling the solid muscles beneath the thin shirt. He didn’t know what he was doing, but that didn’t matter.

In-ho was leading the moment with a patience and certainty that left Gi-hun breathless.

When they broke apart to breathe, Gi-hun stared at him with glazed eyes, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. The detective smiled faintly, his thumb brushing over Gi-hun's swollen lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” In-ho murmured, his eyes dark with desire.

Gi-hun let out a shaky laugh, his fingers tracing the line of In-ho’s jaw before pulling him into another kiss — more urgent, more desperate.

The detective guided him toward the bed without haste, his hands gliding over Gi-hun's body with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of the moment. Gi-hun moaned when In-ho's lips moved to his neck, leaving slow, teasing kisses on his sensitive skin.

He allowed himself to surrender, giving in to In-ho's firm yet careful touch. The fear he had felt before — of death, of an uncertain future — faded with every kiss, every touch.

For a moment, he felt safe.

And if this really were his last day alive… at least he would die knowing what it felt like to truly give in.

The next moments blurred together — kisses exchanged, clothes discarded, and the heat of their bodies mixing into the dense air.

Any lingering doubt disappeared the moment Gi-hun saw In-ho on top of him, shirtless, his knees trapping Gi-hun’s hips against the bed. In-ho smiled darkly, his eyes shining under the dim light.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

Gi-hun felt his body burn even more.

The sensation of bare skin against skin made his heart pound. In-ho's lips descended along Gi-hun's neck, gently sucking and nibbling while his hands explored every inch of the other's body. Gi-hun gasped, his hips rising towards the touch, seeking more, without even being aware of it.

In-ho slid his hands down Gi-hun's waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles on his warm skin as his lips descended along his chest, nibbling his way to one of his nipples. Gi-hun moaned loudly, his fingers digging into In-ho's hair. His body reacted as if it were on fire, each touch igniting something in him that he had never felt before.

"In-ho..." He whispered; his voice broken by desire. In-ho looked up at him, his eyes darkened, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his own breath.

His fingers slid along the line of Gi-hun's pants, pulling them down with agonizing slowness. Gi-hun's eyes closed reflexively, his whole-body tense in anticipation.

He felt In-ho's lips sliding down his stomach, his warm breath against his skin as the detective descended further and further. When In-ho rose again, they were both completely exposed, the warmth of their bodies mingling with the dense air that filled the room.

Gi-hun panted, his face flushed, his eyes watery with contained desire. In-ho stared at him with an expression that made Gi-hun's whole body tingle — that mixture of tenderness and possession, as if Gi-hun were something he wanted to keep only for himself.

In-ho leaned in, his lips hovering over Gi-hun's as his body slowly aligned over the other. Gi-hun felt the tip of In-ho's member brush against him, and his whole body reacted, his hips instinctively moving to meet him.

"You can still stop." In-ho murmured against his lips, his voice laden with fragile control. Gi-hun had never done this before, so he expected to feel apprehensive.

But, with desire clouding his mind, he opened his eyes, his fingers sliding through In-ho's hair, pulling him into a deep kiss before murmuring against his mouth:

"No... I want this." In-ho stared at him for a long moment, the weight of Gi-hun's words echoing between them. Then, he leaned in, his lips touching Gi-hun's in a deep and promising kiss.

In-ho's hand slid along Gi-hun's thighs, positioning himself between them as their hips slowly aligned...

"If I do this, you'll promise to be mine?" In-ho whispered, his eyes burning with pure desire.

And then... everything stopped.

The silence was filled only with the sound of their uneven breaths, the weight of the moment hovering between them.

Gi-hun opened his eyes, his heart pounding so hard he swore In-ho could hear it. The detective smirked; his eyes gleaming dangerously in the dim light.

"Say yes..."

Gi-hun took a deep breath, his entire body trembling under the weight of anticipation.

"Yes."

And if death came for him tomorrow, at least in this moment he had truly been happy.

It had been so long since he had slept beside someone else that he couldn’t even remember how it felt.

The sheets were sticky, clinging to his skin, but it was anything but uncomfortable. It was perfect.

Curling into the softness of the mattress and the warmth of the body beside him, Gi-hun drifted into a deep sleep — the kind that makes waking up almost impossible.

And so, it went… until morning.

.

.

.

.

.

.

02:35 AM

[YOU HAVE A NEW VOICE MESSAGE]

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR IT?]

[YES]                                                                       [NO]

Hi Dad, it's me, Ga-yeong. Listen, I know we haven't talked much lately and it must be late for you now, but as you know, my birthday is coming up. I talked to Mom and she's letting me spend a few days with you in Korea! I'm calling now because I'm on the plane and I'll arrive there tomorrow afternoon.

I'll call you as soon as I get to the airport. It'll be great to spend this time with you, I love you!

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO LISTEN AGAIN OR DELETE THE MESSAGE?]

[LISTEN AGAIN]                                                                        [DELETE]

[MESSAGE DELETED]

[NO NEW VOICE MESSAGES]

.

.

.

.

.

.

[CLICK]

Chapter Text

The bed was so comfortable that he had no idea what time it was.

With his eyes still heavy with sleep, he reached toward the nightstand, where his phone was probably resting. His eyes opened slightly, irritated by the white light coming from the screen. 9:22 AM.

Feeling around the mattress beside him, he soon realized he was alone in bed — and in the room. Which, logically speaking, made sense. Business hours had already started, so In-ho had probably left for the department. Scanning through his phone notifications, besides a few missed calls from Jun-bae (oops), there was nothing particularly interesting to see.

Ignoring the slight pang of sadness that stirred in his chest, he got up to look for his clothes. They still had to talk about last night, but he would respect the detective's schedule. The room itself was a mess: tangled sheets, clothes scattered on the floor, an ugly scratch on the headboard — courtesy of In-ho. However, his clothes were perfectly folded and placed neatly on the table beside the bed.

Gi-hun smiled at the gesture. He dressed slowly; a bit clumsy due to the lingering aches from last night. He hoped it would get better over time, because as things stood, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to sit properly. That is... if they were going to stay together for much longer.

Gi-hun had no idea what they were now. Sure, last night had been... revealing. But nothing had been defined yet, so he didn’t know how to behave. If they managed to put an end to The Taker's situation and Gi-hun survived, would they have a chance to be together? If before his answer was a timid “maybe,” now he hoped it was a definite yes.

After finishing his morning routine, he walked down the hallway. Inside the bedroom, he had been sure he was alone in the apartment, but the strong smell coming from the kitchen said otherwise. As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, the sight of In-ho’s back, cooking what looked like doenjang jjigae while wearing an apron, made his heart do a somersault.

“You’re awake.” In-ho turned slightly, offering a casual smile. “I didn’t know when you’d get up, so I figured I’d make something a bit more elaborate. You can sit at the table — I’m almost done.”

“No way, I can help.” Gi-hun positioned himself next to the detective, his eyes sliding over In-ho’s profile. He looked so relaxed... Gi-hun cursed himself internally for even thinking, for a moment, that In-ho would leave him alone in the apartment. And now here he was, making breakfast for him.

“Don’t worry about it — I insist.” In-ho turned his face toward him, placing a hand on his arm to reinforce his point. “After all, I couldn’t possibly let you work after all the work you did last night.”

In-ho gave him a mischievous smile, and Gi-hun’s face flushed like a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl’s. Embarrassed, he quickly sat at the table, where plates, chopsticks, and spoons were already set out, along with a bowl of white rice and a pot of kimchi.

God... If before it was just hints, now the detective was going straight for the kill. Honestly, Gi-hun wasn’t sure if his heart could handle it. It didn’t even feel like he had slept with him less than ten hours ago.

In the meantime, In-ho poured the finished soup into two bowls and joined him at the table, sitting across from him. It looked great, and it smelled even better. The detective handed him a bowl, and Gi-hun served himself a generous portion of rice, tasting it with the doenjang jjigae and... my God, it was incredible.

“This is delicious, In-ho.” He said after swallowing, already preparing the next bite.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s a family recipe, so I have to honor it.”

“Who taught you?” He tried the kimchi next, the familiar taste stirring a distant memory.

“My mother.” In-ho replied, watching him eat with subtle fondness in his eyes.

“My mother used to make kimchi like this too.” Gi-hun smiled, the taste awakening a memory of home. “She always took so long to make it, and she wouldn’t let me have even a single bite until it was ready. But the wait was always worth it.”

“And she doesn’t make it anymore?” In-ho asked, his tone soft but attentive.

“Ah...” Gi-hun’s smile faded. He had always assumed In-ho knew everything about his life, so he had never bothered to talk about himself much. “She passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” In-ho’s expression mirrored his, though his tone remained neutral, as if he was careful not to push him.

“It’s okay, it’s been a long time.” He said, focusing on picking up a portion of rice with his chopsticks.

“I lost mine a long time ago too.”

Gi-hun lifted his eyes, about to ask who In-ho was talking about, but then he remembered the picture in the hallway. The dark-haired woman standing next to In-ho, smiling. His ex-wife.

“I lost them both, actually.” In-ho continued, his voice more contained. “She was pregnant.”

Gi-hun felt his chest tighten at the confession but remained silent, letting In-ho reveal the part of his past he had been guarding until now. It was as if he was finally allowing Gi-hun to enter his private life — even more than before.

“She developed acute liver cirrhosis. Her only options were to terminate the pregnancy or have the baby and risk dying.” He said, a hollow smile on his face. “She decided to take the risk.”

Gi-hun froze.

“We didn’t have enough money for a transplant. I begged her to reconsider and give up on the baby, but she wouldn’t change her mind. She said, ‘This is our child, and I would never give up on him.’ She was so stubborn.”

That was devastating. Having to choose between one life and another wasn’t an easy decision — and Gi-hun didn’t judge him for any of it. He must have really loved her. At the same time, Gi-hun understood how she had felt. He couldn’t imagine his life without Ga-yeong. Even with the distance, just knowing that she was well and happy was enough to comfort his heart.

“The end of the story is exactly what you’d expect.” In-ho lowered his gaze. “She didn’t survive.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Silence settled between them, heavy, while the food grew cold on the table.

“And as a result, I threw myself into work,” In-ho resumed, his voice low. “So much so that I even became captain of my district.”

“You were a captain?” Gi-hun asked, finally breaking the silence. That explained Dae-ho’s nickname — and why In-ho was so well-off now.

“Yes, for a long time.” In-ho spun the teacup between his fingers. “With nothing to hold me back, I dedicated myself completely to police work. At first, it was a good distraction. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that it wasn’t what I wanted for my life. And it wasn’t what she would have wanted for me either.”

His hands closed around the teacup.

“So, I went back to where I started.”

“Went back to being a detective,” Gi-hun concluded, surprised by the revelation.

“Exactly.” In-ho raised his eyes to him, his gaze calm and penetrating. “That was the position I held when we met. I thought it would help me find myself again. And I think it worked.”

In-ho smiled at him, as if he were saying it’s you.

And Gi-hun believed him.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. You didn’t have to,” he said when he finally managed to look away.

“I wanted to, don’t worry.” Gi-hun could still feel the detective smiling, probably finding his reaction cute. “And thank you too.”

“For what?”

“For saying yes.”

Ah. That.

He had said yes to In-ho yesterday — to the promise of being his. And he had no intention of going back on it. There were no more doubts about what they were now. Boyfriends. He had never in his life thought he’d call another man that. Well, he’d never thought he’d do so many things with another man, but the universe kept proving him wrong.

In-ho was his boyfriend — and God, that term sounded so childish to refer to a man over forty. Maybe it would be better to stick with lovers for now.

Gi-hun glanced up, timidly, but smiled at the detective, who was still looking at him. Yeah, they didn’t need words to affirm what they felt. Maybe they never had. Even before the kiss, there had been countless situations where his mind unconsciously wandered back to the detective. Before, he hadn’t known what it meant. Now, he understood. But the reverse still confused him.

“When did you start… um… feeling this way about me?” Well, if this was a moment for revelations, it would be good to lay all the cards on the table.

Surprisingly, the detective looked away, preferring to stare at the teacup he was holding rather than maintain eye contact. Was he nervous?

“To be honest… since we met.”

The confession nearly made Gi-hun choke on air. What? Oh, that long?

“You fascinated me at first. No one had ever seen The Taker and lived to tell the story, and that alone made me pay attention. But then, seeing the way you acted, how you vehemently rejected the money, how you were the exception to his sick games… That made me see you differently.”

Gi-hun fidgeted with his hands under the table, feeling his face heat up. It had been a long time since someone had confessed to him — too long.

“That and, well, everything else.”

Gi-hun frowned, confused, about to ask what the detective meant — only to be answered by In-ho’s gaze sliding slowly down his body.

His mouth fell open in shock as the detective smiled, amused by his reaction.

“Are you serious?” Gi-hun asked, still processing.

“Completely.”

In-ho really did seem more at ease now that the barriers between them had fallen. He seemed more open, easier to talk to. Gi-hun felt like he didn’t have to measure his words anymore, worrying that In-ho would judge him for saying something stupid. He couldn’t believe it had taken a killer’s interest in him to give him the chance to “date” a police detective.

Sometimes, fate was really insane.

Wait a second. Fate?

What was his fate, anyway?

Like an avalanche, all his fears and worries came rushing back with full force.

Oh, shit.

He spent the money.

Sensing that something was visibly wrong, In-ho quickly asked:

“Gi-hun, are you okay?”

Feeling a weight in his stomach, he couldn’t even keep looking at the food without the sensation that he was going to throw up.

“Last night… I spent the money.” He raised his eyes, pale. “He’s coming now, isn’t he? He’s coming to kill me?”

If the idea hadn’t bothered him before, now it was the opposite.

“Given his track record, it’s likely.” In-ho replied, serious, his expression tightening. “But, if you don’t mind me asking… why did you do it? Even I was convinced you would keep it.”

Gi-hun opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. He couldn’t quite define the exact reason. Maybe it was Sang-woo’s insistence on proving that he could never even dream of helping him, or his insults that had almost made him consider fighting. All of those were valid explanations, but deep down, there was another reason.

“I just want this to end,” he admitted, his voice low.

It was In-ho’s turn to widen his eyes, visibly confused.

“What do you mean?”

Gi-hun took a deep breath, resting his elbows on the table.

“I just… I’m tired of all of this.” He shook his head. “I thought that if I somehow rejected the money, if I tried to prove that with or without money I wouldn’t change, he would leave me alone. But, just like you all said, that’s not going to happen. No matter what I do.”

He closed his eyes for a second, searching for the strength to continue.

“So I thought that if I spent it on anything, if I failed his test, it would make him come to me so we could put an end to this. Once and for all.”

In-ho shook his head in understanding, following the logic behind Gi-hun’s words.

“But aren’t you scared? Even though I know we can protect you from him, I thought that even the idea of death scared you.”

“It does. A lot.” Gi-hun sighed, resting his elbows on the table. “But what terrifies me more is having to live in fear. Every calculated step, every poorly lived day… It’s ruining my life.”

In-ho stared at him for a moment, his eyes softening. “I see.”

He made a move to get up but instead leaned across the table and gently took Gi-hun’s hand.

“If you want my opinion, I think you’ve already passed The Taker’s test.”

Gi-hun leaned in slightly, his eyes meeting In-ho’s. He whispered a soft, “Thank you.”

“I promise you: we’re going to end this. Once and for all.”

In-ho gave Gi-hun’s hand a gentle squeeze, and he returned the gesture, feeling the firm warmth of In-ho’s fingers against his own. He couldn’t explain why, but that reassurance was everything he needed to chase away even the darkest thoughts. There was something intangible about In-ho that made him feel perfectly safe — like nothing could touch him as long as he was by his side.

After a moment, In-ho pulled away, gathering the plates. He carried what he could to the sink before returning to get the rest.

Gi-hun stood up too, certain that this time he could help with the chores.

“Don’t even think about it,” In-ho said without even giving Gi-hun the chance to speak. “I’ll take care of this. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes. You can stay in the living room or take a walk while I’m in it. After that, we’ll head to the department.”

“Aren’t you late for work?” Gi-hun tried to hide his dissatisfaction at having his help rejected, choosing to shift the focus to that detail instead. In fact, In-ho should have been at work some time ago.

“Maybe.” In-ho gave him a wink. “But it was for a good reason.”

Gi-hun rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop a small smile from forming. It was definitely the perfect time for a walk — or things could happen.

Leaving the building, the first thing he saw was Hyun-ju, leaning against the wall beside the large iron gate. Unusual.

“So?” she asked as soon as Gi-hun was close enough.

He furrowed his brows, confused. “What?”

“You know. Did you two sleep together?”

Torn between being angry or surprised, Gi-hun opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling his face heat up. That reaction probably already gave away the answer he couldn’t formulate.

“Damn it. Now I owe Dae-ho thirty thousand won.” She made a tsk with her mouth before starting to walk away. “Oh, but congrats, by the way.”

Hyun-ju was already almost at the corner when he finally snapped out of his trance, murmuring a quiet “You’re welcome?” before following in the same direction — but keeping a safe distance.

So, it wasn’t just in his head! Besides Jun-ho, the rest of the team was also gossiping about their relationship. That bunch of kids with nothing better to do… and they were even betting on him? Unbelievable.

But even though he was mentally cursing them, he didn’t feel genuinely angry. On the contrary, it was even a relief to know that everyone not only supported the relationship but also hoped it would work out.

It had only been two days (or one?) since he and In-ho had gotten together, but he knew that, sooner or later, he’d have to tell Jung-bae, and his ex-wife, and everyone else. Okay, maybe she didn’t need to know, but his daughter would probably end up telling her at some point. Besides, he didn't need to tell everyone, he didn't owe anyone anything, so why would he do that? You know what, he could afford to wait until this whole ‘serial killer madness’ was over before revealing anything. That would be better, yes.

The scenery in In-ho’s neighborhood was really something to see.

Mostly flat — very different from Gi-hun’s — the area was clean and tree-lined. The area was dominated by buildings and a few houses, all following the same modern design. The streets were double-lane, with bike paths and a large park in the center that seemed to bring the local community together.

It didn’t exactly look like a family-friendly neighborhood; it had more of a commercial feel. But even so, the place was full of children and couples enjoying the day’s breeze. The playground had several pieces of equipment, similar to the ones Gi-hun was used to seeing, but while only a handful of kids were actually using them, the rest were sitting on benches, glued to their electronic devices. Truly sad.

While envying the innocence and ignorance of those children, he almost didn’t notice when a man stopped right in front of him, seemingly waiting for Gi-hun to notice his presence.

When he turned, he didn’t recognize the man. It was someone he had never seen before, but he looked as ordinary as any other stranger he came across.

“Mr. Seong Gi-hun?”

The man was holding what looked like a microphone, but smaller than those used by reporters from major news networks. Wondering how that stranger knew his full name, he didn’t feel compelled to respond. However, the man didn’t seem like he would make any effort to leave without getting an answer. That was strange, but at least he didn’t seem like a psychopathic stalker — if that was any comfort.

“Yes…?” Gi-hun replied, hesitant.

“What luck!” The man smiled. “My name is Ji-ho Kim. I'm a reporter for the radio station Fatal Frequency. We're preparing the next episode of our show Under Investigation, and we’ve learned that your house was the scene of a triple homicide. Could you give us a statement about the case?”

Before Gi-hun could react, Ji-ho had already shoved the microphone uncomfortably close to his face.

Fatal Frequency… Of course. That was the station that had covered the story about The Taker weeks ago, back when he first heard about the case. So it wasn’t an exaggeration when people said the vultures from that station would relentlessly chase after any relevant crime.

He just had no idea how this Ji-ho guy had found him there, of all places.

“Some witnesses claimed to have seen banknotes scattered around the scene. Is it true that this incident could be connected to the famous serial killer Giver-Taken, also known as The Taker?” the reporter asked, completely ignoring Gi-hun’s lack of participation.

Oh, no. That kind of information had already reached the media? The police hadn’t officially disclosed anything, but people loved to believe whatever they wanted — and this guy seemed very confident in what he was saying.

Gi-hun clenched his mouth shut, trying hard not to show any reaction.

“Come on, friend, just a word for the listeners. I'm sure people would be thrilled with the possibility. So, did he choose your house randomly or are you some kind of accomplice?”

What did he call him? An accomplice?! Of the same person who was actively planning his death at that very moment. He had to be joking

Gi-hun felt his blood boil, ready to throw some harsh truths in the face of that nosy and lying reporter, but someone was faster.

A precise slap hit the microphone.

“Do you want to stop bothering people on the street?”

He recognized the voice before even seeing the face.

It was Sae-byeok.

Ji-ho turned his body to face her, irritated. “Bothering? I’m in the middle of an interview!” He gestured to the microphone connected to the small recording device attached to his waist.

“Sure. With someone who clearly doesn’t want to be interviewed.” Sae-byeok crossed her arms, giving him a disdainful look. “Get out of here before I break that cheap device of yours.”

“How dare you?! This is state-of-the-art!”

“Even more reason for you to not want me to break it.”

She took a step forward, threatening to hit the microphone again. Ji-ho stepped back, giving both of them a dirty look before muttering something under his breath and walking away hurriedly.

The two of them watched him until he disappeared into the crowd.

“There. Now we’re even.” Sae-byeok broke the silence.

Gi-hun blinked a few times before realizing what she was talking about. She was probably referring to the fact that he had prevented the police from going after her before. But he didn’t think the two situations were exactly comparable.

Sae-byeok was already starting to walk toward the park when Gi-hun ran to catch up with her.

“Hey, wait a second.” He said, starting to walk beside her. “You didn’t even let me thank you.”

“No need.” She shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just returning the favor.”

They continued walking in silence for a while, strolling through the park. The place was calm, with a gentle breeze swaying the trees. The sounds of children’s laughter and distant conversations created a false sense of security.

Sae-byeok suddenly stopped.

For a moment, Gi-hun thought she was going to tell him to stop following her. But instead, she just sat down on one of the nearby benches.

“So… what are you doing here?” He asked, still standing beside her.

“It’s easier to steal from people in this area.” She answered unbothered.

He knew she wasn't serious, but he still felt a pang in his heart knowing that this was still the girl's reality. Noticing that he didn’t seem too convinced, Sae-byeok sighed.

“Okay, I’m here for my brother.”

She nodded toward one of the children on the swing — a boy around eight years old. He and the others seemed to be the only ones enjoying themselves outside of the internet, just as childhood should be.

“The first time I came here, it was really with the intention of stealing.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “But he made some friends when I left him alone at the park. Now I bring him here to play sometimes.”

Realizing how personal that conversation was becoming and how surprisingly open she was being, Gi-hun sat down beside her without saying anything. They both relaxed while watching the children being children.

“What’s his name?”

“Cheol. Kang Cheol.”

“Fits him. And it looks like he loves the park.” Gi-hun commented, while one of the boys fell off the swing right into the sand, only to get up smiling immediately after. “I used to bring my daughter to places like this. But she was always more of a homemade person… preferred playing with dolls at a friend’s house.”

Sae-byeok snorted, but the sound wasn’t sarcastic. It was a short, almost empty sigh. The reaction of someone who had never even had a doll to play with. Gi-hun felt his chest tighten.

Their relationship was strange, born from wrong and confusing circumstances. But somehow, now he felt a certain familiarity with her. They came from different realities and tragedies, but there was something similar in their scars. Maybe that’s why she was sharing something so personal now.

Because of that, maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he asked for advice.

“If someone offered you a very large sum of money…” He started, his voice low, testing the waters. “But with the condition that you would die right after using it… would you still spend it?”

She didn’t look away from her brother, but Gi-hun felt that she was paying attention. He thought she would take some time to consider the question, but the answer came without hesitation:

“Yes.”

Gi-hun blinked, surprised. “What would you spend it on?”

This time, she really stopped to think. But Gi-hun waited patiently until she reached the conclusion she wanted.

“If it was really a good amount, I would use the money to locate my family and bring them to the South.”

She admitted, her gaze fixed on Cheol, who was now playing by pushing a girl on the swing. Her expression hardened — a type of resigned sadness, the kind of person who has already accepted that certain things are out of reach.

Gi-hun had always known that she was searching for someone from the first moment he met her. But the revelation that her parents were still imprisoned in North Korea hit him like a punch to the stomach.

“But... you were going to die. Doesn’t that scare you?”

Sae-byeok was silent for a while, her gaze fixed on her brother. Then she answered simply.

“Maybe.” She took a deep breath, her shoulders tense. “I just think there are things worth dying for.”

Gi-hun felt understanding washing over his body.

Things worth dying for...

He had never thought of it that way. His aversion to money had never been unjustified. The constant threat that The Taker represented in his life kept him awake at night, making him question the value of continuing to live. But Sae-byeok wasn’t wrong. There were things worth dying for. Not for the money itself, but for them.

It only made his conscience grow even heavier. He had spent all 4 billion wons with Sangwoo, proved his point... but that bastard didn’t deserve even a thousand wons of what he had. money he could have given to her.

Looking at Sae-byeok, he saw the opposite of Sangwoo. She would never give up her morals for money. She would use it for the right reasons. And she would die happily, as long as it was for something that truly mattered.

Thinking about it, maybe she would survive The Taker. Maybe she was the perfect antithesis to the distorted view the serial killer had of society. And if he did kill her, it would be for the wrong reasons, because she would never give him the satisfaction of being right.

“Of course, that’s a selfish thought.” Sae-byeok continued, her voice almost fading. “But Cheol deserves a better future. More than I deserve.”

Gi-hun turned his face to look at her. She was looking at the ground now, her eyes empty.

That self-deprecating thought hit him hard. He understood perfectly what it was like to feel unworthy of a second chance. Apparently, they were more alike than he had imagined.

“But... why the question?”

Her voice was hesitant, as if she feared the answer.

Gi-hun hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.

“For nothing. Just something I’ve been thinking about.”

She gave him a suspicious look but didn’t press further. She just returned to watching her brother on the swing, his smile as innocent as the world around him was cruel.

They stayed like that for a while longer.

After enjoying each other's company, a little longer, In-ho called, saying they should go to the department. They said a brief goodbye before returning to the apartment.

By now, accompanying In-ho to work was starting to feel like a routine. But unlike the other times they shared the same car, this time the detective made a point of opening the door for Gi-hun on the way in and out—a small gesture, but one that made Gi-hun's heart beat too fast. To make matters worse, In-ho kept his right hand on his thigh throughout the journey, his thumb gently sliding back and forth.

Gi-hun spent the whole way trying not to think too much about it, which was impossible, of course. He alternated his gaze between the blurred landscape out the window and In-ho's hand, trying to convince himself that it meant nothing. But the warmth of his hand against the fabric of his pants said otherwise.

When they arrived at the department, they were immersed in a light conversation about In-ho's peculiar tastes in tea—seriously, blue pea tea? Who likes that? — but the casual atmosphere changed as soon as they walked in. All eyes turned to them as soon as they crossed the door. The greetings were polite, but the looks carried something more, like suspicion, curiosity. The only one who wasn't in the room when they arrived was Hyun-ju, who had left to attend an urgent call, but returned shortly after, joining the others.

Gi-hun had no idea how he should act. Only Hyun-ju knew about them—and, from all indications, she hadn't told anyone—but the way his colleagues looked at them suggested that perhaps something had already been noticed. He decided to just go with the flow, acting as if nothing had changed.

The first part of the day was focused on creating security strategies to protect No-eul and Hyun-ju, while Young-mi and Dae-ho focused on reviewing the cameras and security devices. Now that his life was more at risk than ever, finding any information about The Taker—no matter how small—could be the difference between living and dying.

By now, it was obvious that The Taker already knew what had happened the night before. It was only a matter of time before he acted.

While In-ho explained to the two officers that they should no longer hesitate if they saw anything suspicious, Jun-ho reviewed old evidence on the investigation board. Based on the theory that the serial killer collected his victims' blood and stored it, Jun-ho believed that he should have a room or warehouse where he kept such evidence. As soon as he heard the theory, In-ho immediately agreed and added the information to the board.

Gi-hun watched the movement while following Dae-ho and Young-mi. Hours of video footage passed quickly on their screens, their eyes glued to the images in search of any detail that might have gone unnoticed.

"Did you get anything?" He asked, sitting behind Dae-ho.

"Nothing yet." Dae-ho grumbled, without taking his eyes off the screen.

On In-ho's orders, they were to review both the videos and the captured audio. This meant that Gi-hun was forced to listen to the brief conversation he had with In-ho after accidentally using the belt tracker.

He held his breath as the recording began to play:

"In-ho... hi."

"Listen, it was a misunderstanding. I pressed the button by accident."

"Are you sure you're okay, Mr. Seong?"

"Absolutely. Ahn, don't worry."

His own voice trembled; the lie so obvious now that Gi-hun wondered how In-ho believed it. Even he wouldn't have believed it if he were listening to it now. Gi-hun glanced at In-ho, who was on the other side of the room, giving instructions to Hyun-ju and No-eul. He hadn't believed the excuse, had he?

After a few more minutes of quiet work and low conversations, In-ho announced that it was time for a break, offering to buy coffee for everyone in the room, along with Jun-ho.

"I'd like an Americano." Hyun-ju was the first to respond.

"Espresso." No-eul's, direct and objective as always.

"A cappuccino, please." Young-mi said softly, almost shyly.

"I'll have a strawberry frappuccino with whipped cream and strawberry topping." Gi-hun gave Dae-ho an incredulous look, who just shrugged.

"I like the taste." Dae-ho replied naturally.

"And you, Gi-hun?" In-ho asked, leaning dangerously close to the chair where Gi-hun was sitting.

"Me? Well... maybe the usual?"

"Sure." In-ho replied with a discreet smile, leaning even closer until their faces almost touched.

Gi-hun's heart jumped in his chest. Of course, with their relationship reaching a new stage, things like this were to be expected. But the truth is, he had no idea how to behave in public with In-ho. Even though the detective was gentle and caring in the safety of his home or in the car, this was different. There, they had eyes on them.

The world had come a long way in terms of acceptance, but considering the time they were born, there was still a weight—a natural hesitation—in showing themselves so vulnerable to others. So maybe it would take a while for them to really get comfortable with it. And that's okay.

So why the hell did In-ho give him a goodbye kiss on the lips?

A brief and light kiss.

In front of everyone.

And then he left as if nothing had happened, with an equally surprised Jun-ho following right behind him.

The whole room went silent. Gi-hun froze, eyes wide, as the reality of the situation sank in.

 "Pass over the 30,000 won, Hyun-ju!" Dae-ho shouted beside him, snapping Gi-hun out of his trance.

"Urgh, I told you I lost, you just didn't want to believe it." Hyun-ju retorted, pulling the money out of her wallet with an irritated expression.

"Of course not, you didn't have proof."

"Was that enough proof for you?" She crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows.

"I think for all of us." Dae-ho wiggled his eyebrows at Young-mi, who gave a discreet giggle. "Did you two finally get together? Congratulations!"

Gi-hun blinked, stunned, staring at Dae-ho. "Wait... how long has this bet been going on?"

The three exchanged somewhat embarrassed glances before Dae-ho admitted, "Honestly? I suspected from the first time you came here. It was something about the way he looked at you. But we only started putting money on it after that time you came together."

Oh my God. Has it been that long?

Not knowing whether to be angry about the bet or embarrassed by all the attention he was getting, Gi-hun tried not to show the heat rising to his face. It was then that Young-mi's soft voice stood out amidst the commotion of Dae-ho trying to justify himself:

"Don't worry, Mr. Seong. We're all very happy for you two being together. You make a very beautiful couple."

The other conversations ceased, and everyone in the room silently agreed with Young-mi's comment. Gi-hun's face flushed again, but he smiled slightly at her, grateful. Thinking about it, when all this was over, maybe it would be good to keep in touch with everyone on the team. The fear of alienation he felt now seemed so pointless in the face of the support and acceptance they were offering him.

Even No-eul, who rarely engaged in casual conversations, decided to speak up:

"Just so you know, I was the first to predict this."

Gi-hun blinked, confused. "What?"

"You two." No-eul replied simply.

Gi-hun frowned, until the memory of his first interaction with her emerged in his mind like a flash:

"Don't even think about it."

She couldn't be talking about that... or could she?

"Were you talking about In-ho?" He asked, shocked.

"Yes." No-eul confirmed naturally. "You have no idea how many people fall for Detective Hwang when he's in charge of taking statements. It's honestly exhausting."

The silence that fell over the room was almost palpable. That was probably the most words No-eul had said in a single conversation since Gi-hun met her.

"I thought it would be the same with you, because... you know. But it's good that I was wrong." She ended the subject as quickly as she had started it, falling silent again, probably for the next few days.

Gi-hun smiled. That might have been the nicest thing No-eul had ever said to him. He felt a pang of jealousy knowing that apparently so many people were attracted to In-ho, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. After all, at the end of the day, he was the one who got the kiss.

Many questions and inappropriate comments later—"Okay, but how big?" "Hyun-ju! That's not appropriate." "I know, I know... but how big?"—The detective brothers finally returned with the coffees. While distributing each respective order, In-ho exchanged a knowing look with Gi-hun. The truth is, the last ten minutes had been a test of patience for both of them, considering the barrage of invasive questions about their relationship.

For the rest of the team, however, the subject seemed to have ended. It was obvious that no one wanted to talk about their boss's new romance directly with him, so after a few more random conversation topics, everyone went back to their duties.

Jun-ho suggested that they should at least draw up a contingency plan in case The Taker made contact sooner than expected, and In-ho soon joined him to work on it. Gi-hun was about to join them when Dae-ho caught his attention.

"Mr. Gi-hun, can you come here for a sec?"

Gi-hun pushed his chair over to him, observing Dae-ho's thoughtful look as he analyzed a screen full of information indecipherable to anyone but him.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Analyzing your call history, the system says you received a call from a foreign number today, around two in the morning."

"Two in the morning?" Gi-hun frowned.

"Yes. It seems the notification was deleted from the history, but I managed to recover it. The problem is, I can't locate the call. Do you know anything about it?"

Two in the morning? Deleted call? At that time he was sound asleep—in In-ho's arms, to be more precise. He never answered that call. But if it was from a foreign number, there could only be two people.

"If it was really at that time, then I didn't answer. Did you try checking the voice calls?" He asked.

Eun-ji would only call for a good reason. And Ga-yeong always left voice messages when she couldn't speak to him directly.

"I just checked. There's nothing there. But let me try this..."

Gi-hun watched Dae-ho's fingers fly across the keyboard in automatic movements, typing quickly without even looking down.

"Here... I think I found something."

The screen displayed an audio box, approximately 25 seconds long. The time really did mark something around two something in the morning. Strange. Dae-ho looked at him before pressing play.

"Hi Dad, it's me, Ga-yeong. Listen, I know we haven't talked much lately and it must be late for you now, but as you know, my birthday is coming up. I talked to Mom and she's letting me spend a few days with you in Korea! I'm calling now because I'm on the plane and I'll arrive there tomorrow afternoon. I'll call you as soon as I get to the airport. It'll be great to spend this time with you, I love you!"

What the hell?

A call from Ga-yeong?

And more importantly... she was coming to Korea?

Now?!

Holy sh—

"Holy shit." Dae-ho finished for him, staring at the computer screen in shock.

"What is it?" Gi-hun asked, feeling his stomach drop at Dae-ho's startled expression.

"Shit, shit, shit." Dae-ho began typing furiously, his eyes glued to the screen. The frenetic rhythm of the keys echoed through the room, making even Young-mi raise her head from her desk with a worried look. Now Gi-hun was really starting to get scared.

"Dae-ho, what's the problem?"

The young man ignored the question, accessing websites, switching windows, entering codes. The movements were fast and mechanical, almost instinctive, until he stopped abruptly.

Dae-ho froze, his eyes fixed on the screen, his lips parted as if he had seen a ghost.

"Mr. Gi-hun..." His voice was cold. His eyes were completely empty. "If you didn't delete that message... then someone else did."

Gi-hun's heart turned to ice.

"I did a more in-depth analysis of your cell phone." Dae-ho continued, his expression blank. "There's an active remote control malware."

"What?" Gi-hun could barely process the information.

"Someone hacked your cell phone. Which means they could access and view whatever they wanted on your device."

Gi-hun opened his mouth in disbelief, his heart pounding violently against his chest.

"B-but how is that possible? How did this happen?" His voice came out louder than he intended, and the echo in the room drew curious glances from his colleagues.

Dae-ho moved slightly away from the keyboard, crossing his arms while his serious gaze remained fixed on the screen. "If this is true... then that's how The Taker always knows what you were doing."

Without even leaving his house.

The shock ran through Gi-hun's body like lightning. Every misstep, every piece of information The Taker seemed to know... it all made sense now.

They weren't just being watched. They were being manipulated.

"A program this powerful and untraceable could only have been installed remotely. That means whoever did this had to get their hands on your cell phone." Dae-ho explained, his tone serious and cold.

"But I never left my cell phone alone long enough for that to happen... how—"

And then it hit him.

The first time he was at the department, his cell phone was taken to install the tracker.

And The Taker could be someone from the police.

Damn it.

Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT.

The shock spread through Gi-hun's body like an electric current. His mouth went dry. His heart raced. He felt his stomach churn violently.

"What's going on?" In-ho's voice snapped him out of his stupor. He was there, standing next to Jun-ho, his face filled with concern.

Now all eyes in the room were on them. The weight of the discovery hung like an impending storm.

Gi-hun took a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. "I think I found out how our criminal was getting information about the victims."

Dae-ho enlarged the screen, displaying the details of the program installed on Gi-hun's cell phone. Lines of code stood out like a silent warning of imminent danger.

"He was monitoring everything." Dae-ho said, his voice low, almost reverent in the face of the gravity of the situation.

Jun-ho ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide. "So that's how he was always one step ahead."

"Yes." Gi-hun nodded. "But there's something that doesn't make sense."

"What?" In-ho asked.

"Why would he delete that message?"

Jun-ho stared at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Gi-hun looked at the clock. 7:15 PM.

"My daughter's message. Why would he delete it?" His voice was tense, his breathing quickening. "She said she'd arrive this afternoon."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

The thought going through Gi-hun's mind was so unbearable that he refused to consider it.

Then, as if an invisible signal had been given, Young-mi and Dae-ho threw themselves at the computers, typing with frenetic speed.

"Connecting to the Incheon International Airport system." Young-mi said, her voice dry and professional.

"Searching security camera footage." Dae-ho completed, without taking his eyes off the screen.

Gi-hun tried to call his daughter.

Once. Out of range.

He tried again. Out of range.

Again.

Nothing.

This doesn't make sense.

She should have arrived hours ago.

Why hasn't she called him?

Did something happen on the plane? Or with her cell phone?

In-ho's hand on his shoulder startled him. The touch was firm, yet careful. When Gi-hun looked up, he met In-ho's anguished and worried gaze. But he said nothing—which was a relief. Any attempt at comfort would only make Gi-hun break down completely.

The next few minutes were torturously long.

Gi-hun continued the vicious cycle of calling, hearing the electronic voice say "out of range," hanging up, and trying again.

Then Young-mi let out an audible sigh.

Not a sigh of relief.

A sigh of fear.

Dae-ho, who was next to her, was the first to see what had made Young-mi so pale. He stood still, his face drained of color, his eyes wide. Slowly, he turned to Gi-hun.

"Dae-ho...?" Gi-hun asked, his heart pounding in his ears.

"She..." Dae-ho swallowed hard. "She left the airport."

"What?" Gi-hun felt a chill run down his spine.

"She left with someone."

Gi-hun froze.

"Someone?" He repeated, his voice wavering.

Dae-ho looked at him, his face tense, terror reflected in his eyes. Then he knew.

It wasn't just anyone.

Gi-hun felt the air leave his lungs, just thinking about it.

She left with The Taker.

Chapter Text

The pain of hitting the ground didn’t even reach him completely.

Even though he was held by the arm by In-ho, his knees still hit the floor, spreading a stabbing pain that would come to bother him in the future. But the shock and disbelief were far greater than anything else for now.

Through the airport's security camera footage, he could recognize Ga-yeong among the dozens of people disembarking from the Los Angeles flight. After finding her suitcase, she headed to the exit, where — without even having time to grab her phone to supposedly call Gi-hun — a car parked right in front of her.

She and the driver talked for a few moments before she got into the car.

Willingly.

The exchange might not have seemed suspicious at first, but the car didn’t appear to be a licensed taxi or ride-share vehicle, considering Ga-yeong didn’t even touch her phone to request such a service.

Dae-ho was still quick enough to run the car’s plate through the police database. As expected, the vehicle had been reported stolen a few days ago.

Due to the angle and distance, it was impossible to see who the driver was. The windows were tinted, and he only lowered them slightly, with Ga-yeong blocking the view that could have been their major lead at that moment.

Every scene in that footage made his stomach turn. He couldn’t understand why she would get into a stranger’s car so carelessly. Had all the things he taught her about never trusting strangers meant nothing? Still, there was no point in being angry with her now, because he was terrified.

Terrified at the possibility that he might not even see her again.

The thought of death still scared him, but if his conversation with Sae-byeok was good for anything, it was for calming some of those fears. But now? His daughter’s life was at risk, and it was all his fault.

Gi-hun wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to her. He wouldn’t know how to live in a world where she had been hurt because of something he did. He thought The Taker had some sort of moral code, as twisted as it might be. But this... this. He couldn’t accept it.

And despite the fear, he was furious.

This was between the two of them — there was no reason to involve Ga-yeong in this. Still, it was just as he thought: that he would do something unexpected to catch them off guard. But the thought that it could reach his family had never crossed his mind. He had trusted the distance between them, certain that he could go through this without involving them.

This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream.

“Young-mi, Dae-ho, track the car’s plate in case he’s still driving it. Also check all available security cameras around the rest of the airport and the street. Hyun-ju, you’re coming with me and Jun-ho. And No-eul, take Gi-hun home,” In-ho quickly ordered his team, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The two tech specialists immediately jumped into their work, not wasting even a second. Everyone looked tense and uneasy, but Gi-hun only processed the part where his name was mentioned. They want me to go home? He thought.

“There’s no way I’m just going to leave.” He replied, his tone louder than expected. “We’re talking about my daughter!”

“Gi-hun, I know you’re upset right now, bu–” Jun-ho tried to reason, only to be cut off.

“Don’t come at me with that ‘leave it to the professionals’ talk. That maniac has Ga-yeong. If something happens to her I...” He stopped before finishing the sentence, afraid of sounding too morbid in the already tense moment. But that was exactly how he felt.

“I know how you feel.” This time it was In-ho who spoke. And even in his dazed state, Gi-hun knew just how true those words were. “But for now, we have nothing. We don’t know what he wants or what he’s planning. If we act irrationally, it’s the same as walking right into his trap.”

It hurts. It hurts because it was true. If getting Gi-hun to panic was his goal, then he had done an excellent job.

“So, for now, please, go home.” Their eyes met. Gi-hun’s filled with fear and anxiety, contrasting with In-ho’s understanding.

While the three officers seemed to wait for Gi-hun to decide what to do, it was clear that dragging the argument out any longer would only delay the search for Ga-yeong. So, reluctantly, he agreed.

The car ride with No-eul was somber.

Very similar to the first one they'd ever had; silence dominated the atmosphere. The difference, however, was that Gi-hun didn’t even try to spark a conversation with the stern officer, preferring instead to distract his mind with the scenery outside rather than the pessimistic thoughts haunting him.

From time to time, No-eul would glance at him out of the corner of her eye, checking if he was still present. He didn’t really care; she was just doing her job. Just like keeping an eye on him was her job now. Obviously, now more than ever, they wouldn’t leave him unsupervised. But unlike the discreet surveillance the two officers had done up until now, as soon as they reached his house—yes, his house—No-eul stood guard at the door like a nightclub bouncer.

The smell and mess of the place didn’t even bother him like it should have. He was just grateful he hadn’t been taken to Jung-bae’s house, where he would surely be bombarded with questions. He just wanted to be alone. But with No-eul acting like a babysitter, that wouldn’t be possible.

Knowing him, she knew he would try something. Hell, since they left the station, he had already been thinking about something he could do. The only reason he agreed to the detective’s suggestion was that they wouldn’t waste time—time Ga-yeong didn’t have.

Every second. Every minute. Every hour that passed was torture. As of now, Ga-yeong had already been with her kidnapper for at least three hours. God only knows what might have happened in that time. And Gi-hun… didn’t want to think about it. But every possibility ran through his mind like a goddamn movie. Over and over again, changing and replaying. All terrible enough—but all ending the same way.

He was going to lose his mind like this.

If the police hadn’t been able to discover this man’s identity in five years, how could he expect them to do it now? Being benched wouldn’t get him anywhere—he had to do something.

But… how? What did he possibly have that could help them uncover The Taker’s identity? He knew almost the same as the detectives—maybe even less. What could he have that would contribute to the investigation? A clue? A piece of evidence? Something that-

Wait.

Wait.

The hair! The hair in the bathroom.

Without wasting time, Gi-hun rushed to the room. He could feel No-eul’s eyes on him, but she didn’t stop him.

He grabbed the toothbrush holder and opened it. Just as he’d left it, the strand was still there.

Obviously, it could be nothing. In fact, it was more likely to be nothing than something. But it was the only thing he had. If there was even a single chance, no matter how small, he couldn’t let it slip away.

That was his only clue—a clue that could lead to Ga-yeong or to a dead end. Still, he simply couldn’t just sit there and wait. So, he made his decision.

He placed the hair in his wallet, the only place where he was sure he wouldn’t lose sight of it—and went to the door. He should’ve known No-eul’s absence in the room meant something, but taking advantage of the moment, Gi-hun grabbed his keys and headed out the front door. Without his car, which was still at In-ho’s house, he’d need to call a taxi. But before he could reach the street, the emotionless voice of the officer stopped him in his tracks.

“What do you think you’re doing?” It wasn’t a question, and Gi-hun sighed, knowing he’d been caught. She was strategically leaning against the wall of the neighboring house, just waiting for him to leave.

“Officer Park, plea–”

“No.” She cut him off. “I know that look—you’re about to do something stupid.”

“What? You really think th–”

“I do. I have clear orders to keep you here. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“I can’t just si–”

“Yes, you can. It’s for your own good.”

“My own good??” he said loudly, not wanting to be interrupted again. “What does my own good matter if my daughter is in danger?”

No-eul fell strangely silent, even by her standards, and Gi-hun took the chance to appeal to the emotional.

“I’d do anything for her. Anything. And you think I’m just going to sit around and wait for things to work out when I know there’s something I can do?”

He cautiously stepped closer to the officer, like approaching a wild animal that might lash out with the slightest wrong move. Still, his words seemed to be having some effect—she remained silent.
“She’s my daughter. She’s all I have.” As a final appeal, he looked straight into her nearly empty eyes. “Don’t you have someone like that? Someone you’d risk everything for, even knowing how dangerous it could be?”

Now close enough, he caught the exact moment her brows furrowed slightly, and she let out a deep sigh. On the outside, she looked like someone who would prioritize her job at all costs, but the talk about Ga-yeong seemed to have struck a chord.

“No-eul, please… let me do this,” he pleaded, one last time.

Silence. Then.

“Go.” she said, without looking at him.

“What?” he asked, hoping he’d heard correctly.

“I said go.” she repeated. “Before I regret this.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

The taxi stopped in front of the gray building of the National Institute of Forensics, an imposing structure with modern architecture, large, mirrored windows, and a discreet sign with the institution’s name in Hangul. Gi-hun rushed out, barely thanking the driver before stepping through the automatic glass doors.

The air inside was cold, tinged with the scent of chemicals and a faint metallic odor. The light-colored tile floor reflected the fluorescent lighting, and the hallways were a maze of rooms with frosted glass doors, identified by minimalist metal plaques.

He walked up to the reception desk, where a woman in a lab coat and ID badge looked at him with disinterest.

“I need to speak with someone from the genetic analysis department. It’s urgent.”

“Can you pay?” Gi-hun nodded, no time for long answers. The woman raised an eyebrow before pointing down a corridor to the right. “Third door.”

Gi-hun walked quickly, his heart pounding against his ribs. As soon as he found the room, he pushed the door open without ceremony. Inside, a middle-aged man in a pristine lab coat and thin-rimmed glasses was bent over a microscope. He looked up at the unexpected visitor, frowning.

“How can I help you?” The specialist’s voice was calm, patient, but carried a trace of restrained annoyance.

Gi-hun carefully pulled the strand of hair from his wallet and laid it on the table as if he was handling something precious. “I need a DNA analysis. Now. It’s an emergency.”

The expert picked up the sample with tweezers, inspecting it briefly before sighing and shaking his head and handing it back. “It doesn’t work like that. Forensic DNA analysis takes time—especially if we have to extract DNA from a hair without a root. It could take weeks to get a complete genetic profile.”

Gi-hun’s world seemed to collapse. Weeks. He didn’t have weeks. He didn’t even know if he had hours. His vision blurred as horrible images of Ga-yeong filled his mind. He gripped the table to keep himself standing.

“N-no... this can’t be...” His voice faltered.

This was all he had—and now he had nothing. Was this how it ended? Would he never see his daughter again?

The specialist sighed, but there was nothing more to say. Gi-hun was on the verge of giving in to despair when he heard a soft, somewhat distracted voice from the doorway.

“Maybe I can help.”

He turned to see a young woman with short black hair streaked with messy orange highlights, a slightly wrinkled lab coat, and a pair of disposable gloves on her hands. She wore a hesitant smile and rocked gently on her heels, as if her mind was torn between the present and some far-off thought. Her badge read Ji-yeong, Forensic Specialist.

The man in the lab coat scoffed, crossing his arms. “Ji-yeong, don’t give him false hope. You know this kind of analysis can’t be done quickly.”

She shrugged. “It depends.” Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and excitement. “If the hair has an intact follicle, I can try a rapid amplification technique. It’s not 100% guaranteed, but it might give us something useful in a matter of hours, not weeks.”

Gi-hun looked at her as if she were an angel fallen from the sky. “Can you do that?”

Ji-yeong gave a crooked smile and adjusted her gloves. “I can try. But if anyone asks... you were never here.”

She carefully picked up the strand of hair and motioned for him to follow her. Gi-hun didn’t hesitate, feeling that this might be his only chance to save his daughter.

They walked through narrow corridors and passed several security doors until they reached a small, isolated room—messy and chaotic, in stark contrast to the rest of the pristine lab. Crumpled stacks of paper covered the desk, test tubes were scattered in a tray, and a computer screen displayed confusing graphs. Ji-yeong cleared space on the counter by pushing a few glove boxes aside, not caring about the mess she was making.

“Sorry for the mess,” she said distractedly, grabbing a small vial with a clear solution and dripping a few drops onto a slide. “My boss is always scolding me for this, but I always end up wasting more time trying to remember where I put things, so… this works for me.”

Gi-hun watched the way she handled the equipment—her movements quick, yet clumsy. It was clear she knew what she was doing, but her mind seemed to jump from one thought to another. He crossed his arms, frowning.

“How much is this going to cost?” He asked. Not that it mattered much at the moment—he’d pay whatever was necessary—but the eccentric girl didn’t seem remotely concerned about money.

“Nothing. I’m doing it for free.” She said, taking some test tubes from a shelf and placing them on the table.

“What? Why would you do that?” He wasn’t born yesterday, if there was one thing he had learned, it was that nothing in life came for free. This was starting to feel suspicious. “Who are you?”

Ji-yeong paused for a moment, blinking as if she had only just realized the question. She gave a small smile before returning to the genetic material. “I thought you read my badge! I’m Ji-yeong. And… well, let’s just say I’m doing you a favor.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow. “A favor?”

She giggled and leaned forward as if about to share a secret. “You know Kang Sae-byeok, right?”

The name made Gi-hun instantly alert. Sae-byeok—the little thief.

“I know her.” He said cautiously. “But what does she have to do with this?”

Ji-yeong smiled and raised an eyebrow, showing the lock screen of her phone, where the two of them were hugging. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Gi-hun blinked a few times, processing the information. “You…” He stopped himself, unsure of what to say. “You’re dating her? But… you work for the police, and she steals from people.”

“So you do know her.” She said, shrugging and laughing. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Despite everything, Gi-hun let out a short laugh, feeling a small weight lift from his chest for the first time in hours. Ji-yeong returned her focus to the work, analyzing the sample with sharp, attentive eyes.

“She knew you had some involvement with the police and asked me about you,” Ji-yeong continued. “I told her I didn’t know you personally, but that you were involved in some serial killer case or something like that. She said she’d stole something really important from you, and that if you ever needed anything, I should help you. I didn’t think the opportunity would actually come, but… here I am.”

Gi-hun felt a tight knot form in his throat. With every passing second, the feeling of helplessness tried to consume him, but somehow, this gave him a spark of hope. The kindness he had shown Sae-byeok that day was finally coming back to him—in a way those 4 million won never could. Someone was willing to risk something for him. For Ga-yeong.

“I’ll do my best to find something useful,” Ji-yeong said, not taking her eyes off the microscope. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get any results.”

She motioned with her hand, as if asking for his phone. Gi-hun handed it over immediately, and for someone who seemed so clumsy, she managed to enter her number without even needing to look away.

He nodded, feeling a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders. “Thank you… really.”

She gave a lopsided smile and shook her head. “Don’t thank me yet. This might lead nowhere, especially if the DNA isn’t in the database. So, wish me luck.”

With that, Gi-hun turned and left the room, feeling a thread of optimism he hadn’t felt in a long time. Sure, it might fail—but maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance to save his daughter.

Gi-hun returned home feeling the weight of every step he took. The journey back had been silent, and now, as he stepped through the door, the emptiness of the place wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket. No-eul was no longer there. No sign of her, nor of the constant surveillance that had shadowed him until then. For the first time in a long time, he was truly alone.

The house was submerged in shadows, only the dim glow from the street filtering through the half-drawn curtains. The scent of dried blood and filth still lingered in the air, mixed with the dust and faint mildew that had long settled into the walls. He walked slowly through the living room, his eyes drifting over the broken coffee table and fragmented memories. His gaze landed on the couch, and for a moment, he saw something that wasn’t really there: Ga-yeong, tiny and wrapped in a blanket, watching cartoons. He remembered how she used to cling to his arm, forcing him to watch with her, even when he pretended, he didn’t want to. But deep down, he had loved those moments.

He closed his eyes, but the memory didn’t fade. In his mind, she was there again, giggling as she doodled on a piece of paper. “Look, Daddy! Do you think I’m good at this?” And he always answered the same way: “You’re amazing, Ga-yeong. You’ll be better than any artist out there.” But now, all that was left was an agonizing silence.

The insistent ringing of his phone snapped him out of the daydream. He picked it up reluctantly and saw Eun-ji’s name on the screen. His stomach turned. She never called—never. And yet, he knew exactly why she was calling. His thumb hovered over the answer button, but instead, he let the call go to voicemail. A moment later, the notification for a voice message appeared. He hesitated for a second, then hit play.

Her voice trembled, laced with panic.

“Gi-hun! For God's sake, where is Ga-yeong?! She didn’t call me to say she arrived, and she’s not answering her phone. I’ve tried so many times and nothing! You know something, don’t you? Answer me! Call me back! If something happens to my daughter...” Her voice cracked into a choked sob before the recording ended.

Gi-hun stood there, clutching the phone like it was unbearably heavy. His chest ached, as if something inside was crushing him. Guilt slammed into him like a punch. He deserved all of this. Eun-ji’s disdain, the silent hatred she held for him. And worse, he deserved the pain he was feeling. If anyone should be in that dark, unknown place—being threatened—it should be him. Not Ga-yeong. Never her.

His thoughts darkened further. Why hadn’t The Taker taken him? Why his daughter? What did that bastard want with her? If he wanted to punish him, to make him suffer, then he should’ve taken the right person. Him. Gi-hun shut his eyes, trying to block the spiral of thoughts, but the helplessness was eating him alive. What if he never saw her again? What if all he had left were memories—those tiny, precious moments from a time that now felt so distant and unreachable?

The room seemed smaller, more suffocating. He needed to do something—anything. But all he could do was wait. That cursed, torturous wait.

Exhausted, his body finally gave in to the weight of fatigue. Gi-hun collapsed onto the couch without even changing his clothes, and before he realized it, his eyes closed. The oppressive air of the room no longer even bothered him as he was pulled into a heavy sleep.

The phone buzzed on the side table, abruptly waking him. He opened his eyes with difficulty, his mind still clouded, but the glowing screen in the darkness caught his attention. He picked up the phone and saw Ji-yeong’s name flashing on the display.

He was instantly awake.

He answered immediately, heart pounding.

“Gi-hun, I got the results. You might want to sit down for this.”

He dropped onto the couch, already feeling his body wake up with a jolt of adrenaline. “Just tell me. What did you find?”

Ji-yeong sighed before speaking, as if she were bracing herself to drop a bomb.

“The hair belongs to a police department employee. Gong Yoo, apparently, he is from the blood analysis sector. Do you know him?”

The name made every muscle in Gi-hun’s body tense. He knew Gong Yoo. That strange guy who had always given him chills, like there was something dark behind that cold, professional stare. From the very first moment, he’d felt something was deeply wrong with him. And now, it all made sense.

"Thank you very much Ji-yeong, but I have to go now."

"No problem, I hope it was helpful." Gi-hun was grateful for her lack of questions—or interest—in knowing the reason behind it.

His heart was racing. He had already suspected The Taker might be someone within the police force. It made sense, considering how well the killer managed to stay ahead of the investigation. But now he had a name. A face. He’d always thought there was something off about the man, and now, finally, he had a lead. Well—not quite proof. Not yet.

Without a second thought, he dialed In-ho. The phone rang three times before the detective’s sleepy voice answered.

“Gi-hun? What is it?”

“In-ho, I need to know something. Was Gong Yoo at my house the day those three men were murdered?”

There was a pause at the other end. Then, the answer came, sharp and direct:

“No. He wasn’t assigned to that crime scene.”

Gi-hun’s world seemed to freeze for a moment. His fingers clenched around the phone, his eyes wide, staring into nothing. That was it. The confirmation of his suspicion. The Taker had been right under the police’s nose this entire time. If he hadn't been there. Nothing justifies a strand of his hair appearing like that in his bathroom. Unless he was the one who killed those men.

Without giving In-ho a chance to say anything else, he hung up before the detective could ask any questions. He knew that if he gave away any details, In-ho would try to stop him. Given the urgency of the situation, the detective would probably reach the same conclusion soon enough. But he didn’t have time to wait. He would apologize later—right now, this was his fight.

His daughter was out there, in the hands of a monster, and he wouldn’t let anyone stand in his way.

This was between him and The Taker.

And he would do whatever it took to bring Ga-yeong back.

Having a face and a name, Gi-hun thought it would be relatively easy to find Gong Yoo’s whereabouts.

He was wrong.

With a single goal in mind, Gi-hun gathered everything he needed.

The kitchen knife slid into the coat pocket; the one-shot experimental taser was secured in a makeshift holster inside his jacket; and the police tracking belt, which he took reluctantly. He didn’t want help. This was something he needed to resolve on his own. But if things got out of control, he’d have one last resort.

He headed to Gong Yoo’s address, provided by Dae-ho — but not without a price. It took long minutes of insistence and a fair amount of probing to get the information. The kid hesitated, but gave in, maybe out of pity, and with the promise that he wouldn’t tell the others.

When he arrived at the apartment, he knocked on the door firmly. Waited. Nothing. Knocked again, this time harder. The silence from the other side of the corridor rang louder than it should have at that hour of the night. He tried the doorknob, only to confirm the obvious: locked.

He looked around, trying to detect any suspicious movement in the dimly lit hallways. Nothing but the buzz of flickering fluorescent lights about to die.

It seemed like a modest place for someone with so much money to spend. But it probably contributed to the disguise. The fact that he managed to sneak around for five years right under the noses of the officers investigating him was surprising in itself. Not that Gi-hun was going to give him credit for it — obviously not.

Grinding his teeth, he decided to ask the neighbors. He rang the doorbell of the apartment next door. An elderly woman opened just a crack in the door, small suspicious eyes peeking through the security chain.

“The man who lives here… Have you seen him today?” Gi-hun asked, trying to sound composed.

She frowned.

“Haven’t seen him in days. He works for the police, right? They disappear without notice sometimes.”

The answer made his stomach turn. He thanked her and moved on to the other apartments, but no one had concrete information. Some didn’t even know who Gong Yoo was. A little too convenient of a disappearance.

Still, he needed more certainty before being convinced. He went to the police department where the man works. Even in the early morning hours, the building still had some movement — agents finishing their shifts and others arriving. He asked everyone he came across, described the analyst’s face, forced his voice to sound casual.

The responses were variations of the same thing:

“Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

“I think he left early.”

“Gong Yoo? He’s been acting weird lately… maybe more than usual. Why?”

With every vague answer, Gi-hun felt his chest tighten. The search had already stretched on for nearly an hour, and the lack of concrete responses only made him doubt even more.

He leaned against a wall, rubbing his face hard. He needed to think. Think like a detective would. Like In-ho would. He needed to find a pattern.

Remembering the meeting they had—before the discovery of the kidnapping and all the chaos that followed—a piece of information caught his attention. Jun-ho had mentioned that the killer must have some sort of space to store the blood he collected. A wide, hidden, abandoned place. Something like a warehouse… an abandoned house…

The idea hit him like a jolt. His old school. The decaying building he’d visited days ago, where he’d felt that someone had been there recently. How all the locked doors and boarded-up windows didn’t seem suspicious at the time but now made perfect sense.

His heart sped up.

It was a shot in the dark, but it fit with what The Taker needed.

And if there was any place where he would keep Ga-yeong, it would be in that hideout. And he would find her, one way or another.

Gi-hun’s car sped down the deserted road, the headlights cutting through the darkness of the early morning. The silence should have been comforting, but it only amplified the weight in his chest. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel, a vain attempt to ease the anxiety building inside him.

The phone vibrated on the console. Once again, In-ho’s name lit up on the screen. He knew exactly what his boyfriend would say: "Where are you?", "Why didn’t you pick up earlier?", "Are you okay?" He didn’t want to hear any of those questions. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the phone and, without hesitation, turned it off completely.

When he reached the school, he slowed down and stopped in front of the rusted iron gate. The place looked even more sinister under the pale moonlight. The cold breeze made the dead trees whisper, and the swings on the playground creaked with the wind’s soft movement. Gi-hun stepped out of the car, his feet crunching small stones and dry leaves as he moved forward.

Each step echoed too loudly in the abandoned space. With a sharp gaze, he scanned the scene around him. The playground, the old court, and the worn-down building façade. Everything was there, untouched, and yet… something felt off. That uncomfortable feeling that made his skin crawl when he’d been there before returned with full force. Someone had definitely been there recently.

Cautiously, he climbed the steps to the main entrance. Years of neglect had left their mark: cracks in the walls, peeling paint, the distinct smell of mold and rotting wood. Taking a breath, he reached for the doorknob, expecting it to be locked like before.

But it wasn’t.

The door creaked open, revealing the thick darkness inside. The air within was dense and stifling, filled with dust and memories of a distant past. His heart pounded harder. Every instinct screamed at him not to take another step, but he didn’t retreat. He couldn’t. He adjusted the knife in his pocket and moved forward.

The only light that entered came through the broken slats in the walls, letting moonlight in and casting distorted shadows on the graffiti-covered walls. The echo of his own footsteps filled the empty corridors. Gi-hun kept his breathing steady, alert for any sound that might break the oppressive silence.

When he reached the center of the main hall, he expected more darkness. But one detail made his blood run cold.

Beneath the only working bulb in the entire building stood a figure. Tall, imposing, dressed in a sharply tailored suit covered by a light, transparent raincoat. The dim light highlighted the sharp contours of his face, the neutral expression—almost amused. Gong Yoo.

Gi-hun froze. His body tensed, fingers trembling slightly beside his coat. His throat went dry. It was the same man he’d met weeks ago at the station, but under that stark white light, he could see his true form.

Gong Yoo slowly turned to face him. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips—cold, calculated, terrifying. As if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"You took your time, Gi-hun." he said, his voice slicing through the silence like a sharp blade. "We were just about to begin."

Chapter Text

"It was you." Gi-hun whispered, his voice low and hoarse, but with the weight of an accusation that didn't need repeating. And yet, he was certain that Gong Yoo had heard every syllable. "All this time, it was you..."

Still partially shrouded in shadows, Gi-hun felt rooted to the ground. Every inch of his body screamed to flee, but his heart stubbornly kept him there. His eyes followed Gong Yoo's figure, who, without haste, began to move in circles around him. His steps were almost silent, but the tension he left in his wake was deafening. It was as if he were circling his prey, toying with it before the final attack.

The entire room seemed to hold its breath along with him. There was no sound, not even the wind passing through the cracks of the old schoolhouse. And that worried him more than any noise. Where was Ga-yeong? Was she here? Was she alive?

Gong Yoo said nothing. His silence was cruel. Before completing the circle, he stopped—directly behind Gi-hun. Far enough not to touch him, but close enough to make him feel the weight of his presence. Gi-hun turned slowly, like someone refusing to turn their back on a predator, and saw the silhouette stretch towards the door he had entered through. With a simple gesture, Gong Yoo closed it.

The dry sound of the wood meeting the jamb echoed too loudly in the hollow space. A click. A sentence.

The hairs on the back of Gi-hun's neck stood on end. It was as if he had just entered the lion's den, and worse: the lion had locked the door. He took a deep breath. He maintained his posture. He couldn't show weakness—not now.

His eyes scanned the room, looking for escape routes, any detail he could use to his advantage. The windows were covered with black cloths—thick, tightly fastened—and the only source of light was the old lamp hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, as if even the air inside was restless. No emergency exit, no weapon in sight. Except for the knife in his pocket and the taser hidden under his jacket.

When he realized it, Gong Yoo was back in the center of the room, under the light, like an actor positioned for the final act. His smile was a white gash in the dimness.

"You know..." His voice sounded unexpectedly, so clear and loud that it reverberated through the dirty walls. Gi-hun shuddered, feeling his heart leap. "I was worried it would take you too long to find my hiding place. I am a patient man, Gi-hun, but in a few more hours... I would have had to send proof of life."

Gong Yoo's right hand, previously hidden, slowly emerged from behind his back. On the tips of his fingers, a pair of black pliers, large and menacing. He opened and closed them slowly, making a metallic sound that cut through the silence like a blade. Gi-hun understood.

Proof of life.

"WHERE IS SHE?!"—he shouted, his throat dry and raw, the cry coming from a place deeper than any other emotion: pure despair.

"Calm down." Gong Yoo replied with a disturbing calmness, placing the pliers on a wooden table covered with a thin layer of dust. "I'm sorry to tell you, but you're not in a position to make demands, Mr. Seong... or can I call you Gi-hun?"

The name left his lips like an intimate taunt. Gi-hun clenched his fists tightly, his eyes flashing. But he didn't answer. Provoking him would be playing his game—and he couldn't afford that.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Gi-hun. You'll see her soon." He spoke as if announcing the arrival of a guest at a dinner party, with satisfaction and theatricality. "But before that... I must ask. Did you like the little gift I sent to your house?"

Gi-hun's mind reeled. The bodies? The money? Both? It didn't matter, his answer would be the same.

"Why?" The question came out ragged, laden with exhaustion and hatred. He didn't want any more riddles. He wanted answers. He needed them to not go insane.

"Why..." Gong Yoo repeated, making a face of false reflection. "Why not?"

Gi-hun felt his stomach churn. That answer... that tone.

"But... what about the money? What did it mean?"

"The money?" Gong Yoo gave a short, empty laugh. "That was just a pretext. Bait. What I do, Gi-hun, is expose people. Reveal what they truly are when they think no one is watching."

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a test tube, twirling it between his fingers. The light passed through it, revealing the thick, red liquid.

"Blood." He said, unhurriedly. "So essential... and yet, so avoided. So feared. People forget it's the only thing that keeps us alive. I just... remind them of that."

His speech was staged, as if he were the protagonist of a carefully rehearsed monologue. His eyes, however, were fixed on Gi-hun—attentive, hungry.

"But you understand, don't you?" he asked, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial tone.

"What?" Gi-hun's voice came out shaky.

"You saw... that day. The miracle. The instant when life drains from a body and blood takes the place of the soul. It's art, Gi-hun. It's pure."

Gi-hun felt the taste of vomit rise in his throat. The memory of that man dying in his arms, the blood spreading on the cold floor... and the look. The empty look.

Gong Yoo smiled once more, as if he had shared a deep secret. A secret between artists.

"You saw the shape of the blood spurt that an axe wound can cause. You felt the warm temperature with which blood circulates inside our body and how quickly it cools when it touches the air. You tasted the metallic and sticky taste that only freshly spilled blood can offer. You saw all that... so you must understand what I'm talking about."

Insane. This guy was completely insane.

Gi-hun stared at him with a stunned look, his chest rising and falling with irregular breaths, as if each word that came out of Gong Yoo's mouth had the power to compress the air around him even more. This was no longer just perversion—it was morbid art. A ritualistic fascination that Gi-hun could never comprehend. The Taker's obsession with blood had always been present, subtly imprinted on the crime scenes and the empty look in the photos of the bodies. But hearing that speech, that grotesque and almost reverent analysis, made it clear that he delved deep, to the very bottom of the abyss.

And the fact that he thought Gi-hun could understand that... was not only repulsive, but almost a personal offense.

"Different types of weapons produce distinct wounds, which in itself alters the pattern with which blood is expelled from the body. This makes my work not only more dynamic and challenging, but... intriguing."

His voice came out in an almost dreamy tone, like someone describing a work of art in a museum. He spoke as if he were not addressing a victim—but a colleague, a privileged spectator of the same pathology.

Gi-hun kept his gaze fixed, every muscle in his body tensed, the knife still stuck in his waistband, his thumb itching to pull it out. His throat was dry, his stomach churning. Each new word sounded like a hammer blow inside his head.

"Thanks to my position in the police force, I have the perfect excuse to indulge my hobby... and still benefit from it indirectly." He smiled, and the curve of his lips contained more sickness than a thousand stacked corpses. "I think you'd like to know that I reviewed the photos I took that day for a very, very long time."

The meaning of that smile did not go unnoticed. There was something sickly in Gong Yoo's eyes—an inhuman gleam, something that vibrated between ecstasy and madness. That made a knot of dread form in the pit of Gi-hun's stomach, expanding like slow poison. The taste of bile was already rising in his throat when the man opened the test tube, bringing the substance to his mouth theatrically, as if toasting to that moment.

He swallowed it all without hesitation.

Gi-hun felt his vision spin briefly. For a moment, so nauseous, he actually considered vomiting.

"It was intoxicating, the effect those images had on me. If it hadn't been mentioned in the report, no one could ever say those stains were made by an axe." He licked his lips like an animal savoring its prey. "You took the only concrete evidence with you. But the image... remained. Engraved. Imprinted on my memory like a masterpiece."

He paused, savoring the silence with the same pleasure he had savored the liquid in the tube. "And I wasn't lying when I said I would have done anything to have taken a picture."

Then he took a step forward.

Gi-hun, in an automatic reflex, recoiled.

Fear now manifested physically—his spine throbbed, sweat ran down his back, cold and slippery. His brain screamed to run, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not without Ga-yeong.

His fist clenched around the knife. Quick, precise. He pointed the blade at Gong Yoo's chest.

The other man calmly raised his hands, a symbolic gesture of surrender, but his eyes said it all. There was no fear. None. Only the purest psychotic satisfaction. The adrenaline of seeing Gi-hun cornered seemed to fuel his excitement.

"You know... as much as I quite like knives, today I desire something different."

His hand plunged inside his suit jacket, and Gi-hun's heart skipped a beat.

When the gun appeared, the world stopped.

It was a pistol, gleaming and already cocked. Gong Yoo raised it slowly, with the coldness of someone who already knew he had won, aiming directly between Gi-hun's eyes.

Gi-hun gritted his teeth, cursing himself. It was obvious. Of course he would be armed. But The Taker had never used firearms before. He was the kind of psychopath who preferred more intimate, more visceral methods. And it was precisely that reputation that made him underestimate the situation.

Now, with a knife against a gun, he was at his mercy.

"I never really liked stains made by guns. They're... predictable. One shot and that's it, it's done. Too fast. No poetry." Gong Yoo spoke as he slid his finger gently along the gun's body, almost as if caressing it. "I always preferred alternative instruments. Knives, hammers, axes, pruning shears..." His eyes narrowed. "But over time... I've learned to appreciate exceptions."

Gi-hun tried to think. Try something.

Maybe activate the button on his belt and send the signal to the task force. He just needed a second, a discreet movement. If he could buy some time...

But he still didn't know where Ga-yeong was. He needed to make sure she was alive, safe, before doing anything rash.

"You don't even need to bother."

The voice cut through his thoughts like a razor.

Gi-hun raised his eyes—Gong Yoo wasn't looking directly at him, but at his belt.

"I broke the tracking mechanism."

The world went silent for a second.

Gi-hun's hand wavered.

What...? How?

The memory came like a cruel flash: he had left the belt lying in the bathroom while he was at Gong Yoo's house. He hadn't needed to use it before, so he hadn't even noticed it was damaged. The despair that washed over him now was real, suffocating, thick as smoke. He was cornered. Alone. At his mercy.

But even with a gun pointed at his face, he couldn't give in. He still needed to find her. He needed to fight.

"What do you want from me?" he shouted, his voice wavering between anger and panic. "Why did you kidnap my daughter?"

The words came out raw, spat out with all the contained fury in his chest. He was trembling. But not from fear of death. It was fear of what might happen to her—fear of being too late.

Gong Yoo just smiled. Slowly. Deeply.

As if he had been waiting for exactly that question.

"Kidnap? Oh, no. That was just a pretext. I mean... bait, to bring you here."

The bastard even had the audacity to laugh—a low, dry laugh that reverberated like nails being dragged across rusty metal. As if taking someone from their home, snatching a child from her safe environment and carrying her off to who-knows-where didn't fit the concept of kidnapping.

Gi-hun almost ground his teeth until they broke.

"However, since you're both here..." Gong Yoo tilted his head, and his smile widened with that sickly calm. "I think we can have a little fun."

With slow steps, Gong Yoo began to retreat. The gun remained steady, pointed, like a natural extension of his arm, while his eyes—those opaque and unfathomable windows—didn't blink. He moved with the mastery of someone who had already foreseen every reaction, every beat of his victim's heart.

As he approached an old, worm-eaten wooden door, with marks of dampness and rust on the hinges, he pushed it open forcefully, revealing a darkness inside that seemed to absorb all the surrounding light. The wood groaned as if protesting, but Gong Yoo didn't hesitate—he rummaged for something in the gloom, disappearing for a few seconds that stretched like elastics about to snap.

Gi-hun didn't move. He didn't dare.

Even without seeing clearly, he could distinguish the outline of the silhouette moving inside—and he was sure that, in the same way, Gong Yoo would be able to perceive any movement of his. They were trapped in a silent game of cat and mouse, and a single false step could cost more than his life.

Then came the sound.

Dragging. Dense. Inhuman.

Something—someone—was being pulled across the floor.

Gi-hun's heart clenched even before he saw what it was.

And then, finally, the light reached...

"GA-YEONG!"

The cry came out unfiltered, tearing his throat with the desperation of a man about to explode. His daughter, small, fragile, was being dragged like a bag of garbage. Her hair disheveled, her clothes crumpled. Her body limp.

Too limp.

He took a step, driven by pure instinct—but the sharp sound of the gun's hammer being cocked paralyzed everything.

The click wasn't loud. But it was enough to sound like a death sentence.

Paralyzed, Gi-hun felt his blood freeze in his veins.

His eyes scanned his daughter's body, searching for any sign of blood, broken bones, cuts.

Nothing.

But she was unconscious, with a cloth tied around her mouth, her breathing so faint that he could barely notice the rise and fall of her chest. It was like watching the wick of a candle about to go out—and not being able to do absolutely anything.

The urge to cry came with force, like a tidal wave.

But he swallowed it dry.

Tears wouldn't save her. Tears wouldn't stop a monster.

Gong Yoo carelessly dropped her on the floor, like someone getting rid of an inconvenient weight. And then, with the same hand that held the gun, he revealed what he had in the other.

Gi-hun saw the cards. Red and blue.

Ddakji.

Those childish, square pieces, folded from sturdy paper, seemed so harmless in any other context. But now... now, in Gong Yoo's hands, they seemed more threatening than the gun itself.

He raised the cards with an almost theatrical gesture, his fingers toying with the paper like a magician about to reveal his final trick.

His gaze said it all.

The tension between them was a rope stretched to its limit. And Gong Yoo, with a slight smile on his lips, asked the question as if they were in a park, about to play:

"So... are you ready to begin?"

"Kang Cheol, go brush your teeth and go to sleep!"

The firm voice echoed through the small apartment, muffling the low sound of the television playing in the background. The boy laughed loudly, his light footsteps echoing against the wooden floor as he fled from his older sister, agilely dodging the worn furniture and hiding, with little subtlety, behind the time-stained sofa.

He tried to contain his laughter, hiding his face with his hands as if that were enough to mask his presence. Small puffs escaped his lips, betraying his false tranquility. But as soon as he felt a pair of arms lift him by the armpits, suddenly, he let out a dramatic cry of defeat, swinging his legs in the air.

"Don't complain. Just go to the bathroom, it's late."

Sae-byeok said, now with a harder seriousness, trying to maintain the posture of a responsible sister.

Cheol huffed theatrically, but as soon as he was put on the ground, he marched to the bathroom with wounded pride. The sound of the door closing softly brought a brief silence to the room.

"Wow," Ji-yeong commented, sitting on the sofa, with a mischievous little smile. "You're an example of maternal tenderness."

"Shut up," Sae-byeok replied with a tired sigh, but soon let herself fall next to her girlfriend, sinking into the sofa that was too small for two people. The scratched fabric gave way under their weight, but it was still the best spot in the room to watch television—so, they made it work.

The apartment was modest, a narrow room with inherited or thrift store furniture, illuminated by a weak yellow light that hung from the ceiling. The walls carried the smell of old coffee and the memory of many sleepless nights. Three people lived there: Ji-yeong, who paid for almost everything with her salary as a forensic specialist; Sae-byeok, who helped as she could; and little Cheol, who made everything more chaotic—and more alive.

Soon, the boy reappeared in the room just to say goodnight, and was answered with two "goodnights"—one warm, the other monotonous.

"I swear I don't understand how you can seem so cheerful all the time..." Sae-byeok murmured, resting her head on the back of the sofa as soon as Cheol's bedroom door closed.

"And I don't understand how you can always seem so grumpy," Ji-yeong retorted, smiling. "I think we're both prodigies."

Sae-byeok let out a laugh through her nose, subtle but genuine. This made Ji-yeong's smile widen even more.

"See? You can smile when you want to."

"Urgh... stop it," she grumbled, trying to hide the slight blush on her cheeks. She turned her eyes to the television, but realized that nothing on it made sense. The words and images mixed in a jumble of noise.

"Can't we just sleep? I'm exhausted."

"I wish," Ji-yeong replied with a heavy sigh. "I drank three cups of coffee just to finish my last job and now I'm here, wide-eyed and my heart beating like a drum."

"Three cups?" Sae-byeok raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "Who in their right mind asked you for an urgent job at this hour?"

"Someone you know, actually. A certain Seong Gi-hun." She nudged her girlfriend with her elbow, teasing.

Sae-byeok straightened up immediately, moving from her almost lying position. "Gi-hun? What did he want?"

"Nothing out of this world. Just a DNA analysis. But he seemed a bit nervous, so I didn't ask much. And since you told me to help him if he ever needed it..." Ji-yeong shrugged with feigned innocence. "I did my good deed."

Sae-byeok frowned, thoughtful. "Strange. I saw him earlier today and... I don't know, he seemed normal. A bit more serious, maybe. But I didn't think it was anything."

"Well, he seemed tense to me." Ji-yeong stretched her legs on the sofa, pulling a thin blanket to cover them both. "He only said one vague sentence before leaving."

"What kind of sentence?"

"I don't quite remember... But it was something like, 'Would you die for money?'"

Sae-byeok was silent for a few seconds, absorbing the question. "Huh. Didn't expect that."

"Me neither. I thought it would be something more... revealing." Ji-yeong pouted with comical disappointment. "Super anticlimactic."

"It might sound silly, but it seemed personal to him. Like he was really asking, not just doing cheap philosophy."

"It's the million-dollar question," Ji-yeong laughed. "And what did you answer, all wise?"

"I said yes."

"Seriously? Just like that, without thinking twice?"

"Yes. Then I added that there are things worth dying for."

She cast an almost involuntary glance at Cheol's closed bedroom door, and Ji-yeong noticed immediately.

"Aww... my little love, so cute." Ji-yeong smiled and squeezed the other's cheek, who quickly pushed her hand away with a muffled grunt.

"You're impossible."

"And you know how to be sweet when you want to."

Before Sae-byeok could retort, Ji-yeong stole a quick, light kiss, full of affection. The two snuggled back onto the cramped sofa, embraced under the thin blanket, listening to the distant sound of cars passing on the street below the window.

For a while, silence reigned.

"I just... hope nothing happened," Sae-byeok murmured, with Ji-yeong's head resting on her chest.

"To whom?"

"Gi-hun."

"Hm? Why that thought now?" Ji-yeong asked, settling more comfortably against her girlfriend's warm body.

"I don't know. Something about the way he reacted to my answer. It was strange. Like the question wasn't theoretical for him."

"Maybe he's just going through a phase. You know how it is... people always overthink things."

"Maybe..." Sae-byeok gently squeezed her girlfriend's shoulders. "I just don't like thinking about this idea of dying."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure everything is fine." Ji-yeong yawned, finally showing the first signs of tiredness.

Sae-byeok was silent for another moment, watching her girlfriend's eyes slowly close.

"Yeah... maybe you're right."

"So... are you ready to begin?" Gong Yoo's question came with the casual tone of someone inviting someone over for dinner, not for a deadly game. He smiled with the same calmness of a satisfied host, but there was something sharp in that smile, like the blade of a knife disguised in elegance. The cold light from the ceiling illuminated his face with an icy glow, making everything more unreal.

Gi-hun kept his fingers dug into the knife handle, as if it were the only anchor preventing him from sinking into this madness. His eyes, however, did not fix on his opponent. They slid from the ddakjis arranged on the table—red and blue, seemingly harmless—to the still figure of his daughter.

Ga-yeong lay tied up in a corner, her head lolling, her eyes closed, the gag suffocating even hope. In that pale light, the paper squares seemed stained with invisible blood. The atmosphere was permeated with tension and fear, as if the very air had become dense and unbreathable.

"Explain." It was all he could manage to say, his voice hoarse, scratching his throat as it came out. Each syllable carried anger, disbelief, and despair.

Gong Yoo took a deep breath like an actor about to go on stage. With the air of someone who completely dominates the scene, he dropped the ddakjis onto the concrete table, next to a revolver and a pair of pliers, and crossed his arms with a cold and dangerous charm.

"It's simple, Gi-hun. Each round, one of us plays the ddakji. If the paper flips, it's a point. Whoever scores has the right to pull the trigger." He picked up the gun with the familiarity of someone who had done this dozens of times, spinning the empty cylinder with a mechanical click that echoed off the walls. "Revolver. Six chambers. One bullet. With each round, the chance increases. One in six. Two in six. And so on..."

With a final click, he closed the cylinder and pointed it at Gi-hun's daughter with a chilling calmness. "If you flip the ddakji, you can aim at me. Try to kill the monster that destroyed your life. But if I flip it... I pull the trigger on her." The horror of the proposal took concrete form. It was simple. It was insane. It was irreversible.

Gi-hun felt his stomach churn, as if something putrid had come loose inside him. His brain screamed that it didn't make sense, that it was too absurd to be real. But there, in front of the gagged Ga-yeong and Gong Yoo smiling as if proposing a board game, there was no room for doubt.

"If you kill me," Gong Yoo continued naturally, "you two get out of here. Free. Unharmed. But... if I win, and she dies... you surrender. Completely. Body and soul. My muse. My experiment. My masterpiece."

"You're sick," Gi-hun spat out, his eyes blazing, his voice trembling with contained rage.

"And you're unpredictable. Just the way I like it." Gong Yoo laughed, pushing the ddakjis in his direction. "Let's see if luck is on your side today, Mr. Seong."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The warehouse seemed to hold its breath along with them. Gi-hun stared at the ddakjis, then at his daughter, then at the gun. The knife he held now seemed useless in the face of the theater of cruelty he had been dragged into. There was no choice. There was no escape. All that remained was to play.

With trembling fingers, he picked up the blue ddakji. The texture of the folded paper seemed imbued with the madness that hung in the air. He threw it forcefully. The sound of the impact was dry, muffled by the concrete of the table. The red spun... and stopped. It didn't flip. Gi-hun's heart beat so loudly it felt like it wanted to burst out of his throat.

Gong Yoo's laughter cut through the silence like a razor. With an expression of someone immensely amused, he picked up his own red ddakji and threw it with mastery. The blue spun... and flipped. Gi-hun lunged forward in a desperate reflex, as if he could prevent the inevitable.

Gong Yoo was already holding the gun. He spun the cylinder with a firm movement, closed it with a click, and pointed it at Ga-yeong's head. His finger touched the trigger. "No..." Gi-hun murmured, his voice choked.

CLICK. Nothing.

Ga-yeong was still breathing.

A sigh escaped Gi-hun's chest before he could contain it. Gong Yoo feigned disappointment, but his eyes gleamed with a perverse enthusiasm. "Looks like luck is on your side... for now."

This time, Gi-hun closed his eyes for a second, seeking focus. When he opened them, there was determination. He threw the ddakji with all the accumulated force and frustration. The paper hit. And flipped. Gong Yoo raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Well, look at that... congratulations."

Gi-hun took the gun with sweaty hands. The metal seemed to mock him. He took a deep breath, spun the cylinder, aimed at his enemy's eyes. He squeezed the trigger.

CLICK. Empty.

Gong Yoo roared with laughter. "That was a close one."

In the next play, Gong Yoo's red hit and flipped with precision. "She really is beautiful asleep, don't you think?" he commented casually, while spinning the cylinder again. The click sounded louder. He pointed at Ga-yeong. Gi-hun felt his knees weaken. Once more, the trigger was pressed.

CLICK.

Still nothing.

Sweat trickled down Gi-hun's temples. With each empty click, the tension increased. He knew the bullet was getting closer.

The blue flew through the air. It hit. It flipped. Gi-hun gripped the gun as if his life depended on it—and it did. He spun the cylinder, adjusted his aim. He took a deep breath.

CLICK.

The damn thing was still there. Hidden.

"It's getting more exciting, don't you think?" Gong Yoo commented with a falsely cheerful tone, while throwing his ddakji like an experienced artist. The paper hit. The blue flipped.

Gong Yoo spun the cylinder with a theatrical gesture. He pointed it at his daughter again. His eyes were different now. They shone like those of a child in front of their favorite toy.

His finger pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

Gi-hun almost collapsed with relief. But he knew—they all knew—that the next shot would be the last. Only one bullet remained. One last point. One last play.

The world stopped. Gong Yoo fell silent. Even he seemed to revere that moment.

Gi-hun threw the ddakji. The air grew thick. In his mind, images exploded: Ga-yeong, the blood, the axe, the police, the despair. The paper fell on the table.

It didn't flip.

"No..." He whispered, disbelieving.

Gong Yoo picked up the red one. His eyes were cold, like glass. He threw it.

It flipped.

The air was sucked out of the room. Gi-hun couldn't breathe.

Gong Yoo walked towards Ga-yeong with slow, ceremonial steps, like someone approaching an altar. Each footstep reverberated on the concrete like an omen. The muzzle of the revolver touched the girl's forehead with the delicacy of a death kiss. The cylinder was complete. The bullet, silent, rested in the chamber. Fate spun.

Gi-hun couldn't move. The scene looked like a macabre painting unfolding in real time.

Gong Yoo's finger began to move.

His body screamed to run, to shout, to beg—anything. But all he could do was tremble. He trembled with the certainty that he had lost. He trembled seeing his daughter still, vulnerable, at the mercy of a psychopath. He trembled because, somewhere deep inside, he knew Gong Yoo wasn't bluffing.

The killer licked his lips and whispered as if telling a secret:

"Time to close the show, Gi-hun."

He began to squeeze the trigger.

But at the exact moment the gun's hammer began to retract, Gi-hun screamed—a primal sound, coming from the depths of his soul—and threw himself with all his force upon him.

The world seemed to stop for a second.

Gong Yoo was hit with the impact of a derailed train. His body staggered, his aim went off.

BANG!

The shot echoed like thunder, the flash of the gunshot illuminating for a moment the faces distorted by hatred and tension. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, tearing a chunk of concrete violently, inches from Ga-yeong's head.

She was still alive. By a thread.

But now the gun was out of reach. And the two bodies collided with fury on the ground.

The fight had begun.

There was no technique. There were no words. Only instinct. Gi-hun roared, punching Gong Yoo's face with his clenched fists, even as blood began to spurt from his own knuckles. He dug his nails, bit, kicked, as if he wanted to tear the other man's flesh with his bare hands.

Gong Yoo laughed—laughed!—between blows, blood streaming from his mouth, dripping onto his starched collar. As if he were proud, as if he had been waiting for this moment. And soon he retaliated, shoving his thumb into Gi-hun's eyes, trying to blind his fury. The two rolled across the floor, knocking over chairs, kicking the wooden table, and pushing the ddakjis out of the way—now a grotesque symbol of the madness they were immersed in.

Gi-hun saw stars when his head hit the ground, but he didn't stop. He grabbed Gong Yoo's neck, squeezing hard, his fingers digging into the flesh like claws. Gong Yoo gasped for air, but found Gi-hun's knife on the floor and slashed his side in a quick movement.

The pain was searing. Gi-hun screamed, but didn't back down. Instead, he headbutted, wild, brutal, cracking Gong Yoo's lip and making him lose control for an instant.

The gun lay a few feet away, fallen under the dim light of a spotlight. Both saw it at the same time. But neither could move fast enough.

The rage was greater.

There, on the blood-stained concrete, with dirty hands, bruised bodies, and sanity hanging by a thread, the two men fought not only for survival, but for possession of something even more fragile: their very souls.

And Ga-yeong, now with her eyes half-closed, slowly began to awaken.

"Dad...?"

Both froze.

The trembling voice, low and confused. Ga-yeong.

She had awakened.

"Das...?" she repeated, trying to sit up, her eyes half-closed with drowsiness, seeing only blurs, broken lights, and the confusion around her. The cloth still hung loosely from her mouth. She coughed, choking. "What... is..."

"NO!" Gi-hun tried to shout, but it was too late.

The distraction was enough. Gong Yoo reacted like a snake. Gi-hun's head was slammed against the floor with a deafening thud, the pain exploding in the back of his neck like black fireworks. The world spun. He tasted the metallic tang of blood trickling from his mouth.

Above him, Gong Yoo breathed raggedly, his face dirty, stained with blood and sweat, his eyes wide, gleaming with twisted pleasure.

"That's it. That's the emotion I seek. The despair. The breaking. I could take a picture right now." He smiled, but it wasn't a human smile. "Did you know that, at the moment of death, the pupils dilate in a unique way? It's as if even the eyes are begging for more time."

He turned his face, looking at Ga-yeong. "And I so wanted to see that in her..."

"NO!" Gi-hun tried to move, but Gong Yoo held his body with inhuman strength.

"You think you're the hero of this story, Gi-hun. But you're just dancing to my soundtrack. You're here because I wanted you here. You arrived where I wanted you to arrive. And now..."

Gong Yoo reached inside his coat, searching for something. But Gi-hun, even dizzy, even staggering, even seeing double... remembered.

The taser.

Stored inside his own coat. Hidden. Small, but potent. Strong enough to take down a horse—or, hopefully, a human monster.

"...now," Gong Yoo continued, "you will become my masterpiece. My chaos. My eternal."

But Gi-hun no longer heard him. His fingers groped desperately inside his own coat, slipping on the fabric damp with sweat and blood, until...

There.

The handle. The rough texture of the plastic. It was there.

"You know what, Gong Yoo...?" Gi-hun whispered, his face contorted with pain.

Gong Yoo leaned in, curious.

"What?"

"You talk too much."

The crackle of the electric discharge filled the room like the roar of a bottled storm.

Gong Yoo arched his body. His muscles contracted like ropes about to snap, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping without uttering a sound—only the shock, the spasm, the brutal interruption of an overloaded system. The smell of ozone and burnt sweat spread.

He fell.

Like a puppet with its strings cut.

The facade of his twisted morality crumbling to the ground. The presence of money in his crimes only to mislead the police's gaze from what he truly enjoyed. The brutality, the violence, the blood. Gi-hun understood everything now, and at the same time understood nothing.

Gi-hun stood there for a few seconds, breathing heavily, the taser still trembling in his hand. His chest heaved, the world spinning, the silence returning to the corners of the room. Slowly, staggeringly, he crawled to Ga-yeong.

He knelt beside her, untying the knots with trembling fingers.

"Dad...?" she asked, her eyes full of confusion, pain, and now... hope.

"It's me." He hugged her, burying his face in her neck, feeling the warmth of her body, her weak but living breath. "It's okay now, my love... it's okay..."

Then, like an answer from the heavens, the sound of sirens began to echo from outside. Several vehicles. Brakes screeching. Doors slamming. Shouted orders. Footsteps approaching rapidly.

In-ho.

Gi-hun raised his eyes, still embracing his daughter, staring at the door from which they had come. The smoke from the shattered lamp still hung in the air, and the remains of the bloody roulette that had almost destroyed them remained there, like grotesque reminders of a night they would never forget.

But, for now, they were alive.

The door burst open with a bang, and soon several armed officers from head to toe flooded the premises. It was still dark outside, but the new source of light made Gi-hun's eyes squint, unaccustomed to it. When he opened them again, it was to notice that something – rather, someone – was right in front of him, blocking the uncomfortable layer of light from reaching his face.

Gi-hun blinked, dizzy and still panting from the fight of a few minutes ago, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and the high-pitched ringing in his ears barely leaving room for rationality. But the figure approached, knelt down, and removed the tactical mask in a swift movement.

"In-ho!", Gi-hun gasped, the name escaping his lips like a plea. The relief that ran through his body was immediate, making his tense muscles collapse in an involuntary tremor. More than the weapons, the bulletproof vests, or the police presence, it was In-ho's face that seemed to dissolve the darkness around him.

Without saying a word, In-ho pulled his boyfriend into a tight, urgent embrace, as if he needed his touch to make sure this wasn't a delusion. Gi-hun clung to him with equal desperation, his chest still heaving, his arms aching, but his mind finally allowing itself to fall into a moment of refuge.

Gi-hun had thought the detective would be angry with him. After hanging up on him and refusing to tell him where he was going, he thought he deserved to hear his harsh words. However, the pure and genuine emotion in his eyes was enough to make his heart melt.

"Thank God..." In-ho whispered. So low that Gi-hun almost didn't hear.

Ga-yeong, leaning against her father's shoulder, watched the scene with wide and confused eyes. Tears streamed silently down her face, her breathing shaky, still frightened. But even without fully understanding, she could see something in the eyes of the man who was hugging her father—a kind of raw, real devotion that softened something in her injured chest. She said nothing, but her eyes rested there, silently approving.

"Dad..." her voice came out low, but firm.

Gi-hun turned to her, his eyes shining, and In-ho helped them both to their feet. Gi-hun enveloped her in a protective hug, unable to stop repeating "I'm sorry," "it's okay now," "I'm here," in a trembling, almost inaudible whisper.

But the moment was interrupted by firm footsteps on the cracked concrete.

Another masked policeman approached Gong Yoo this time. Removing his mask in a movement similar to In-ho's, Jun-ho's face came into focus. It was clear that this was a scheme between the two brothers.

Jun-ho approached the fallen body, pulling out handcuffs with almost automatic precision. As he knelt to secure Gong Yoo's wrists, the latter suddenly opened his eyes, as if he had just been waiting for that moment. His eyes were glazed, but not empty—there was a frightening clarity there.

"You are under arrest for the kidnapping of Ga-yeong Seong, for the homicides in Seong Gi-hun's apartment, and for the murders committed under the alias of The Taker," Jun-ho said, reciting the crimes with professional coldness. "You have the right to remain silent..."

That's when Gong Yoo began to laugh.

First, softly. A hoarse sound, like the creaking of something breaking from within. Then, the laughter exploded in the room, echoing off the peeling walls, the dark corners, and through Gi-hun's chest like an invisible punch.

Jun-ho tried to restrain him, but he seemed to be laughing at his own arrest. There was no fear in his face. There was no defeat. There was only... amusement.

"Ahhh..." Gong Yoo gasped between one laugh and another, his head tilting slightly back. "This is all so... pathetic. And perfect. So... well-staged."

His eyes—two bright slits of something bordering on the mad and the prophetic—moved slowly until they locked onto Gi-hun. And there they remained.

Gi-hun stared back, a mixture of anger, relief, and confusion swirling inside him like ground glass.

Gong Yoo smiled, a bitter, chipped smile.

"Funny how... the pieces always fall into place, right?" he murmured, as if speaking to himself, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "As if someone had set up this game long before you even played your first coin..."

Gi-hun's heart skipped a beat. He frowned, instinctively looking at In-ho beside him—who watched silently, his face expressionless, his eyes fixed on his brother as the scene unfolded.

"Some stories already have the ending written, Gi-hun..." Gong Yoo continued, his voice fading into an almost tender tone, like a whispered secret. "You just haven't turned the right page yet."

The silence that followed was denser than the stuffy air in that place.

"Let's go." Jun-ho pulled Gong Yoo forcefully, with no patience for riddles. His body was dragged out the door, the sounds of the sirens outside mixing with the shuffling of feet, the crackling of radios, the muffled shouts of command.

But before disappearing completely, Gong Yoo turned his face once more, his eyes locked on Gi-hun as if wanting to tattoo something on his soul.

And his voice, hoarse, mocking, reverberated through the air:

"Just be careful... with who holds the pen."

And then he disappeared into the dark hallway, taking his laughter with him like a trail of poison.

Gi-hun remained standing, his arm still around his daughter's shoulders, but his mind already far away. The words hammered in his head, echoing in ways he couldn't decipher.

Like pieces of a puzzle that, suddenly, no longer seemed to fit the way he remembered.

Two months later

Morning light filtered through the white curtains of the apartment like gentle fingers, landing on the light wooden floor and the carefully arranged minimalist furniture. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the muffled sound of an electric kettle whistling in the background. The space—large, modern, silent—bore no resemblance to the small, stuffy studio where Gi-hun had lived before. This was In-ho's world. And now, it was his too.

In the open kitchen, Gi-hun wore an apron, his hair messy and his bare feet on the cool floor. He stirred a pan of scrambled eggs with a tired but genuine smile. One of those smiles that came from within and, lately, appeared more frequently.

"You're going to burn the toast again," In-ho said behind him, appearing with a mug in his hand and his dress shirt still unbuttoned. His voice was hoarse, newly awakened, and there was a calm humor there—the kind that only grows between people who know each other's silences.

Gi-hun turned slowly, raising an eyebrow. "The toast is under control. But if you're so worried, why don't you make it yourself?"

In-ho smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. "Because I like watching you try."

They looked at each other for a long, knowing moment, and then Gi-hun huffed with mock irritation, turning back to the stove.

From the next room, a younger voice called out:

"Dad? Is there any jam?"

Ga-yeong appeared at the door with tangled hair and oversized pajamas. There were still traces of sleep in her eyes, but also something Gi-hun hadn't seen there in a long time: security.

"In the fridge, bottom shelf," he replied, pointing with the wooden spoon. She walked across the kitchen with slow but steady steps—as if this apartment was hers now, too.

After a difficult—and long—conversation with Eun-ji, his daughter had finally been allowed to spend the holidays with her father. After the kidnapping incident, he had believed his ex-wife would never let him see Ga-yeong again, but surprisingly, she was the one who defended him during the incessant stream of insults her mother hurled over the phone. Choosing, of her own volition, to stay with Gi-hun and In-ho for a while.

Seeing her there, so close, so normal, still stirred something deep within Gi-hun. A knot in his chest. A tightness in his throat. Neither time nor laughter erased the marks left by the memory of captivity. They rarely commented on that day, but the scars were implicit. Sometimes she would wake up at night. Sometimes she would look at strangers on the street with a caution that made Gi-hun's heart clench. But... she was alive. She was with him. And she smiled when she took the jam.

That was enough.

"You're taking me to dance class today, right?" she asked, already sitting at the counter with a slice of toast.

Gi-hun nodded. "Of course. I'm all scheduled. I even thought about stopping by the bakery afterwards to buy that little cake you like."

She smiled. In-ho watched the exchange in silence, his eyes softer than Gi-hun was used to seeing. They were living a new routine—strange, but good. The kind of life Gi-hun never thought he would have. After years of debt, escape, fear, loneliness... there he was. With a warm kitchen, a laughing daughter, and a boyfriend who made too much coffee and complained about everything with an ironic glint in his eye.

And the strangest thing was that—despite everything—he was happy.

"I'm going to finalize the paperwork for my last case this week," In-ho said casually, sitting down at the table and unfolding the newspaper. "We can plan that trip to Busan for the holidays."

Gi-hun nodded, still stirring the eggs.

Two months earlier, he hadn't known if he would live long enough to see the next day. Now, they were talking about vacations. About normal life. As if everything were possible.

And yet...

Still, sometimes, when the shower water was too hot, or when a door slammed loudly, or when he dreamed of that laugh—"Just be careful with who holds the pen"—Gi-hun would find himself standing still. Quiet. Listening. Thinking.

He didn't talk about it with anyone. Not even with In-ho.

But the phrase echoed in unlikely moments, planted like a poisoned seed between his ribs.

On the surface, everything was peace. Balance. Love.

But Gi-hun knew—as someone who has been to the bottom knows—that calm sometimes precedes collapse.

He placed the eggs on the plates, took the toast, and served his daughter with a practiced tenderness. In-ho adjusted his tie in the living room mirror. It was another normal day. Another ordinary morning. The kind of morning Gi-hun had learned to cherish.

But as he sat down at the table and smiled at the two of them, he could still feel the slight tremor that originated deep in his chest.

As if something—or someone—was still to come.

Even after the conclusion of The Taker's case, Gi-hun still made a habit of frequently visiting the Homicide Department.

Part of it was due to the insistence of In-ho's team, who made a point of seeing him whenever possible, but there was also a genuine desire on his part to maintain contact with the friends he had made there, as if he needed that connection to remember that, despite everything, he had survived. The routine of the place, the familiar faces, and even the smell of stale coffee brought a comforting feeling—a strange kind of home.

After the rescue, both he and Ga-yeong were immediately taken to the hospital. Gi-hun was diagnosed with a mild concussion and some broken ribs, which kept him under observation for a week. Ga-yeong, due to the psychological trauma, was admitted to the psychiatric ward for the same period. During those difficult days, neither of them was alone.

Everyone on the team made a point of visiting them at least once a day, as if, somehow, their presence could compensate for the pain they had gone through.

Dae-ho, upon seeing him for the first time in the hospital room, couldn't hold back his tears. He was certain that, by having given Gong Yoo's address, he had sealed Gi-hun's fate, sending him directly to his death. Regret streamed down his face in the form of weeping.

Curiously, the one Gi-hun thought would cry—Young-mi—remained steadfast from beginning to end. With a serene expression, she praised his courage and strength, like someone recognizing a warrior returned from the battlefield.

The same, however, could not be said of Hyun-ju and No-eul. Right from the first visit, Gi-hun was greeted with a scolding from Hyun-ju, who didn't mince words in emphasizing how irresponsible and dangerous his attitude had been.

And when he thought that would be the worst of it, No-eul came, quieter but equally expressive: she gave him two discreet punches in the arm, without saying anything at first. Then, crossing her arms, she blurted out with frustration: "That's for being stupid." And soon after, another punch. "And that's for being even more stupid."

Gi-hun knew that those gruff demonstrations, however uncomfortable they were, were the two's way of saying they cared—so he just endured it, with a resigned half-smile.

Jun-ho, for his part, did his best to show up after his shift, even though he was overworked, covering for his brother who had practically set up camp in the hospital next to Gi-hun and Ga-yeong. In addition to company, he also became the main source of news about the progress of the case. With Gong Yoo caught in the act, he was detained at the Seoul Detention Center and would remain in custody until the trial. However, the case was complex, and the collection of evidence would take months. Fortunately, the case against him was solid, and both Gi-hun and the team felt hopeful about the possibility of justice being served.

After his discharge from the hospital, a simple tradition began to mark Gi-hun's Sundays: lunch at the home of In-ho and Jun-ho's mother, Mrs. Park Mal-soon. It was something seemingly simple, but which, for him, carried enormous weight. The last time he had felt so nervous meeting a maternal figure was with the parents of his ex-wife, Eun-ji. But, contrary to what he imagined, Mrs. Park welcomed him with an almost immediate affection. As soon as she saw him for the first time, she enveloped him in a warm hug and treated him as if he were already part of the family. For a woman over seventy years old, her mentality was surprisingly modern and generous.

Between parallel conversations and glasses of wine, Gi-hun learned that he was the first person In-ho had introduced to his mother since the death of his ex-wife. That left him both surprised and deeply touched. And more than just accepting his presence, Mrs. Park made it clear that she was happy to see her son with someone like Gi-hun.

The woman's recognition and explicit affection made him feel, finally, at home. Since then, visiting her house on Sundays had become part of his routine, almost like a silent ceremony of healing and belonging. A new chapter had begun—and, this time, there was love, acceptance, and hope in every small gesture.

One of the most unexpected surprises Gi-hun had during his stay in the hospital was the visit from Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong. The couple, upon reading in the newspaper that the suspect in The Taker case had finally been arrested, also learned that photos of Gi-hun and the crime that had taken place in his home were widely publicized on all TV channels. Curious about how he was, Ji-yeong managed to find out which hospital he was in, with the help of her contacts in the police, and the two, without hesitation, decided to pay him a visit.

They found him while Gi-hun was taking Ga-yeong for a walk in the courtyard, and the girl, always friendly, quickly introduced herself to the two women. The conversation started casually, when Ga-yeong complimented Ji-yeong's hair, and she, with a smile, replied with a funny story about how she had suddenly wanted to get highlights, explaining all the motivation behind the change. Ga-yeong, in turn, tried to follow the conversation with her still slightly unaccustomed Korean, which generated scenes of pure tenderness. Gi-hun and Sae-byeok, who watched the scene from afar, couldn't help but smile at the genuine moment.

It was at that moment that Sae-byeok, breaking the silence, commented in a soft tone "She looks like you."

That was the first time she had said anything since they arrived. And it was then that Gi-hun realized that Sae-byeok, despite her tough facade, also had difficulty showing concern, although, deep down, she cared a lot.

"It's good to see you too." Gi-hun replied, smiling back.

Sae-byeok, with her impassive face, seemed to ponder for a moment what to say, and finally, looking away at Gi-hun's girlfriend, who was now playing rock-paper-scissors with Ga-yeong, she uttered a simple "Good thing you're okay."

Gi-hun thanked her, with an even more sincere smile, "Thank you."

Changes always seem simple at first glance, but for Gi-hun, moving house was undoubtedly one of the smallest problems after everything that had happened.

That was the first step towards regaining some normalcy, and finally having a place to sleep comfortably, after days spent on Jung-bae's sofa and in an uncomfortable hospital bed, was a relief.

To help him with the move, he called Jung-bae and Ali, and with the help of a truck that Ali brought directly from his workshop, they didn't have to worry about a moving service. Jung-bae, who still seemed a little nervous after finding out that his friend was dating a man, was silent for a few moments, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing. However, after a strange hesitation, when Gi-hun showed him a photo of In-ho, Jung-bae didn't take long to praise his friend's good taste.

Ali, who was completely unaware of everything that had happened in Gi-hun's life lately, heard a very summarized and softened version of the story, without going into the darker details, like the part where three men had been killed inside the same house. Even so, upon learning that a murderer was still after his friend, Ali was frightened, but promised to pray for Gi-hun and his family, something for which Gi-hun was deeply grateful.

Before proceeding with the move, Gi-hun contacted the real estate agency, which informed him that they could only put the house up for sale after all personal belongings were removed. When he arrived at the old house to begin the removal, however, he noticed something he hadn't before: there were very few items that were really worth taking to In-ho's apartment. Most of the appliances were already there, and were even better than his own; his bed no longer existed, and there were few decorations he really wanted to keep. In the end, the truck was basically filled with clothes, some of Gi-hun's personal items, and the remainder of the porcelain collection his mother had left him.

As he watched Jung-bae and Ali organize the items in the truck, something on the street caught his attention. At the top of the street, he saw a familiar figure.

Sangwoo.

That night, Gi-hun hadn't sought to know what had happened to Sangwoo. Even with all the madness involving The Taker already in the past, he no longer had any interest in knowing what had become of his childhood friend. But seeing him there, standing on the same street where they used to play as children, a sudden impulse of curiosity made him want to know how he was, what had become of his life after all that. However, something stronger prevented him from acting, Sangwoo's words still echoing in his mind.

Slowly, Sangwoo began to walk in Gi-hun's direction, his steps firm and resolute, as if his presence there had no effect whatsoever. Gi-hun remained where he was, static, awaiting the excuse that his childhood friend always gave. However, when Sangwoo passed by him without even looking at his face, Gi-hun couldn't hide his surprise. In the end, it wasn't something he hadn't expected from Sangwoo, the man who never accepted losing.

When Gi-hun was about to resume what he was doing, packing his belongings, he heard a soft, almost imperceptible voice, which could almost be mistaken for the wind.

"Thank you." That's what he could hear.

Neither of them turned to face the other directly, and Gi-hun did nothing but acknowledge the words before making his way back inside the house. He had nothing more to say to Sangwoo. If the money he had given him had helped in any way, well, that was the intention. But he didn't want to see him again, preferably never again.

Sangwoo left, readily understanding that he wasn't welcome, and Gi-hun remained quiet after that. Ali asked what had happened, but he laughed and said it was nothing.

They finished loading the truck and also helped take things to In-ho's apartment, who had already had a copy of a key made for Gi-hun. The two friends seemed equally shocked by the beauty of the place, just as Gi-hun had felt when he first arrived there.

And so, the days accumulated like stacks of washed dishes—identical, repetitive, peaceful. And yet, Gi-hun couldn't ignore the feeling that something was... wrong.

The phrase wouldn't leave his head.

"Just be careful with who holds the pen."

He had tried to ignore it. To bury it under the comfortable routine he built with In-ho and Ga-yeong. But some seeds are more stubborn than others. And now, it grew inside him like a weed, suffocating his peace.

In the quiet moments—when he washed the dishes, when he folded Ga-yeong's clothes, when he lay beside In-ho at night—doubt crept up on him. And with each new dawn, its weight was harder to bear.

He felt as if he already knew everything, and yet knew nothing. And there was only one person in the world who could end these poisonous thoughts.

It was a gray afternoon when he decided.

Without saying anything to In-ho, without even planning properly, Gi-hun left the house with a light jacket thrown over his shoulders and his hands clenched in his pockets.

On Thursday, after dropping Ga-yeong off at school and before returning home, Gi-hun parked the car in front of the gray and monotonous building that was the Seoul Detention Center. He sat there, his hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel, looking at the facade as if waiting for courage to sprout from the asphalt.

He took a deep breath. He got out of the car.

The place was cold, oppressive, gray like the sky.

The guard at the reception gave him a tired look when he asked to visit Gong Yoo.

"Inmate's name?"

"Gong Yoo."

"Your name?"

"Seong Gi-hun."

The guard raised an eyebrow, curious, but didn't ask any questions. He just wrote it down on a form and asked him to wait. Gi-hun nodded, feeling cold sweat run down his back, even in the mild weather.

It was a long few minutes until they called his name.

He was led through sterile corridors, the sound of his own footsteps echoing too loudly. His heart beat heavy, dull, against his ribs. Each step seemed to take him deeper into a dark cave from which he might not be able to escape.

Finally, they stopped before a reinforced glass door. On the other side, sitting at a metal table, was Gong Yoo.

He looked different. Less imposing. The orange prison uniform hung loosely on his body. His hair was slightly longer, disheveled.

But the eyes...

The eyes were the same.

Alive. Sharp. Knowing something Gi-hun didn't yet know.

For a moment, the two stared at each other through the glass. Neither of them smiled.

Gi-hun took a deep breath and entered.

He sat down on the squeaky metal chair, facing the man who, in so many ways, had changed his life forever.

Gong Yoo tilted his head slightly, like someone recognizing an old piece returning to the board.

"Have you finally come to hear the truth?" he asked, his voice hoarse, with a disconcerting calmness. And a chilling smile.

Gi-hun kept his gaze steady, even though everything inside him screamed to run from there.

The cards would be laid on the table.

And no matter how bad the truth was, this time, there would be no turning back.

Chapter Text

With both wrists secured by cold steel handcuffs to the unyielding metal table, the stark reality of Gong Yoo’s confinement was impossible to ignore.

He was a kidnapper. A murderer. A serial killer. That much had been unequivocally clear from the beginning, etched in the grim details of the case. And yet… a persistent unease lingered in Gi-hun’s mind, a discordant note in the otherwise resolved case.

“Have you finally come to hear the truth?” Gong Yoo asked, his voice a low, unsettlingly calm rasp that seemed to slither through the sterile air of the interrogation room. A chilling smile stretched across his lips, a grotesque parody of warmth.

The truth.

The same elusive truth that haunted Gi-hun’s nights, a shadow he couldn’t shake no matter how many days bled into weeks. A persistent, unsettling feeling that a crucial piece of the puzzle remained missing, a loose thread that frayed the edges of his certainty.

After weeks of relentless introspection, of replaying every detail, Gi-hun found it increasingly difficult to believe that The Taker, the orchestrator of such calculated brutality, was someone as transparently malevolent and intellectually shallow as Gong Yoo – someone who killed merely for twisted amusement. Amid countless internal philosophical debates and sleepless nights wrestling with the inconsistencies, a nagging conviction grew: there was something more, something he had overlooked.

He had naively believed that once The Taker was apprehended and locked away, the weight of the case would lift, allowing his life to return to its fractured semblance of normalcy. But the disquiet persisted, a constant reminder of loose ends.

And if the man sitting across from him, shackled and seemingly powerless, had planted these seeds of doubt in the first place, then Gong Yoo was the only one who could unearth them.

“You don’t look surprised to see me,” Gi-hun stated, his posture deliberately firm, projecting a confidence he didn’t entirely feel. He refused to be intimidated by those unsettling expressions any longer.

“Of course not. I knew you’d come eventually. It was only a matter of time,” Gong Yoo replied, his voice laced with a smug certainty as he slowly intertwined his fingers, a gesture that spoke of perverse enjoyment. The blatant manipulation only fueled Gi-hun’s simmering anger.

“If what you said was a lie, then—”

“If you truly believed it was a lie, you wouldn’t have come in the first place.” Gong Yoo cut in, his eyes glinting with a knowing amusement. “But you do believe it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Gi-hun scoffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, a defensive posture against the unsettling calm radiating from the other man. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t come here for you.”

“Oh, really? Then you came for him, didn’t you? Hwang In-ho.” The deliberate emphasis on the ‘him’ made Gi-hun’s eyes widen, a visceral reaction he couldn’t suppress. His body tensed instantly, every muscle coiling.

“Gi-hun, Gi-hun…” Gong Yoo continued, a theatrical sigh escaping his lips. “Do you know what wounds a man’s pride the most?”

He paused, a predatory gleam in his eyes, relishing Gi-hun’s involuntary tension. “Being falsely accused.”

Gi-hun let out a frustrated sigh, the sound echoing in the sterile room. There was no conceivable reality where Gong Yoo could be innocent – not after the horrific tableau he had witnessed in that abandoned school.

“Yes, I suppose you understand that feeling quite well,” Gong Yoo continued relentlessly, his gaze unwavering.

Even against his will, the raw, suffocating memories of his first day at the precinct flooded back – Detective Park’s accusatory glare, the weight of suspicion for a murder he hadn’t committed. That agonizing feeling of knowing the truth but being powerless to convince anyone, the walls of disbelief closing in. Gi-hun understood that feeling intimately. But not from someone like Gong Yoo, a self-confessed killer.

“How dare you claim to be falsely accused after what you did to my daughter?” Gi-hun growled, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. It was an act of utter shamelessness to plead innocence after nearly ending two lives in that twisted cruel game.

“Sure, I’ll admit my part in that little drama. After all, I did take care of those… persistent loan sharks at your place, didn’t I?” Gong Yoo said with a casual shrug, as if discussing the weather. The nonchalant confession hit Gi-hun like a physical blow. His shocked expression must have been revealing, because Gong Yoo chuckled – a genuine, unsettlingly amused sound this time. “Why so surprised? I thought you’d be glad I took care of one of your… problems.”

“As if I’d be happy someone killed on my behalf,” Gi-hun spat, the words laced with disgust.

“Really? Then you’re not going to like what’s coming.” A dark undercurrent in Gong Yoo’s voice sent a shiver of unease down Gi-hun’s spine.

“Just be careful with who holds the pen. That’s what you told me that day,” Gi-hun retorted, cutting through the manipulative games and returning to the core reason for his visit. “So who is holding the pen, Gong Yoo?”

“You know, Gi-hun, I take a great deal of pride in my… work,” Gong Yoo began, his tone almost professorial, as if imparting wisdom. Before Gi-hun could interrupt, he continued, “Sure, getting caught is an occupational hazard, unfortunate but inevitable. But being recognized? Ah, that’s part of the craft. What’s the point of a grand performance if there’s no appreciative audience?”

“Get to the point,” Gi-hun snapped, his patience wearing thin, though a knot of apprehension tightened in his chest, his heartbeat quickening against his ribs.

“When an artist labors so diligently to create his own unique identity, it’s… humiliating to be mistaken for someone else, wouldn’t you agree? And when that someone refuses to step forward and claim credit for his own masterpiece, allowing the so-called ‘impostor’ to bask in the undeserved glory… well, things can get rather messy, don’t you think?”

A heavy silence descended between them, the unspoken implications hanging thick in the air. Only the occasional creak of the worn chairs echoed in the tense stillness of the interrogation room.

They were positioned at a safe distance, the metal table a solid barrier. Gong Yoo couldn’t physically reach him, even if he tried.

Yet, his presence felt suffocating, as if it leached all the oxygen from the room, filling every corner with a palpable sense of menace.

“So… you mean to say…?” Gi-hun began, the dawning realization of a cold dread creeping up his spine.

“Yes,” Gong Yoo confirmed, that same sinister smile spreading across his face, a prelude to a revelation that promised to unravel everything Gi-hun thought he knew. “I’m not The Taker.”

BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ

“Ugh, which idiot forgot to silence their phone before putting it in the locker?”

After The Taker Case was closed, all members of the task force were reassigned to new investigations. With an excess of highly skilled officers, the remaining idle detectives had been moved to less glamorous duties within the department.

One of those duties was supervising inmate visits. The officer in charge was responsible for ensuring no visitor brought in unauthorized items, enforcing the one-hour visitation limit, and maintaining a safe, problem-free environment.

It wasn’t the most exciting post, but it was where Detective Park now spent half his days.

“I think it was visitor number 123, sir,” replied Officer Yang, a short, scrawny man.

“123...” Park muttered, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the row of glass-walled rooms. He quickly spotted the man wearing a badge marked ‘123.’ “Huh? That guy? What the hell is he doing here?”

“Mr. Seong, you mean?” Yang tilted his head slightly. “Word is he was one of The Taker’s targets. Apparently, he came to visit the suspect.”

“I know that, you idiot. I want to know why he's here.”

“I’m not sure, sir. A lot of victims visit their tormentors to close the chapter… Maybe it’s something like that.”

Park scoffed, folding his arms in front of the thick glass. He stared intensely at the room in the distance, as if trying to hear what was being said inside. But judging by how stiff Mr. Seong sat in that chair, body tense, eyes locked onto the handcuffed man across from him, this definitely wasn’t a simple conversation to find closure.

“...Maybe,” Park muttered, uneasy.

"W-what?" The denial was almost a reflex, yet a chilling part of Gi-hun had anticipated this very claim. Still, the emotional impact was like a physical blow, stealing his breath. His heart stuttered, a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs. Slowly, almost involuntarily, he leaned back against the cold, unyielding metal of the interrogation chair, the sterile air in the small room suddenly feeling thick and suffocating. His wide, disbelieving eyes locked onto Gong Yoo’s, who, in stark contrast, wore an almost serene expression, a perverse sense of relief washing over his features as if a long-held burden had finally been shed.

“It’s a matter of simple logic, Gi-hun,” Gong Yoo began, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting casually on the steel table that separated them, the metallic clink of his handcuffs a stark counterpoint to his calm tone. “Or were you so… emotionally invested that you conveniently overlooked the most basic facts of the case?”

Gi-hun shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The chair groaned beneath him, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence. The last thing he wanted was to engage in a rational debate with this monster, to hear his twisted justifications. Yet, a desperate need for clarity, for a complete understanding of the insidious web he felt himself caught in, kept him rooted there. He had to know the truth, no matter how ugly.

“I distinctly recall mentioning that, based on the downward trajectory of the fatal wound, the killer had to be significantly shorter than your height. Or has that crucial detail already conveniently slipped your mind?” Gong Yoo’s voice was sharp, devoid of emotion, almost clinical in its detachment.

“How can I possibly believe anything you say is the truth?” Gi-hun retorted, the defensive edge in his voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty that was beginning to snake through him.

“Verify it yourself. Any competent forensic analyst will confirm the physics of the matter,” Gong Yoo replied with a dismissive shrug, as if discussing a minor discrepancy in a grocery bill.

“You could have been crouching when you struck the blow!” Gi-hun countered quickly, his mind racing, desperately trying to find logical flaws in Gong Yoo’s unsettlingly calm assertions.

“Even in a crouched position, the angle wouldn’t align with the evidence,” Gong Yoo said, a hint of weary impatience entering his voice. “A person’s height dictates their arm length and reach. My downward thrust, even from a lower stance, would have impacted at a considerably higher point than the actual wound. Think, Gi-hun. Basic biomechanics.”

Gi-hun clenched his jaw, his knuckles white against the edge of the table. “Don’t get smug. That still doesn’t definitively prove anything.”

“No?” A thin, cynical smile curled the corners of Gong Yoo’s lips, a silent challenge in his eyes. “Very well then. Shall we dissect another rather… telling piece of evidence?”

He leaned back in his chair with a theatrical flourish, his handcuffed fingers interlaced across his chest as if settling in for an engaging lecture. “As I’ve readily confessed, I was the one who… dealt with those rather unpleasant loan sharks at your residence. They were nothing more than persistent vermin. Their removal was… almost cathartic.”

Gi-hun’s face tightened with disgust at the casual dismissal of human life. “What’s your twisted point?”

“Hmph,” Gong Yoo scoffed softly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features at Gi-hun’s interruption of his carefully constructed narrative. “What I wish to draw your attention to is the rather… unique note I so thoughtfully left behind amidst the carnage.”

Gi-hun’s mind involuntarily conjured the gruesome scene: the slick, dark blood staining his floor, the grotesque stillness of the bodies, and that carelessly discarded, blood-smeared note on his living room table. As the stark, handwritten words flashed in his memory, a chill deeper than the room’s temperature snaked up his spine.

“Don’t touch what belongs to me.”

The possessiveness of the message, the chillingly territorial undertone, resonated with a disturbing familiarity.

“You weren’t talking about the money,” Gi-hun murmured, the realization dawning slowly, spoken more to himself than to the man across from him.

“Precisely not,” Gong Yoo replied, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, a fleeting, almost gentle smile playing on his lips – a jarring contrast to the brutal context, making it all the more unsettling.

“Okay. The note. What about it?” Gi-hun pressed, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach.

Gong Yoo adopted an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, his brow furrowed as if wrestling with a complex philosophical quandary – though the mocking glint in his eyes betrayed his true intent. “If my recollection serves me, The Taker had a rather… distinctive signature when crafting his little messages, didn’t he? Letters meticulously excised from magazines, painstakingly pieced together word by agonizing word.”

Gi-hun fell silent, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a sickening finality. It was true. He vividly recalled the details from the initial crime scenes, the crude, ransom-note style of the killer’s messages. In-ho himself had pointed it out, a recurring motif, a grim calling card.

If Gong Yoo had indeed penned the note in his living room, a message meant to intimidate Gi-hun… why hadn’t he adhered to that established, chilling style?

“So… why did your esteemed lead detective, the supposedly brilliant Hwang In-ho, fail to notice such a glaring inconsistency?” Gong Yoo’s voice cut through the silence, laced with a subtle, almost conspiratorial tone.

“Maybe… maybe he just overlooked it,” Gi-hun offered weakly, the words sounding flimsy and unconvincing even to his own ears.

“Pff. Seriously, Gi-hun?” Gong Yoo let out a dry, humorless laugh that echoed the growing hollowness in Gi-hun’s understanding. “A seasoned detective, obsessed with the details of this very case, misses something that fundamental? He must have noticed. The far more pertinent question is: why did he choose to ignore it… or worse, actively conceal it?”

“I… I don’t…” Gi-hun stammered, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, grasping for a logical explanation that wouldn’t shatter his already fragile perception of reality. In-ho, the meticulous, precise detective he knew, the man who had dedicated years to hunting The Taker, would never have missed such a crucial detail. So why the deception?

“Can you feel the insidious little pieces starting to slot into place now, Gi-hun~?” Gong Yoo murmured, his voice a low, almost seductive purr, like a venomous serpent slowly coiling around its prey. “Don’t fret. Our little… debriefing is far from over.”

The comment sent a fresh wave of icy dread washing over Gi-hun. The already oppressive air in the room seemed to grow colder, heavier, pressing down on him with an almost tangible weight.

“During my initial interrogation sessions,” Gong Yoo continued, his eyes narrowing, his expression hardening with a flicker of genuine resentment, “I was rather surprised to learn that the only concrete evidence they claimed linked me to that rather… unpleasant triple homicide was the discovery of my DNA at the scene.” He scoffed, a harsh, guttural sound. “Forgive my immodesty, detective, but I pride myself on my meticulousness. Do you honestly believe I would be so amateurish as to leave something as irrefutable as DNA behind, carelessly?”

“You’re suggesting… it was a setup?” The question escaped Gi-hun’s lips in a shaky whisper, the implications of Gong Yoo’s words sending a shiver of unease down his spine.

“Someone with intimate knowledge of my… methods, and a vested interest in seeing me take the fall for those particular deaths. Someone who also understood that those murders would be readily attributed to The Taker. Someone who wanted the blame to fall squarely on me.” Gong Yoo’s voice dropped, losing its earlier theatricality, becoming low, serious, almost conspiratorial.

“Who?” Gi-hun breathed, the single word a desperate plea for clarity in the suffocating fog of doubt.

“The real The Taker,” Gong Yoo stated, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“I asked who,” Gi-hun pressed, his voice gaining a strained firmness, demanding an answer that Gong Yoo seemed determined to withhold.

Gong Yoo leaned forward, his eyes narrowing to predatory slits, half of his face cast in stark shadow under the harsh, unforgiving glare of the overhead fluorescent light. “I don’t know, Gi-hun. Why don’t you tell me?” A cruel, knowing smile stretched across his lips, devoid of any genuine warmth. “Did you truly not see… or did you simply choose to remain willfully blind?”

Gi-hun flinched, looking away from that piercing gaze. His entire body was rigid, every muscle tensed, coiled and ready to spring as if anticipating an invisible blow. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that Gong Yoo wouldn’t simply hand him the truth. He also knew that the most agonizing part of this entire ordeal would be finally admitting to himself the buried suspicions, the nagging inconsistencies he had so vehemently tried to ignore.

“Why do you think the police managed to locate us so swiftly at that secluded, abandoned school that night?”

The question hung in the sterile air, a venomous seed of doubt taking root in the fertile ground of Gi-hun’s growing unease.

Gi-hun didn’t respond, his breath catching in his throat. He simply stared at the cold, unforgiving metal of the table, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of half-formed thoughts and terrifying possibilities.

“And your ever-present ‘bodyguard,’ your devoted protector… why was he conveniently absent the very day those loan sharks decided to pay you an… unscheduled visit?”

His throat tightened, a wave of nausea churning in his stomach. A cold shiver traced its way down his spine, leaving a trail of icy dread.

“And perhaps most tellingly, Gi-hun… how did he always know exactly where to find you? Every single time?”

A choked gasp escaped Gi-hun’s lips, the sound amplified in the suffocating silence of the interrogation room. It was as if the rusted gears of his mind, long seized by fear, guilt, and a desperate need for denial, had finally begun to grind into reluctant motion once more.

He was a terrible liar. Everyone who knew him could attest to his inability to maintain a falsehood. Yet, that night… that fateful, rain-slicked night, he had lied. Not just to the bewildered officers, but to himself. When they had pressed him for details, he had conjured a vague image: a man in a black coat, wielding an axe.

But what he had deliberately omitted, the detail he had buried deep within the recesses of his traumatized mind… was the reason he hadn’t seen the attacker’s face.

Back then, in the immediate aftermath of the terror, he had desperately clung to the flimsy excuse of shock, of a mind unable to process the sheer horror of the moment.

But now… now, as Gong Yoo’s insidious questions chipped away at his carefully constructed wall of denial, the chilling truth, stark and undeniable, began to crystallize in his consciousness.

Because The Taker… had been wearing a mask.

At the time, in the chaotic aftermath of the attack, he wouldn’t have been able to articulate exactly what that mask looked like – only that it was black, sharp-edged, and deeply unsettling. But now, with the fragmented memories resurfacing, triggered by Gong Yoo’s unsettlingly pointed questions, he was terrifyingly sure. Because he had seen it again. Tucked away in the shadows of In-ho’s meticulously organized room.

Gi-hun felt like a ship caught in a sudden, violent squall, the horrifying realization slowly washing over him like a frigid, unforgiving tide. Gong Yoo, with his unnerving perceptiveness, must have sensed the dawning horror in his eyes, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a sickening finality, because his sinister smile widened, becoming almost predatory, a grotesque expression of triumph.

Logically, In-ho could not be The Taker. He was the lead detective, the one spearheading the entire investigation. Yet, a chilling counter-argument echoed in Gi-hun's mind: Gong Yoo, undeniably unhinged, had also been a police officer. And if In-ho was truly the exceptional detective everyone believed him to be, why had the elusive Taker remained at large for over five years, leaving behind only a sparse trail of breadcrumbs?

He’s a good person. Isn't he? The thought felt fragile, a desperate anchor in a rising storm of doubt. Can I say that with any certainty? Do I truly know the man I thought I loved?

The more Gi-hun tried to construct logical defenses for In-ho, the more insidious counter-arguments his own mind supplied, each one a tiny crack widening the fissure of his denial.

But it couldn’t be him… could it? The silent question hung heavily in the sterile air.

"Well? Looks like the cogs are finally turning," Gong Yoo said, a smug amusement lacing his voice, as if relishing Gi-hun's internal struggle. "Took you long enough to catch up."

"This… this makes no sense," Gi-hun whispered, the words barely audible, lost to the chaos in his own head. But Gong Yoo, with his acute awareness of Gi-hun's unraveling composure, caught the fractured statement and erupted in a harsh, mocking laugh, as if Gi-hun had just delivered the punchline to a particularly dark joke.

"Is that truly what you think? Because from where I'm sitting, it's been blindingly obvious."

"Obvious? How could it possibly be obvious?" Gi-hun retorted, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps, a nervous tremor running through him. Ever since that unsettling glimpse of the bizarre mask, a discordant note had resonated within him, a sense that something was profoundly wrong. He just hadn't been able to identify the source of the unease. And now that a terrifying possibility was taking shape, he felt utterly lost.

"Hm, takes one to know one," Gong Yoo replied, a smug certainty radiating from him.

"If you knew all along, why didn't you say anything?" The question was laced with a bitter accusation. If Gong Yoo had revealed this sooner, perhaps lives could have been saved. But the futility of appealing to the morality of a man like Gong Yoo quickly extinguished that fleeting hope.

"You think I give a damn about the bodies your precious little boyfriend piled up?" Gong Yoo snapped, his earlier amusement vanishing, replaced by a raw, visceral anger. "As long as his little… hobby didn't interfere with my own existence, it was irrelevant. What isn't irrelevant is that manipulative son of a bitch trying to frame me, using me as a convenient disposal for his guilt so he could play house with you."

"That's not true—" Gi-hun began, a surge of protective loyalty, however misplaced it might be, rising within him. He felt an almost instinctive need to defend In-ho's honor.

But the weight of Gong Yoo's accusations, coupled with the growing unease in his own mind, made the defense feel hollow, almost pathetic.

"Stop deluding yourself, Gi-hun. The sooner you face the truth, the less agonizing this will be for you." Gong Yoo's tone softened slightly as he observed the desolate expression creeping across Gi-hun's face. "Why the long face? Isn't this the grand revelation you came seeking?"

The answer I was looking for?

A cold knot tightened in Gi-hun's stomach. It was true; a part of him had always felt a lingering dissatisfaction with the neat resolution of the case. Accepting Gong Yoo as The Taker had felt too simple, too… convenient. Almost staged, just as Gong Yoo had implied – a pre-written narrative with a tidy, albeit grim, conclusion. But the disquiet had remained, a persistent itch beneath the surface of his supposed closure.

He had come to this sterile room seeking the truth, hoping to finally silence the gnawing doubts that had haunted his waking hours and bled into his dreams, so he could somehow piece together his shattered life and move forward.

But this… this wasn't the truth he had envisioned.

Yet, a terrifying part of him recognized the chilling logic in Gong Yoo's words, the insidious way the pieces were clicking into place. In a way, his subconscious had always registered the inconsistencies, the subtle dissonances that had never quite harmonized with the official narrative. Innocent questions In-ho had asked that now seemed loaded with ulterior motives. Sudden, almost preternatural appearances. Words chosen with a precision that now felt calculated, rehearsed. Everything… staged.

He had simply refused to acknowledge the terrifying implications, burying them under layers of trust and affection. Allowing such thoughts felt like a descent into madness. But now, with Gong Yoo’s brutal unveiling, it all… fit.

All of it – except for the fundamental, agonizing question.

"Why?"

That single word hung in the air, the eternal question that shadowed every act of inexplicable cruelty.

"If… if he really is…" Gi-hun choked on the name, the mere utterance feeling like a betrayal. "Then why? Why go to such elaborate lengths? What could he possibly hope to gain by… by staying so close to me?"

Gong Yoo even took a moment to feign deep contemplation, tapping a handcuffed finger against the table, leaving Gi-hun suspended in a torturous silence, a fragile hope flickering amidst the encroaching darkness.

"Well now," Gong Yoo finally said, a cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. "Wasn't there some rather… poetic mantra of The Taker's? To strike when their victims were at their most vulnerable? No, wait… when they were at their happiest, wasn't it? At the supposed 'best moment of their lives'?"

And for the first time since Ga-yeong’s abduction, a cold fist clenched around Gi-hun’s heart, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

No. No, it couldn’t be. That wasn’t it. That couldn’t possibly be it.

His breath tightened, his vision blurring at the edges as a wave of agonizing thoughts, sharp and brutal, clawed their way through the remnants of his denial.

"Well?" Gong Yoo snapped, his voice sharp, dragging Gi-hun back from the precipice of a horrifying realization. Gi-hun looked up, his mind still reeling, the pieces of his shattered world spinning into a terrifying new configuration. "So, Gi-hun… would you say you're currently experiencing the best moment of your life?"

“Visitor Number 123, your time is up,” Officer Yang called through the door.

The moment he finished unlocking it, the door swung open immediately, with such force that the impact echoed off the wall, drawing curious looks from other visitors and officers.

Gi-hun also bumped into the officer as he exited, but didn’t even bother to apologize. He needed to get out of there—now.

He knew this was the effect the conversation with Gong Yoo would have on him, so he shouldn't be surprised. But finding out that his then-boyfriend was actually a serial killer who had murdered several people in recent years, had stalked and terrorized him months ago, wasn’t exactly part of the plan. And the possibility that said boyfriend might be planning to kill him... even less so.

He wouldn’t kill him, right? That couldn’t be. He loved him, didn’t he? But then again, killers have a strong code, and Gi-hun was supposedly his target. He wouldn’t let a victim slip away just on a whim. Damn Gong Yoo, for putting these ideas in his head in the first place.

Before he could take another step toward the exit, he was stopped by someone grabbing his arm.

“Woah, where do you think you’re going, Mr. Seong?” the voice said, and as he turned to identify the person preventing him from leaving, he came face to face with Detective Park.

“Let me go,” he said sharply, trying to pull his arm free, but the grip was strong. Gi-hun didn’t want to stay here for even another second. With so many truths being revealed, it was hard to know who to trust. But he needed to find In-ho.

Park didn’t let go. In fact, he tightened his grip, wearing a cynical smile. “Well, well... so sensitive. Had a little chat with your cellmate and now you're all heartbroken?”

Gi-hun froze.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually surprised. Every time I see you, you’re mixed up with scum like that. I always thought you looked like trouble.” Park took a step closer, his face so near Gi-hun could smell the stale coffee on his breath. “You should be locked up right next to him.”

The rage exploded before he could hold it back. Gi-hun shoved Park hard, making him stumble two steps back. “Shut up, you bastard!”

The officer looked surprised for a second, but the look quickly turned to fury. He lunged forward and shoved Gi-hun against the hallway wall, drawing a few attentive glances from other officers and visitors.

“You want to yell? Go ahead, scream! But don’t think you can just go around hitting an officer and come out on top!”

“What do you want, huh?” Gi-hun spat the words. “Want to take your frustration out on me? You hate losing so much that now you’re dumping it all on me?”

Park shoved him again, but this time Gi-hun stood his ground, eyes burning. The officer studied him for a moment, then released him with an impatient sigh, brushing imaginary dust off his uniform.

“Gather your crap and get out of my station,” he said, turning his back. “Before I find a real reason to keep you here.”

Gi-hun walked past the reception desk, retrieved his wallet, phone, and watch with trembling hands. Meanwhile, the thoughts came crashing back. Not just about the fight with Park — that was only smoke compared to the fire raging inside him.

In-ho.

The name stung like a freshly opened wound.

Every memory now felt tainted. The first date. The late-night talks. The gentle touch. All of it now wrapped in images of cold bodies, dripping blood, lifeless eyes.

He is a killer.

But he was also the man Gi-hun loved. Trusted. Thought he knew.

That was the worst part: he thought he knew In-ho. And maybe In-ho had really loved him back — but what did that mean, coming from someone who killed without remorse?

And worse, was Ga-yeong’s kidnapping planned too? If so, Gi-hun didn’t even know how to feel about it anymore.

Love and death. Affection and lies. Kisses and blood.

Nothing made sense.

He left the building without saying goodbye to anyone. The city seemed to keep spinning as if his world wasn’t falling apart.

With each step toward home, the anger and grief tangled tighter in his chest. A strange kind of mourning for someone who was still alive — or worse, for someone who might have never existed in the way he believed.

And even so, he had to face it. He had to look In-ho in the eyes and ask: why?

Was it all just a plan or some kind of twisted joke? Could it really be, as Gong Yoo had said, “to get him when he was at the best moment of his life”? He didn’t want to believe that, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility.

And if that’s really it, what happens next? Will he confront In-ho and die for knowing too much? He didn’t really have a plan, and with each step he took, he got closer to his house — their house.

He thought about turning back, about running and getting help. But that would only delay the inevitable. If In-ho had been capable of orchestrating such a well-executed plan just to frame someone else, it was entirely possible he could find him despite any obstacles.

His heart ached for answers, and before he knew it, he had reached the door of the building.

Now, there was only one thing left for him to do.

He climbed the steps, each footfall echoing heavily in the sudden silence of the hall. The higher he went, the narrower the stairwell seemed, as if the building itself was reluctant to let him reach the top. The elevator, predictably, was out of order – a minor inconvenience that felt like the universe’s deliberate way of making him feel the weight of each ascending moment.

By the third floor, the exhaustion transcended the physical. It was a weariness born of memory. The phantom sensation of In-ho’s touch on his nape prickled his skin. The unsettling taste of wine and something metallic, a distorted recollection he could no longer confidently label as real or imagined, resurfaced with each labored breath.

He reached the sixth floor.

He paused before the door, his hand hovering inches from the cool metal. Hesitation, sharp and unwelcome, pierced through his resolve. The apartment was shrouded in darkness, yet a soft, inviting glow bled from beneath the door – the living room, perhaps? Or the kitchen, a beacon in the encroaching night.

He’s there.

Turning the key, the lock clicked open with a dry, definitive sound. Slowly, he pushed the door inward.

“In-ho?” The name felt foreign on his tongue, a question whispered into the expectant silence.

The familiar, comforting scent of white tea diffuser still clung to the air, but now it twisted in his stomach, a subtle wave of nausea. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the gentle click of the electric kettle as it finished heating.

“Gi-hun?” In-ho’s voice, warm and genuinely surprised, drifted from the kitchen. “You’re back early. I tried to call you but you didn't answered.”

He emerged from the doorway between the rooms, dressed casually in a soft cotton shirt and well-worn sweatpants, appearing utterly unchanged. He held two steaming mugs of tea, a gesture of domestic normalcy that twisted Gi-hun’s insides. A soft smile touched his lips as he saw him standing there. “Ga-yeong just left with Jung-bae and his daughter. Sleepover at their place, she said.”

Gi-hun remained frozen in the doorway, his gaze fixed on In-ho. The serene expression. The eyes that had so often been his anchor, his source of comfort. That man… couldn’t possibly be the monster Gong Yoo described. But the chilling truth echoed in his mind: He is.

“Are you okay?” In-ho asked, a hint of concern lacing his voice as he approached. “You look pale.”

Gi-hun instinctively took a half step back, creating a small but significant distance. “I went to the police station.”

In-ho stopped mid-stride.

“What were you doing there?” The question was low, measured, each word placed with the delicate precision of someone treading on shattered glass.

“I went to see Gong Yoo.” Gi-hun inhaled deeply, the air catching in his throat. “He told me everything.”

Silence descended, thick and heavy.

With a deliberate slowness, In-ho placed the mugs on the nearby table, his movements betraying none of the turmoil Gi-hun felt churning within him. He didn’t rush to deny the accusation, nor did he attempt to deflect with a change of subject. Instead, he offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if this revelation was an expected inevitability.

“So?” The single word hung in the air, a silent invitation for Gi-hun to continue.

“You’re The Taker.” The words escaped Gi-hun’s lips, raw and laced with a bitter pain. It wasn't a question seeking confirmation, but a stark declaration of a horrifying truth. Calling him by that monstrous name felt like a violation, yet it was a necessary severing of the illusion.

Now that the accusation was out in the open, Gi-hun watched In-ho with a wary intensity, bracing himself for any sudden movement, any flicker of the killer he now knew resided within. But In-ho remained still, his gaze steady.

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide this from you forever,” In-ho said, his voice calm, still standing rooted to the spot but turning his head slowly to meet Gi-hun’s gaze. There it is, Gi-hun thought, a strange sense of disbelief washing over him. He had braced himself for denial, for anger, but this quiet acceptance caught him completely off guard. And the cold, murderous glint he had expected in a killer’s eyes never materialized. Instead, he saw the same warm, loving depths he had woken up to countless mornings. “You’ve always been too smart and too stubborn for your own good.”

Swallowing hard, Gi-hun felt his body coil tighter, every muscle tense. He had always struggled to decipher In-ho’s inner thoughts, and this moment, this chasm of revelation, wasn’t going to be the sudden turning point. But while he still had a semblance of composure, he needed answers, the truth that lay buried beneath the years of shared intimacy.

“I knew something felt wrong. It wasn’t just what Gong Yoo said that day… there were other things, small inconsistencies…” He trailed off, finally giving voice to the unease that had been a persistent hum beneath the surface of their life for the past two months. Their eyes locked, and In-ho’s calm gaze didn’t waver, didn’t offer any hint of the storm raging within Gi-hun. Biting his lip, Gi-hun whispered, the words almost a desperate plea. “I just don’t understand why.”

At that, a flicker of something unreadable crossed In-ho’s face. He closed his eyes briefly, then turned and walked with a strange, blind purpose to the window, his back to Gi-hun. Unsure of how to interpret this sudden shift, Gi-hun remained where he was, hoping his silence wouldn’t be mistaken for disinterest. He craved the truth, the raw, unfiltered truth that only In-ho could reveal. But a primal fear, a cold tendril of apprehension, kept him rooted to the spot, both yearning and dreading what might come next.

“When I turned eighteen, my mother told me I was adopted.”

Gi-hun blinked, the unexpectedness of the statement momentarily derailing his train of thought. Adopted? Jun-ho and Mrs. Park… not his biological family?

“What are you doing?” he asked, a new wave of suspicion washing over him. Was this a deflection? A manipulation?

“You wanted the truth, Gi-hun. So, I’m giving it to you. My truth.”

In-ho paused, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the windowpane, as if searching for the right words to unravel a story long concealed.

“I’d kind of always suspected it, to be honest. There were little things… but I’d never really been curious about my biological parents. However, my mother insisted on telling me that my birth mother had died during childbirth, and that my father left me at the orphanage because he couldn’t take care of me.”

A knot of something akin to pity tightened in Gi-hun’s chest, but he fought it down. A tragic backstory didn’t excuse the horrific reality of The Taker. He needed to hold onto that, to not let empathy cloud the gravity of In-ho’s actions.

“It was unfortunate, sure, but I didn’t blame him at the time. At least I had the chance to live a good, quiet life. One that maybe I wouldn’t have had if I’d stayed with him.” Gi-hun couldn’t see In-ho’s eyes clearly in the dim light, but in the window’s reflection, he could tell In-ho was staring out at the cityscape, a silhouette against the distant lights. “I didn’t feel compelled to meet him, to dig into a past I never knew, so I just moved on. My mother always said I had a strong intuition, a knack for reading people. So, it was no surprise, I guess, that I joined the police force and became a detective in less than two years.”

He knew that part of In-ho. In recent months, their conversations had deepened, venturing into personal territory. Gi-hun had shared pieces of his past – his childhood, Sangwoo, his failed marriage, everything he could bring himself to reveal. Listening to In-ho’s stories, Gi-hun had believed them, too. Now, a chilling realization dawned: everything he’d been told was likely a carefully constructed blend of half-truths and outright lies.

“Life flowed normally, for a while. Jun-ho joined the force a few years later, working under me. I met my ex-wife at what seemed like the perfect time, and we built a stable, fulfilling life. Until…” In-ho’s voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Her death. And the baby’s.

That subject had always been a carefully avoided space between them, a silent understanding that Gi-hun wouldn’t broach it unless In-ho chose to. A strange ache tightened in Gi-hun’s chest, a pang of empathy he knew he shouldn't feel. Even if everything else In-ho had shared was a fabrication, Gi-hun felt a chilling certainty that this particular pain was real.

“Knowing she would die without the surgery, I did everything I could to get the money. Things I didn’t regret at the time.” The weight of that phrase hung in the air, a dark, unspoken question mark. Gi-hun couldn’t begin to fathom the “things” In-ho might have done. “In the end, I managed to raise enough for the initial procedure. But without hesitation, she refused.”

“What?” The question escaped Gi-hun’s lips before he could stop it. He quickly fell silent, not wanting to interrupt. If In-ho was bothered by the outburst, he didn’t show it, offering a small nod of confirmation before continuing. “When I asked her why, she simply said she was already a lost cause – and that it would be better to use the money on someone who still had a chance at life.”

In-ho was never one for overt displays of emotion, but Gi-hun noticed the subtle clench of his jaw as he reached this point in the story, a fleeting glimpse of buried pain.

“I told her she still had a chance, that she couldn’t give up like that. That we could face it together, build a future. She replied that if I truly wanted to make her happy, I’d spend that money on someone who deserved it.”

Gi-hun’s breath grew shallow, a sense of foreboding settling in his stomach. This was uncharted territory, a part of In-ho’s past he had never glimpsed before, and the air felt thick with unspoken danger.

“After her death, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the money. The thought of spending it made me sick, a betrayal of her final wishes. But I also couldn’t just throw it away. The first few years were a blur of grief, but once I made captain, I found a way to live without that money’s shadow constantly looming.”

Indeed, In-ho’s apparent restraint had been remarkable, almost unsettlingly so.

“That was when my mother told me my biological father had fallen ill. Brain tumor, the doctors said. There was a chance of recovery, but he was in a rundown nursing home, no insurance, no one to care for him.”

Even without hearing the rest, a grim understanding began to form in Gi-hun’s mind. He could already trace the dark trajectory of the story.

In-ho moved to the window and pushed it open, letting the cool night air seep into the room. The neighborhood was quiet, the only sounds the hushed murmur of the night itself.

“Even though he was my father, a man who had never acknowledged me, who had chosen to abandon me rather than take responsibility, I saw no reason to help him. But when I found the money she had saved, tucked away in her old wardrobe, I finally found a reason to use it.”

In-ho paused, his gaze distant, as if mentally preparing himself to reveal a core part of his being. Gi-hun couldn’t decipher his expression, but he knew there was no turning back now.

“It wasn’t for him, not really. It was for her. I was fulfilling her last wish: to use that money for someone truly in need. Not wanting any direct involvement, I sent an anonymous gift, everything I had, hoping it would be enough. It didn’t bring me peace, but I hoped she could finally rest knowing her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.”

“That is, until I discovered what he had actually done with that gift.” In-ho shifted again, leaning slightly out the window, perhaps seeking the anonymity of the night, or trying to mask the rising anger in his voice with the faint sounds of distant traffic.

“As a police captain, accessing someone’s financial records wasn’t difficult. A few months after sending the money, a morbid curiosity drove me to check in – to see if he had recovered. But the bank statements, instead of showing hospital fees and prescriptions, were filled with charges for alcohol, expensive cars, luxury goods.”

“Ever since I was a child, I knew I was… different. Emotions didn’t resonate within me the way they seemed to for others, so I learned to mimic them. She was the first person who made me feel something real, something genuine. And when she died, I thought that void would be permanent. But seeing that money – her money – squandered on such meaningless indulgences… that was the first time I felt true, unadulterated hatred.”

Gi-hun flinched as In-ho turned back towards him, his gaze still distant, clouded with the weight of unwelcome memories. A pang of something akin to sadness flickered within Gi-hun, quickly extinguished by the chilling understanding of where this confession was leading.

“It was an insult to her memory, a desecration of her sacrifice. I couldn’t let that stand. I went to the apartment he had rented, intending only to take the remaining money back. He let me in when I told him I was his son. Already weakened by his untreated illness, he offered little resistance.”

“I no longer cared if the disease claimed him. My only intention was to retrieve what was left, to salvage some semblance of honor for her memory. But before I could leave, he looked at me, a pathetic, broken man, and said, ‘You think you’re better than me? Anyone would’ve done the same. You’re a fool to believe otherwise.’”

“The truth is, a part of me didn’t believe him. But I had tried the noble path, the path she would have wanted. She had died for something meaningful, while others carelessly trampled over the gift they were given. That man… he ruined everything. He wasted her sacrifice. And that… was unforgivable.”

Gi-hun swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on In-ho as he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the confession of the act that had set everything in motion.

“I wish I could say it was impulsive, a heat-of-the-moment reaction. But I knew exactly what I was doing. The feeling that washed over me, seeing the blood bloom against the untouched white walls and floor, wasn’t the satisfaction of killing a man – it was the cold, stark relief of delivering a twisted form of justice. He wasn’t worthy of what she had given. And killing him… it quieted the gnawing emptiness in my chest, if only for a moment.”

“For a moment… I felt alive.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if unable to meet Gi-hun’s.

“That man was Oh Il-nam. My first victim.”

The name resonated with a chilling familiarity. Oh Il-nam. The name associated with the blood Gi-hun had found, the macabre message. Looking back, the realization was sickeningly clear: it had been In-ho all along. His stomach churned.

“I managed to cover my tracks. The crime was filed away as unsolved. The police investigation had been so inept it was almost insulting, but I also knew I had done a clean job. I tried to convince myself it had been a one-time aberration, a necessary act. But deep down… I knew I would eventually miss that feeling, that twisted sense of control.”

Gi-hun had never heard In-ho speak so openly about himself, and it was almost frightening how easily he found himself drawn into the narrative, a perverse sense of understanding flickering within him. Which is insane, he thought, a jolt of self-reproach. He was listening to a murderer’s confession. Sympathy shouldn’t even be a possibility. And yet…

“At first, I used her wish as justification. The routine became a pattern: anonymously offering the money, observing their choices, and then… delivering what I deemed to be justice when they proved unworthy. I told myself I was searching for someone deserving of her generosity, but the truth… the ability to expose the hypocrisy of those who swore money wouldn’t change them, that became the real driving force. That… filled a void.”

“At some point, I realized this pattern, this… crusade, could become a problem if it fell into the wrong hands. That’s when I resigned and returned as a detective – my first case being the one that would stretch out over the next five years.”

“The Taker,” Gi-hun finished for him, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.

In-ho finally looked up, meeting Gi-hun’s gaze for the first time since his confession had begun. His face was an unreadable mask, and Gi-hun instinctively tried to mirror it, though the tremor in his hands betrayed his inner turmoil.

“I was the first to connect the seemingly unrelated cases. When the media caught wind of a serial killer, they needed a simple label, something catchy for their reporting.”

Given-Taken Killer. The initial, clumsy moniker now seemed almost comical in its inadequacy. Once they settled on ‘The Taker,’ it spread like wildfire.

“By controlling the investigation, I could always stay one step ahead, track my own movements, and ensure evidence remained hidden. The cycle was meant to continue indefinitely, as long as it needed to, until my superiors inevitably tried to pull me off the case due to the lack of progress.” A bitter scoff escaped In-ho’s lips. He looked away, then back, his gaze intensified. “I honestly believed that would be my life until the end. Nothing could have prepared me for that night.”

Ah, that night.

The same night that still haunted Gi-hun’s sleep, the memory a raw, open wound. Knowing In-ho had been there, the architect of that horror, didn’t lessen the pain; it amplified the terror in his nightmares.

“I’m not someone who’s easily caught off guard. But I was. Even after everything I saw, everything he did… I couldn’t hurt you. It went against everything I… thought I believed in. But I couldn’t let you go either.”

A shiver traced its way down Gi-hun’s spine at the double meaning, the possessiveness lurking beneath the surface of In-ho’s words. The detached recounting of his past shouldn’t affect him this deeply, shouldn’t stir this unsettling mix of fear and… something else.

“I looked into everything about you, Gi-hun. Your record, your life… on paper, you seemed like the perfect match for my victim profile. I didn’t hesitate before making the offer.”

That cold, clinical assessment jarred against the In-ho he had come to know, the man who had unexpectedly, inexplicably, captured his heart. The disconnect was a sharp, agonizing pang.

“With the investigation as a convenient cover, tracking your movements became effortless. And even with such an unconventional beginning, I fully expected our interaction to fall into the same predictable routine – you’d take the money, use it selfishly, prove my worldview correct. But…” A small, almost tender smile touched In-ho’s lips, and the carefully constructed walls around Gi-hun’s heart began to crumble. “You’ve always been remarkably good at proving me wrong.”

That small, genuine smile was enough to momentarily shatter the carefully constructed walls of Gi-hun’s understanding.

“At first, I dismissed it. I thought it was a momentary hesitation, a fleeting sense of guilt that would eventually give way to self-interest. But your genuine aversion to the money – your insistent belief that you had no right to it, even though it had been freely offered – it shook something fundamental within me.”

As if by some unseen magic, emotion returned to In-ho’s voice, a raw vulnerability that had been absent during his detached recounting of the past. It was as if speaking about Gi-hun had unlocked a hidden part of himself. And Gi-hun couldn’t decipher whether that made him feel a terrifying sense of connection or a profound, unsettling fear.

"I found myself wanting to see you, talk to you, touch you more and more. I kept telling myself that at some point you would falter, and the illusion I had built of you would shatter and you would become just another one of those I had killed. However, I also rooted for you, I hoped you wouldn't change and would remain exactly as you were."

"The truth is that deep down, as much as I enjoyed proving that people were the same when it came to money, what I was truly looking for was someone to prove me wrong."

In-ho straightened up from the window ledge and walked firmly towards Gi-hun. Instinctively, Gi-hun took a step back, ready to move away. However, against all the good sense in his mind, his body remained rooted to the spot, waiting for the other man to reach him.

"From one day to the next, everything I had done seemed so meaningless, as if everything I had been trying to prove had been for nothing." Close enough now, In-ho raised his hand to Gi-hun's neck, who, even as a slight tremor ran through him at the contact, didn't pull away. His fingers brushed against the nape of his neck, not squeezing or pulling, just resting there. The sensation made him sigh softly. "I believed the only person who thought that way was dead, until I met you."

Gi-hun squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing what to feel. He had thought he was mentally prepared to hear those words, that knowing from In-ho's own mouth that he was the killer who had murdered so many people would make his feelings for him vanish. Yet, hearing how much Gi-hun meant to him, and how deep his feelings extended, he simply couldn't wish it away anymore.

"That first kiss was nothing more than me surrendering to my desires. It took a lot of self-control not to take you right there." Holding back an unpredictable groan that threatened to escape his lips, Gi-hun dreaded opening his eyes to look at In-ho. His fingers continued to orbit his nape, almost inducing him to lean into them. "I started following your rhythm, and I was satisfied with it until then. But when you said you had spent the money, I knew I couldn't wait any longer."

As if the situation he was in wasn't enough, his treacherous mind still gave him vivid memories of that night. Everything had been so intense and right that whenever he remembered it, he couldn't help but drown in the sensations. However, he still needed to keep his head straight; those same hands that were touching him had ended the lives of so many others.

"And finally, when I found out that you had spent the money the same way she had, giving it to someone else you considered needed it more than you did, I knew I needed to keep you by my side." His other hand rose, and Gi-hun could feel it contacting his cheek, tilting his face up for what seemed like a kiss. "You are everything I've ever wanted."

Caught up in the moment, Gi-hun let himself be carried away by the soft touch on his lips. In-ho had never hidden his feelings for Gi-hun since they had been together, but this was a completely different level. Knowing what he meant to In-ho moved him deeply but also frightened him. It was so easy to surrender to this, to forget everything and move forward, just as In-ho had ensured.

However, he hadn't realized he was crying. He couldn't say why, just an involuntary reaction. But as soon as a tear slid down his face, it was as if the weight of guilt had fallen onto his shoulders. His hands finally obeying him, he pushed against In-ho's chest, making him break away.

The faces and names of the victims flashed through his mind. People who could still be alive if it weren't for In-ho's obsession. Memories of the violence of that night, the lifeless body falling beside him, the paralyzing feeling he had felt. For a moment, the room smelled of blood, and Ga-yeong's face appeared. Forcing his mind to exclude any feelings he might have now. He feared In-ho's reaction to being pushed away, but understanding Gi-hun's distress, he stepped back, not resuming contact.

"I didn't know what he was going to do," In-ho said, and Gi-hun could only understand it as referring to Gong Yoo's situation. "I knew he would try something, but if I had known it would involve your daughter, I would never have let it happen."

Knowing that Ga-yeong's kidnapping hadn't been planned by In-ho was a relief, but he had still taken advantage of the situation, leaving her almost to die at the hands of that sadist. And none of that justified the deaths of those people.

"The mask... why did you let me see it?" His voice was low and trembling. If In-ho had made so much effort trying to hide the truth, why would he risk letting Gi-hun see the mask again?

"I wasn't sure if you would remember, and even if you didn't, I wanted you to see at least a part of me. The real me."

The real In-ho. That was the complete truth. A man who had spent years searching for a purpose, until he finally found one. And the purpose is me, Gi-hun thought. The thought was terrifying. Countless people had had to die until he finally stopped. But it was also powerful to be the object of such deep affection from someone. Still, Gi-hun knew that deep down in his heart, he couldn't continue living like this.

"I'm sorry... I..." He tried but couldn't form coherent sentences to express what he was feeling.

"He had every reason to hate him, to fear him, to avoid him. But Gi-hun had learned the hard way that love was a stronger emotion than he had ever thought. Yet, he also couldn't ignore everything he knew now. It was a fact that In-ho would not kill again, but that wouldn't erase all the things he had done in the past. He wouldn't be able to live with that weight on his conscience."

"Gi-hun remained there, staring at In-ho as if time had frozen for a cruel instant. The sounds of the street seemed to cease for a moment, and the air carried that heavy humidity that weighed on the lungs. It was as if the world was waiting for his answer—the conclusion of something that could never have a simple ending."

He took a deep, trembling breath. Each word seemed stitched with pain, and his eyes shone with the contained burning tears about to fall.

"I…" Gi-hun began, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible. "I loved you… I still love you. That's what destroys me. No matter what you did… no matter how many times I try to forget. I can't. Even after everything you told me."

In-ho said nothing. He just watched, his eyes darkened by a gentle sadness, his arms relaxed at his sides, as if accepting every blow those words delivered.

"But I also can't… live with this." Gi-hun swallowed hard, finally letting the tears spill down his cheeks. "I close my eyes, and I see the bodies, I hear the screams… I see you. I wonder if any part of you… any part of the man who held me when I broke down, still exists. Because I can't… I can't pretend anymore that all of this is normal. That I can love you despite everything."

He brought one hand to his face, as if trying to hide the shame of his own heart. In-ho took a hesitant step forward, but stopped when he saw Gi-hun's gaze harden for a second.

"I won't tell anyone," Gi-hun said, his voice is firmer now, even though it was choked with emotion. "I won't report you, or expose you. This is pure selfishness. But at the same time, I just… can't continue. We both know we have no future. And I… won't seek you out anymore."

The silence that fell between them was thick, dense, like a fog between shattered hearts. In-ho remained still, absorbing each word with the same serenity of someone watching a sentence being read—a sentence he probably already knew he deserved.

"I don't regret what I did," In-ho said finally, with an unsettling calmness, his eyes fixed on Gi-hun's. " Because to me, that was what felt right. But now, I have no more justifications. I only have you."

Gi-hun bit his lower lip, stifling a sob. In-ho gave a small, melancholic smile, the kind of smile that only someone broken could give.

"And if regretting my crimes is the path to your forgiveness, then I will do it. And if you won't seek me out anymore… then I will stay where you can always find me."

Hwang In-ho surrendered himself to the police. The next day, upon crossing the gates of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, he placed his badge and gun on the table, his voice firm as he demanded his own arrest on the charge of being The Taker. The incredulity etched on the officers' faces was palpable at such an absurd confession. However, the moment In-ho began to dissect each crime with intimate details, information that even the police investigations had failed to uncover, disbelief gave way to the urgency of preventative detention.

The news swept through Seoul like wildfire across the prairie. By noon, every precinct echoed with In-ho's audacious act. The former task force of The Taker case, upon receiving the news, reacted with vehement disbelief, dismissing it all as an elaborate setup. Before any suspicion of complicity could fall upon them, In-ho's calm voice resonated during the interrogation, declaring his solitary actions.

By the second day, the tabloids were already feasting on the morbid revelation. Sensational headlines plastered newspapers, invaded television programs, and saturated the radio waves with In-ho's name. “Renowned Police Detective Actually Famous Serial Killer?”, “Gong Yoo or Hwang In-ho: Who Wears the Mask of Guilt?”, and “The Taker: Unmasked” Gi-hun’s home became a constant target for reporters, a siege on his privacy. Slowly, he erected a barrier of indifference, and the harassment gradually subsided.

The interrogation stretched for nearly a week. Almost five years of dark operations and seven terrifying crimes demanded an exhaustive search for every sordid detail that In-ho, surprisingly, made no effort to conceal. Gong Yoo remained detained on charges of homicide and kidnapping, but the shadow of his sentence lessened with In-ho's confession.

In-ho transferred all his possessions to Gi-hun’s name, who left the apartment laden with painful memories as quickly as he could, finding refuge in a modest flat. Every corner of their former home screamed the bitterness of what their shared life had been and would never be, a constant echo of betrayal and love. Furthermore, the place was quickly sealed off for police investigations. Ga-yeong was sent back to the United States, spared the emotional storm raging through Seoul. Her eyes held a confused sadness, a disappointment not only for her growing affection for In-ho but also for the sight of her father in tatters. And miserable was the word that best described him.

Also summoned for questioning, Gi-hun’s involvement in the crimes was scrutinized. But, unlike In-ho, he remained silent, without even offering a defense. Innocence shielded him from formal charges, but the suspicious gaze of the police lingered on him, a constant reminder of his connection to the killer.

The reunion with his former police colleagues took place weeks later, a weight of shame on his shoulders as he faced them. Dae-ho and Young-mi bore the recent marks of tears, disbelief still fresh on their faces. Hyun-ju was the only one, besides Gi-hun, to confront In-ho. Her fury erupted in shouts and accusations, demanding explanations for the web of lies In-ho had woven for years. In-ho’s response came with the calm and serenity that characterized him in delicate matters. Hyun-ju sought closure, a statement that would paint In-ho as a callous sadist, allowing them all to move on. But, just like Gi-hun, she found no solace, remaining trapped in the same pain.

No-eul seemed the most distant, her neutral facade concealing the turmoil she surely felt. The barriers Gi-hun had once broken down now stood insurmountable, and she had exponentially distanced herself from the rest of the team. Still, words of consolation were offered, assuring him that he did not deserve such suffering and that a future love awaited him. Gi-hun thanked them, returning to his new home, the gratitude for their good intentions contrasting with the emptiness in his chest. Even the confusing message from Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok, about there being plenty of fish in the sea, was received with a bitter smile. Deep down, he knew his heart bore incurable scars.

As soon as visits were allowed, Gi-hun was the first in line. This would be his first and only visit. He would keep his promise not to seek out In-ho again, whether out of self-preservation or shame, but he needed to do this, at least once. As they sat facing each other, the cold and professional mask In-ho wore with the officers melted into a smile laden with undeniable love. Gi-hun’s heart skipped a beat, surprised by the intensity of the feeling emanating from the other man.

Their conversation flowed within the allotted time, trivialities and silences heavy with meaning filling the space between them, as if one of them facing life imprisonment was a mere formality. It was a painful paradox to note that, despite everything, In-ho’s love for him remained intact. But that was the limit imposed by the unforgivable truth, a boundary Gi-hun would have to learn to live with.

No matter how much he searched, Gi-hun knew he would never be loved that way again. No one would surrender to the police driven by remorse for hurting him. No one would accept life imprisonment for the unbearable thought of losing him. No one but In-ho, who had found a greater purpose in his love, willing to sacrifice his own life for Gi-hun.

Gi-hun had always idealized love as a simple, commonplace feeling. Kisses, hugs, shared time. Hwang In-ho, in his brutality, unveiled the deepest layers of love. A love that could be ugly and, paradoxically, beautiful. Bloody, yet still capable of warming the soul. Wrong, yet, in its twisted essence, right for them.

There must have been something irrevocably wrong with Gi-hun, because, amidst the shadow of the deaths, the victims, and the spilled blood, he carried the somber certainty that he would never love another person with that intensity.

Of the few truly significant events that transpired in his life after In-ho's imprisonment, Jun-ho's private summons stood out. Unlike the rest of the team, Gi-hun was at a loss for how to meet Jun-ho's gaze. The younger brother's admiration for In-ho had been evident; In-ho was the role model Jun-ho aspired to emulate. Consequently, Gi-hun could only imagine the depth of betrayal Jun-ho must have felt upon discovering the truth."

"They arranged to meet somewhere in Ssangmun. Gi-hun couldn't pinpoint the exact location, but without questioning the peculiar rendezvous, he drove there."

"Jun-ho was waiting alone, dressed in the same familiar clothes Gi-hun always saw him in, his eyes fixed on the ground. Only after Gi-hun parked and approached did the younger detective finally acknowledge his presence. As anticipated, Jun-ho appeared to be in a state mirroring Gi-hun's own recent despair: dark circles underlining his eyes, a morbid, lifeless expression etched on his face, and a palpable neglect of basic self-care in deference to his suffering."

"Slowly, Gi-hun had begun to piece himself back together, returning to a semblance of his 'normal' life, knowing deep down that it was what In-ho had ultimately wanted for him. And while it wasn't easy, it certainly appeared far worse for Jun-ho."

"They greeted each other with a reserved nod, like two acquaintances who hadn't crossed paths in a long time. Gi-hun expected Jun-ho to broach the reason for their meeting, the elephant in the room that had brought them to this unlikely place. However, Jun-ho didn't seem ready to speak. Instead, he gestured for Gi-hun to follow him as he turned into a narrow alleyway near their initial meeting spot."

"The alleyway soon twisted into a cramped lane, and before long, they were navigating a confusing labyrinth of interconnected passages that Gi-hun knew he wouldn't be able to retrace on his own. Yet, the place held a strange, unsettling familiarity, the kind that flickers at the edge of memory without ever quite solidifying."

"They continued walking in silence for a while, the only sounds their echoing footsteps and the distant hum of the city, until Jun-ho abruptly stopped in a particularly narrow and foul-smelling passage. Surprisingly, this cramped space seemed marginally cleaner than the others they had traversed, and Gi-hun wondered if this grim location had been chosen deliberately or stumbled upon by chance. Before he could voice his question, his eyes fell upon a large, dark stain on the ground."

"Initially, he would have dismissed it as ordinary grime, but upon closer inspection, he noticed the distinct, vibrant crimson outline encircling the blackness. It was blood. Looking around, he questioned its origin; it appeared too old to retain such a vivid color. However, as he scanned the immediate surroundings with a newfound clarity, a chilling recognition dawned. He knew this place."

"It was here. This was where In-ho had killed that man."

“And to think, it all started in a place like this,” Jun-ho finally said, his voice raspy, as if unused, and his tone so devoid of humor that he seemed like a stranger compared to the man Gi-hun had come to know in recent months. “Modern romance stories are getting stranger and stranger.”

“What?” Gi-hun asked, unsure if the detective was speaking to him or lost in his own grim thoughts.

"Jun-ho turned to face Gi-hun, his clouded eyes finally locking onto Gi-hun’s confused ones. “It’s funny how life twists. One day you’re talking to your brother about vacations and work, and the next he’s locked up, accused of being a serial killer. Quite the change of pace, wouldn’t you say?”"

"Gi-hun bit his lip. It was obvious that Jun-ho was still reeling from the shock, far from recovered. If Jun-ho needed his support right now, Gi-hun would offer it without hesitation."

“I’m so sorry, Jun-ho. I know how you must be feeling, and–” He was cut off before he could finish his thought.

“Of course you’re sorry,” Jun-ho said, the cynicism dripping from his tone. “After all, this is all your fault.”

“This is… what?” Gi-hun asked, startled, the weight of Jun-ho’s words finally sinking in.

“Everything was going well. Everything was going perfectly fine, but you just had to ruin it!” Jun-ho continued, a raw anger beginning to seep into his voice, a fury whose source remained a bewildering mystery to Gi-hun. “He loves you. He did all of that for you, to be with you, and this is how you repay him?”

"The air in the alley seemed to thicken, heavy not only with the stench but with a palpable tension. Jun-ho's words echoed in Gi-hun's mind, each syllable laced with a venom he couldn't comprehend."

“Wait… what are you saying?” Confusion and shock clouded Gi-hun’s voice. He desperately tried to piece together the fragments of this distorted puzzle, but the emerging picture was too monstrous to be real.

"Jun-ho’s gaze intensified, the initial sadness hardening into a cold, calculated fury. “Don’t play dumb, Gi-hun. Do you really think I was that blind? He’s my brother, for God’s sake, and I’m a damn police detective.”"

"The pieces began to fall into place, slow and agonizingly. Jun-ho’s constant presence during the investigations, his strange passivity towards In-ho, his unwavering belief in everything In-ho said, his reluctance to pursue certain leads… it all coalesced now into a dark and terrifying understanding."

“You… you knew?” Gi-hun’s voice was a mere thread of disbelief. The betrayal struck him like a physical blow, sharper even than the revelation about In-ho.

"Jun-ho let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Of course I knew. From the beginning. I saw the signs, the changes in him… and I deliberately turned a blind eye. He’s my brother, I knew it was wrong, but it was my duty to help him get over it, but I also wasn’t going to be the one to hand him over.”"

“And you… you helped him?” The accusation barely escaped Gi-hun’s lips, heavy with horror.

“I believed him!” Jun-ho’s eyes flashed with raw anger. “I believed he could change. That one day he would stop this madness, and we could go back to having a normal life, like it used to be. And then you showed up.”

Confusion washed over Gi-hun again. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” Jun-ho spat, his voice trembling with indignation. “With you, I saw a flicker of hope. He was different, calmer, even happy sometimes. And when I realized, he was trying to frame Gong Yoo for his crimes, I went along with it, because I knew that meant it was finally going to end. I believed you would be the reason he stopped.”

The twisted logic of Jun-ho was chilling. He had witnessed his own brother's horrors and, instead of stopping him, had become an enabler. He had aided his brother despite everything. In a way, the blood of those victims stained his hands as well.

“He stopped, and for the first time in a long time, I thought things were finally going to get better. That is, until you turned him in to the police.” Jun-ho’s tone hardened again, almost menacing, his eyes locking onto Gi-hun’s.

“I turned him in? But he surrendered!” Gi-hun exclaimed, frustration and anger began to bubble within him. “He did it of his own free will!”

“And why would he do that?” Jun-ho retorted, taking an aggressive step towards Gi-hun. “Because he loved you! And because of you, he chose to throw his entire life away.”

“I didn’t force him to do anything!” Gi-hun defended himself, disbelief lacing his voice. “He made his own choice. He knew he couldn’t keep living that way.”

“Oh, of course, the great remorse!” Jun-ho sneered, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I know him better than anyone, and he would never surrender out of regret for what he did. He planned everything so that you two could have the perfect life together, so why couldn’t you just accept him for who he is?”

“Accept him for who he is? Jun-ho… he killed seven people! Seven! Don’t you see that?” Gi-hun repeated, the full weight of Jun-ho’s complicity crashing down on him. Jun-ho wasn’t just turning a blind eye; he was an active participant in this delusion.

“I did what I thought was right!” Jun-ho yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “I wanted to protect my brother! I believed he was getting better! And you… you took that away from me! You put him behind bars!”

“I put him behind bars?” Gi-hun echoed, incredulously. “He was the one holding the knife! He surrendered! This is his fault, Jun-ho, not mine!”

With each denial from Gi-hun, Jun-ho’s anger seemed to intensify, his eyes fixed on Gi-hun with a growing hatred.

“If you had just stayed quiet…” Jun-ho hissed, stepping even closer. “None of this would have happened.”

The silence that followed Jun-ho's accusation crackled with dangerous energy. Gi-hun could feel the raw hatred emanating from the younger detective, a palpable wave of resentment in the fetid air of the alley.

“Stay quiet?” Gi-hun repeated, disbelief coloring his voice. “You wanted me to live a lie? To ignore the crimes he committed?”

Jun-ho’s response was swift and lethal. His hand flashed to his side, drawing his service weapon with a chillingly practiced movement. The cold metal glinted momentarily in the dim light of the alley; the barrel pointed directly at Gi-hun’s chest.

Shock momentarily paralyzed Gi-hun. He saw the raw fury contorting Jun-ho’s face, the pain and betrayal twisted into a dark thirst for vengeance. This wasn’t the Jun-ho he knew, the dedicated officer who had admired his brother. In-ho’s imprisonment had shattered something fundamental within him, revealing a blind and dangerous loyalty.

“You destroyed the only chance he had,” Jun-ho hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger. His eyes were locked on Gi-hun’s, devoid of any trace of their former fraternal admiration. Only raw resentment and cold determination remained. “You two could have been happy together.”

Gi-hun’s mind raced. He didn’t want to believe Jun-ho was capable of this, but the gun in his hand, the expression on his face… everything screamed the imminence of violence.

A bitter smile twisted Jun-ho’s lips, a mask of pain and rage. “You know, Gi-hun… In-ho always said love makes us do stupid things. Looks like it runs in the family.”

The sharp click of the hammer being cocked echoed in the oppressive silence of the alley. Jun-ho’s eyes gleamed with a disturbing intensity.

“Don't paint me as the villain here. This could have been your happy ending, if only you had chosen him.”

Gi-hun looked at Jun-ho, for what seemed like the last time, with pleading eyes.

“So, good-bye, Seong Gi-hun.”

BANG

•

•

•

•

•

•

Our choices shape the path — each act, a stone cast into the lake of fate, its ripples unstoppable. But… what if a single decision, just one moment, could rewrite everything? What if what you just read wasn’t the end, but only one of the possibilities?

Chapter Text

Our choices shape the path — each act, a stone cast into the lake of fate, its ripples unstoppable. But… what if a single decision, just one moment, could rewrite everything? What if what you just read wasn’t the end, but only one of the possibilities?

•

•

•

And if there is another possibility, what would happen?

•

•

•

"I'm sorry... I..." He tried but couldn't form coherent sentences to express what he was feeling.

He had every reason to hate him, to fear him, to avoid him. But Gi-hun had learned the hard way that love was a stronger emotion than he had ever thought. Yet, he also couldn't ignore everything he knew now. It was a fact that In-ho would not kill again, but that wouldn't erase all the things he had done in the past. He wouldn't be able to live with that weight on his conscience.

Gi-hun remained there, staring at In-ho as if time had frozen for a cruel instant. The sounds of the street seemed to cease for a moment, and the air carried that heavy humidity that weighed on the lungs. It was as if the world was waiting for his answer—the conclusion of something that could never have a simple ending.

But maybe, against all logic and reason, they could make it work.

“I love you.” Gi-hun’s voice came out firm, but laden with something raw, too exposed. The verb in the present tense — so simple, yet so absolute — made In-ho’s eyes widen for a brief second, as if he hadn’t expected to hear it that way, at that moment.

“So much it hurts to know all of this.” Gi-hun continued, and the pain in his voice was now visible, thick, like smoke between them. “Part of me wished I had never known… But I also knew I couldn’t live in the dark.”

The words seemed to echo inside him, reverberating louder than he would have liked. Everything he had rehearsed, the speech of detachment, the certainty of the end, the conviction that he couldn’t forgive, seemed to crumble like sand carried away by a gentle but steady wave. He had come ready to break it off, to say there would be no chance that everything between them would end there. But why, then, did it hurt so much just to think about it?

Reason screamed that no forgiveness was possible. How could he forget what had happened? How could he erase the marks The Taker had left on him, not just in memories, but in sleep, in nightmares? And yet, the idea of losing In-ho, of seeing him leave and never return, felt like drowning underwater.

Amidst the racing thoughts, an idea emerged — shy, but firm. Like a lifebuoy thrown into the open sea. Maybe he couldn’t predict the future, nor guarantee he would forget. But there was something in In-ho’s eyes, in the way he looked at him — loving, steady, real — that made him believe, even against his will. In-ho had said he had found what he was looking for, that there was no more sense in continuing the killing. And Gi-hun wanted, desperately, to believe.

“Do you love me?” He asked, even knowing the answer, but he needed to hear it again.

“More than anything in the world.” The answer came without hesitation, direct, as if In-ho had had it ready on his lips for a long time. And still, it took Gi-hun’s breath away for a moment. He should be used to it by now, to the sincere weight of In-ho’s words, but even so, he felt disarmed every time.

“If…” The word got stuck for a second. Gi-hun took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. His mind screamed it was madness. His heart, however, beat so loudly it drowned out everything else. “If I said I could forgive you…, what would you do?”

The question weighed like a confession. He knew what it meant. He knew he would never stop wondering if love was a good enough reason to forgive a murderer. He knew it wouldn’t erase the pain, wouldn’t bring justice, wouldn’t resolve the ghosts he carried. But he also knew that watching In-ho walk out that door, and never seeing that face again, would be a pain he couldn’t bear.

“Anything you wanted.”

And Gi-hun believed him. For the first time, he believed without reservations. In-ho accepted everything — would accept judgment, pain, consequence, exile. He would even accept hatred, if it meant staying close. But what gave everything away, what nearly made him lose strength, was In-ho’s small smile — not of triumph, but of hope. A smile that said he already knew what Gi-hun would choose.

More than ever, Gi-hun knew: In-ho was still capable of doing crazy things for love. But now, maybe for the first time, they would do the right thing.

Together.

“This seems to be the right place.”

After an hour and a half on the road, they had finally arrived. The street was narrow, drawn in tight curves that seemed to coil into themselves. The neighborhood, with its old houses and low posts, reminded Gi-hun of his old district in Ssangmun — although, somewhat ironically, this area felt a bit more welcoming than the street where he had grown up.

The house in front of them had freshly painted white walls, a very noticeable detail as they approached. A small makeshift flowerbed beside the entrance showed a few simple, resilient flowers growing against the dust and concrete.

“Two twenty-two,” In-ho murmured at his side. “It’s the address number Dae-ho gave us.” He stopped close enough that their hands brushed slightly — an involuntary touch that Gi-hun didn’t pull away from.

Three days had passed since the conversation that changed everything — the confession, the plea for forgiveness, the absurd and yet inevitable decision Gi-hun had made. They were there now because of it. And even knowing that In-ho would accept anything without resistance, willing to follow wherever Gi-hun led him, the silence between them revealed what words did not: Gi-hun still had no idea what the other truly thought.

In those days, he had dedicated himself to reorganizing his life. He knew what was coming next would consume much of his time. Ga-yeong had been the first measure — sending her back to the United States was the right choice at that moment, and she could always return once all of this was over.

He had also distanced himself a bit from his friends, preferring to avoid conversations that could bring The Taker case back to the surface. But he knew it would take time for the topic to cool down. Especially since most of them were part of the police force. Gi-hun felt guilty for hiding this from them. In a way, they also deserved to know the truth, after dedicating so much of their lives to it. Maybe one day, he could convince In-ho to come clean to them.

As for In-ho, he seemed unchanged to those who didn’t know. The mask was still there — perfect, indestructible. Even after the confrontation, he continued treating Gi-hun with the same tenderness, the same care as always. But for Gi-hun, everything had changed. He could now see what lay behind the surface: the real man, broken, trying to hold himself together. And as absurd as it seemed, this In-ho — more human, more imperfect — touched Gi-hun in an even deeper way.

Thanks to Dae-ho’s report, they were there to take the first step of what Gi-hun could only classify as the most insane idea he’d ever had. And still, part of him believed.

He knocked three times on the door. The old wood groaned under his knuckles, a timid creak that contrasted with the rest of the house, now visibly renovated with care.

A minute passed. Silence. Then, the crack of the door slowly opened. Behind it, only a sliver of shadow and light revealed the eyes of a small woman — alert and suspicious.

“What do you want?” Her voice was low, firm, from someone who had learned to defend herself with words before resorting to actions.

“Miss Kim Jun-hee?” Gi-hun asked, keeping a calm posture. He saw the subtle change — the tension in her shoulder, the almost imperceptible tremble in the door frame. Her eyes turned into sharp blades.

“Who are you?”

It was a fair question. Two strangers showing up at her door, calling her by name. Gi-hun realized the mistake in their approach too late. He took a deep breath and decided to start from the beginning.

“My name is Seong Gi-hun. This is Hwang In-ho. We’re representatives from the Seoul Police Department.” Beside him, In-ho stepped forward and raised his badge with the precision of someone who had done it hundreds of times.

Jun-hee remained silent for a moment, analyzing them. Her eyes fixed on the badge, on their faces, on the space between them. And then, slowly, her expression seemed to ease. Not much — just enough to leave the door open a few seconds longer.

It was a start.

“Is this about Lee Myung-gi?”

The question came sharp and direct, throwing Gi-hun momentarily off balance. She had got it spot on.

“Actually, yes.” He quickly straightened his posture. “May we talk inside?”

Jun-hee observed them for a moment, her gaze flickering between distrust and resignation, before she sighed and opened the door fully.

“Sure, as long as this isn’t an interrogation.”

She stepped back a few paces, gesturing for them to come in. As they did, Gi-hun was able to observe her more closely. The first thing he noticed was how young and beautiful she was. The second was her belly — pregnant, clearly in the final stages. That was already in the police files. Kim Jun-hee, 26 years old, and eight months pregnant.

Despite the advanced pregnancy, she seemed surprisingly well. She walked without difficulty and didn’t show the exhaustion or pain Gi-hun remembered witnessing in Eun-ji when she was expecting Ga-yeong. Back then, strange cravings came at impossible hours, and he’d drop everything to run to the corner store for strawberries or spicy ramen. Thinking about it now, seeing Jun-hee handling everything on her own, stirred a silent sadness in him — even if it was the cost of a death committed by someone he had chosen to love.

Seeing Jun-hee — someone directly connected to one of In-ho’s victims — was uncomfortable. Strange. But Gi-hun had been the one to suggest they come here. Now, he couldn’t back down.

“Would you like something to drink?” she offered casually, walking over to the small kitchen connected to the living room. “I don’t have much, but I can make some tea if you’d like.”

The house was modest, with only three rooms — the living room/kitchen, a bedroom, and presumably the bathroom. Everything was a bit messy: dishes in the sink, clothes lying around, things out of place. Yet, even so, there was something cozy about the space. It was a place where a child could, in fact, build happy memories with their mother.

“That won’t be necessary. We’ll be brief,” Gi-hun replied, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, aware of the objects shifting inside with the movement. That didn’t help.

Jun-hee pointed to the small couch pressed against the wall, and the two sat down tightly while she settled into an armchair in front of them, crossing her legs with difficulty. She looked relieved to finally be sitting.

“So, what’s the reason for the visit?” she asked with a casualness that felt almost rehearsed. “I thought that guy… The Taker, had already been arrested and the case was closed.”

Gi-hun had to suppress a sudden cough upon hearing that indirect reference to Gong Yoo — or rather, to who everyone believed to be The Taker. In-ho, for his part, responded before the silence became noticeable.

“Indeed, Miss. The case has been closed. But we’re just… tying up some loose ends.”

“Y-yes, exactly,” Gi-hun added, regaining his composure. It was still hard to hear that name without reacting, even though Gong Yoo had agreed to carry the blame. “We’re sorry about your husband, by the way.”

“Don’t be. He wasn’t worth much anyway.”

The reply was so unexpected that Gi-hun couldn’t hide a gasp of surprise. Jun-hee smiled — a dry, awkward laugh.

“Since you’re settling loose ends, maybe it’s good I mention we weren’t actually married.”

“You weren’t…” Gi-hun repeated, more to himself than as a question. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at In-ho, wondering if the detective had already known that. He seemed far too calm.

“Yeah. A lot of people assumed we were, after he died. I never bothered to play the grieving widow, but the media loves a tragic story, right?” She shrugged; her voice now lighter. “In the end, it actually helped. People organized some funds for me and the baby. I used that money to renovate the front of the house.”

Gi-hun felt foolish for trusting the media narrative more than the documents Young-mi had compiled. Indeed, nowhere did it say she was Lee Myung-gi’s legal spouse. Only the note that he was the father of an unborn child had planted that idea.

But before he could apologize or form a more objective question, In-ho took over the conversation again with his usual calm.

“And what exactly was your relationship with Mr. Lee Myung-gi like?”

Jun-hee let out a short sigh, rolling her eyes.

“Honestly? Terrible. We dated for a while, but things went downhill when he started getting involved with cryptocurrency. He put all his money into something called ‘Dalmatian’ and insisted I invest too. Said we’d be rich.” She let out a long, deep sigh — hard to tell if from the memory or the weight of pregnancy. “In the end, we both lost everything. When I found out I was pregnant, he freaked out. Pressured me to get an abortion… but I didn’t want to. I couldn’t do that to my child.”

Next to her, Gi-hun felt a slight tremor. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it seemed that In-ho had reacted to Jun-hee’s words.

“I knew he didn’t want anything to do with the baby, and I wasn’t going to force him to be involved. But sometime later, he just disappeared. No explanation, no goodbye, nothing. Back then, I thought he was dead… maybe from some loan shark he pissed off. Only later did I find out he had received money from that serial killer and was spending like there was no tomorrow.”

Gi-hun swallowed hard. He knew that none of In-ho’s victims were exactly innocent — and even if that never justified their deaths — abandoning the woman carrying his child was something inconceivable.

“It was typical of him to get carried away with any promise of easy money. So, I wasn’t even that offended when he left me for such a large sum.” She let out a bitter laugh, though without resentment. “Anyway, if I had won that money, I would’ve left too. But I’d never have made decisions as stupid as his.”

“I see… and actually, that’s why we’re here,” In-ho said, seizing the opportunity. The mention brought Gi-hun back to reality, forcing himself to focus on what would come next.

“What?” she asked, confused, adjusting herself on the armchair.

“At first, the money collected at The Taker’s crime scenes was classified as evidence, intended to help capture the killer. However, now that he’s been arrested, there’s no need to keep it stored anymore. So, we’re returning the amounts gathered to the victims’ next of kin,” the detective explained, gesturing toward the black bag Gi-hun was carrying.

Knowing it was his turn to act, Gi-hun opened it so that Jun-hee could see its contents: 3.33 billion won.

The truth, however, was that this initiative hadn’t come from the police department — it was Gi-hun’s idea. He knew that nothing In-ho did would ever be enough to make up for the crimes he’d committed, but maybe, at least, they could ease the pain of those left behind. People affected by the deaths could receive what was once a symbol of condemnation — now a chance for a new beginning. No obligations. No returns. No deaths.

When he suggested the idea, he didn’t think In-ho would accept it. After all, most of the victims had already spent the money they received, so he would have to pay a good part of the amount out of his own pocket.

“Will this help you forgive me?” In-ho had asked that day.

“Maybe.” Gi-hun had replied, still uncertain. But it seemed like the best path.

“Then it’s worth it.” In-ho had simply said.

And now, there they were. Offering 3.33 billion won to the ex-lover of Lee Myung-gi, the seventh victim.

“You heard what I said, didn’t you? Myung-gi and I weren’t anything anymore. Shouldn’t you be giving this to some relative?” Her eyes widened when she saw the money, but there was too much distrust in her voice to believe it was real.

“He has no parents. And I doubt distant relatives were as affected by his death as you were. If you want my opinion, this is rightfully yours.” In-ho answered with unusual honesty, and Gi-hun could tell it was no longer a rehearsed phrase. It was genuine.

Standing up, Gi-hun offered the bag to Jun-hee. She, with some difficulty, reached out her hand, taking a few bills. She brought them close to her eyes, rubbing them between her fingers, feeling the texture of the paper. Then she returned them to the bag, as if the gesture made everything more real.

“I don’t even know what to say... this is... thank you.” From the little they had seen of her, they could tell she wasn’t an emotional woman, but up close, Gi-hun saw tears welling up in her eyes. Threatening to fall — but they didn’t.

“You don’t need to thank us. I know you’ll make good use of this money.” Gi-hun offered her a smile, and Jun-hee, with watery eyes, responded with the first genuine smile since the beginning of the conversation.

“Yes… I will use this to give my son a good life.” She said, lightly touching her belly as if imagining what he would be like when he was born.

“You’re going to be a good mother.” In-ho said suddenly. His words were sincere, and his gaze penetrating. Gi-hun could imagine the weight behind those words coming from him, but, unaware of their depth, Jun-hee just accepted the compliment with gratitude.

“And once again… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you very much. To both of you. You’ve changed my life.” She smiled again, her gaze shifting between the two men.

Jun-hee probably would never have any idea how much they really changed her life. She would never know that Gi-hun saw Myung-gi killed right in front of him. Nor that In-ho was the one who delivered the final blow.

Still, there they were — bringing a little light to a single mother with a long road ahead. And if it was impossible to change the past, then at least let the present serve as redemption.

A few days later, they made their second visit.

Even though the case was already quite advanced, and Gong Yoo’s first trial was scheduled for the coming months, the police had not yet processed all the evidence. After five years of investigation, the clues and details were practically endless, so they had to wait until the money recovered from Park Yong-sik’s body was released under authorization.

Given that, Gi-hun was certain that his and In-ho’s plan would still take a long time to materialize — but they were willing to wait.

When they arrived at Bongcheon-dong, it wasn’t easy to find Mrs. Jang Geum-jae’s house. The neighborhood was densely populated, with houses stacked up the hill to the summit. While searching for house number 149, they passed it at least three times before realizing it was a small gate between two larger houses.

Without a doorbell, they had to resort to shouting to call the woman. Gi-hun hesitated at first, embarrassed, but when he realized they wouldn’t get an answer, he began to raise his voice. Still, no one appeared. So, they ended up needing help from a neighbor to call her from the back.

Soon after, a kind old lady slowly approached the gate grille, with a gentle expression and an air of guilt for having left them waiting.

“I’m very sorry, sirs. I was washing clothes and didn’t hear anything… I wasn’t expecting visitors. Please forgive me for keeping you standing here so long.” She opened the padlock still apologizing, in a light tone. “Mrs. Kim said you are police officers?”

“Oh, well, we are representatives of the Department. We’re here to talk with you, if you have a moment.” Gi-hun made sure to introduce himself calmly. She seemed much more receptive than Jun-hee, which surprised him considering her age and the fact that she lived alone.

After accumulating numerous debts, the lady had taken in her son when he lost his own home. From what they knew, the two had lived there since Yong-sik was a child. This reminded Gi-hun a little of himself, and the idea of dying before his mother and leaving her alone caused him a silent pain. He remembered the first time he heard Mrs. Jang — on that radio program — where she sounded completely devastated by her son’s death. And, honestly, he didn’t blame her.

She invited them in, and they followed a narrow corridor to a surprisingly larger house inside. It had a scent only mother’s houses seemed to have, a smell of memory and nostalgia. Without even asking, she offered them two cups of coffee. The two settled on a cramped sofa, while she sat on a chair at the dining table.

“So… how can I help you?” Her voice revealed confusion, and they hurried to clarify.

“We are here because of the conclusion of the The Taker case,” Gi-hun explained, using the calmest tone he could to avoid alarming her. Even so, the effect of the killer’s name on her breathing was noticeable, which became shorter and quicker. “The money collected as evidence will be returned to the victims’ relatives. We came to deliver the amount related to your son.”

Gently, he showed a bag similar to the one they had brought to Jun-hee’s house. Inside, about 700 million won.

Upon seeing it, Mrs. Jang’s face twisted into an expression of deep pain.

“I’m sorry. I can’t accept this.” She said, seeming a bit agitated. “This thing… it’s what killed my son.”

Gi-hun blinked, stunned. In-ho also seemed equally surprised. Would everyone they visited have such unexpected reactions?

“A-are you sure?”

According to Young-mi’s report, Yong-sik had paid off part of his illegal loans with The Taker’s money. However, his 250 million won debt to the bank remained and ended up falling on his mother. Being retired, it would take years for her to pay it off, that is, if the bank didn’t come after her assets first to speed up the process. Gi-hun understood her fear. Still, in that case, she had nothing to lose. Clearly, however, she didn’t seem like someone who coveted material goods — perhaps the complete opposite of her son.

“My Yong-sik… he was always stubborn. I think he got that from me.” She gave an awkward laugh, with a nostalgic tone. “I told him thousands of times to stop with those bets. But he always said that one day luck would smile at him. I noticed his change in behavior early on, but said nothing… he seemed happy, I… I should have known better…”

Gi-hun swallowed hard. That story carried a weight he wasn’t sure he was ready to face, but it was a necessary trial. In-ho, for his part, listened attentively. Under Gi-hun’s guidance, they had agreed that In-ho should maintain contact with the victims’ families at a minimum. They didn’t think it would change anything but considering what he had done to those people’s relatives, Gi-hun feared the reactions could be too unpredictable.

“I’m sorry for your son,” Gi-hun said gently. The woman seemed on the verge of tears.

“My son was a good person. He was going to quit gambling. He didn’t deserve that fate.” She sniffled, discreetly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Her fragile posture curled even more in the chair, and that made Gi-hun’s heart tighten.

“Even so, after getting the money, he spent over 50% of it in casinos and gambling.”

Gi-hun froze. Mrs. Jang seemed disoriented by In-ho’s harsh comment. He knew all about it — so much that a large part of the money they were delivering came from In-ho himself. Still, it wasn’t the kind of thing you said to a mother who had lost her son.

“Did you still believe he would change?”

Silently, Mrs. Jang seemed to go through several emotions in seconds. First, she looked insulted. Then, annoyed. Finally, she returned to her previous sadness. The lack of arguments in defense of her son probably made her realize it was useless to argue with a police officer with concrete proof.

“It doesn’t matter if I believed or not. He was my son. And I will always believe the best in him.”

Gi-hun felt In-ho tremble slightly beside him — thanks to the forced proximity on the narrow sofa. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on In-ho’s knee. A gesture of comfort, but also a silent warning not to say more than he should about Yong-sik.

“I understand,” In-ho replied simply. And he cast a tender look at Gi-hun’s hand.

“I know you police need to have a critical view of things. And I appreciate the gesture of coming here to bring me all this money, but... it won’t bring my Yong-sik back. Nothing will.”

The conflicting feelings Gi-hun always feared surfaced again. Being in love with someone who caused so much suffering to that lady was painful. And worse: realizing that the money was not enough to help her move on almost reduced to nothing the redemptive purpose that the plan represented.

“If you can’t accept the money, then... please, at least accept this.”

In-ho stood up. Gi-hun watched curiously as he took something from the inside pocket of his coat. It was a pair of thick, black-framed glasses. One corner of the lens was cracked.

The woman let out a tearful sigh, and as soon as she held the glasses in her hands, she broke down into intense, loud tears.

“I-I always told him to replace that damn lens! But he always replied... he said that as long as it didn’t bother him, he wouldn’t change it. Such a stubborn boy...”

She smiled through the tears, while more and more water ran from her eyes. “Thank you so much for bringing me this. It means a lot.”

Mrs. Jang stood up and bowed a few times to In-ho. He, seemingly unsure how to react at first, quickly tried to calm her down, saying it was nothing special. Still seated, Gi-hun watched the scene, shocked. That wasn’t part of the plan. In fact, he didn’t even know In-ho had that item. Still, the mere fact that he thought, on his own, of bringing it and return it to Yong-sik’s mother was deeply meaningful.

Something like pride filled Gi-hun’s chest.

Over the following weeks, Gi-hun and In-ho continued their visits. Each encounter was unpredictable, bringing completely different reactions — some filled with warmth and understanding, others laden with hurt, coldness, or even disdain.

Among the hardest visits was the one to Han Mi-nyeo’s parents. The elderly couple greeted them with harsh expressions and tired eyes, and the atmosphere in the room felt as heavy as the silence between them. They felt nothing but resentment towards their daughter. She had left behind a mountain of debts and, more cruelly, a newborn whom they were forced to raise alone.

“At least it served some purpose in the end.” the father murmured as he accepted the envelope with the money, without even looking inside. Gi-hun swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his chest, but said nothing.

Other cases, like that of Jang Deok-su, were more... empty. He had no living relatives who could or would accept any kind of compensation. Most of his contacts were members of a prominent gang in Incheon, people who kept him around only out of convenience or fear.

And it was during the investigation of Deok-su that a surprising connection emerged: he and Sae-byeok had a shared history. It turned out she had briefly worked for the gang doing marginal jobs until a violent fight ended their partnership. After that, Sae-byeok sought other illegal means to survive.

Although the idea wasn’t exactly aligned with the mission’s original purpose — which was to offer the money to the victims loved ones — Gi-hun couldn’t ignore the fact that Sae-byeok had been harmed by Deok-su. Perhaps, in a way, she was one of the few genuinely deserving of that compensation. Gripped by this moral doubt, he presented the idea to In-ho.

“Do you think this makes sense?” he asked hesitantly, sitting together on the apartment sofa. “She wasn’t close to him the way we imagined... but she was hurt by him. And honestly, I think she’d make good use of that money.”

In-ho looked at him thoughtfully, considering the proposal. He knew how much Gi-hun cared for Sae-byeok but surprisingly didn’t question the idea.

“Okay... But do you think we should send the money anonymously? I have a feeling that if we go in person, she’ll refuse it.”

“Yeah... I thought about that. But maybe if she knows it’s from me, she’ll feel more at ease.” Gi-hun scratched his neck, thoughtful. “I think I’ll write a note.”

“Whatever you prefer, dear,” In-ho replied with a slight smile. The intimacy and silent support between them were becoming more and more natural.

Now, there was only one last visit left. One that carried a different weight from all the others:

Oh Il-nam.

The first victim.

The beginning of everything.

But who would receive the money?

“The only person I can think of is my mother,” In-ho said, his eyes fixed on the scenery beyond the car window. “But knowing her... I’m sure she wouldn’t accept it.”

Gi-hun nodded slightly, keeping his hands steady on the wheel. The car moved through narrow streets still damp from the drizzle that had fallen earlier.

“I thought about that too... and about Jun-ho.” He paused briefly, glancing quickly in the rearview mirror before making a gentle turn. “But then I had a better idea.”

In-ho turned his face toward him, curious though not openly expressing it.

“So... where are we going?”

Gi-hun didn’t answer right away. A small smile appeared on his face, but without any hint of lightness.

“You’ll see.”

Silence settled between them, and they remained that way for the next ten minutes. During the drive, In-ho’s gaze hardened, as if the scenery outside the windows became increasingly familiar. He said nothing — no need to. Recognition came with the weight of someone trying to look away but unable to.

When they arrived, Gi-hun parked in the closest spot to the entrance possible. Without exchanging words, they got out of the car and walked side by side, wrapped in a silence that felt heavier there, as if even the air knew it was no place for loud voices.

The black stone sign displayed, in austere letters, the name Hwaryeohan Memorial Cemetery, one of the oldest and most discreet in Seoul, nestled at the foot of a quiet hill in Gwanak-gu. Surrounded by century-old trees and a reverent silence, the place was known for housing the graves of forgotten public figures and families seeking peace far from the busiest cemeteries in the city. The morning mist still wound among the tombstones, as if time there flowed differently, in a continuous, whispering mourning.

Gi-hun said nothing as they passed through the wrought-iron gates. In-ho paused for a moment, his eyes wandering over the narrow stone paths covered in dry leaves, as if each step was a memory he hadn’t asked to relive.

They followed a narrow trail to the right, flanked by rows of old graves, some adorned with offerings faded by time. Only the sound of their own footsteps accompanied them.

After a few minutes of silence, they stopped in front of a simple, polished, and discreet tombstone, with the name Kim So-yeon delicately engraved, just above a brief inscription in Korean: “Loving daughter, wife, and mother.”

In-ho stood still, his eyes fixed on the stone. He said nothing. He just took a deep breath.

“Why are we here?” he asked, still not taking his eyes off.

“I thought you already knew the reason,.” Gi-hun replied, also staring at the grave.

Beside the tombstone, there was a photo of her — very similar to the one In-ho kept framed in the apartment. She was beautiful. She had long hair and a joyful smile on her face, holding a bouquet. She looked like someone who had lived a happy life.

“But why does it have to be her?” In-ho sounded troubled. In many of their conversations, he had admitted it had been a long time since he last visited that grave. Perhaps the weight of having committed so many crimes in his name had kept him away from that place. It was almost a miracle that he had agreed to come here now — and willingly.

“To put an end to this, once and for all, we have to go back to where it all began.”

From the bag that should be filled with bills, Gi-hun took out a bouquet of white roses. He didn’t know if In-ho was familiar with the symbolism of the flowers, but white roses usually represented new beginnings. Renewal. Forgiveness.

“I think she deserves an apology.”

In-ho looked at the bouquet, impassive, before taking it with both hands and kneeling in front of the tombstone.

“So-yeon... I’m sorry it took me so long to come. I’ve been busy these past few years.”

Gi-hun had to force himself not to react to the mention of “busy.” In-ho’s face was unreadable, but the tone of his voice carried the same emotional weight as the day he revealed the whole truth to him.

“You know I’m not someone who regrets easily. And even though I don’t feel empathy for those people... it wasn’t right to blame the deaths on your behalf. I’m sorry. You were too good for this world, so I’m glad you didn’t have to see this side of me.”

He sighed deeply and, gently, placed the bouquet on the grave.

“However, I think I’m finally free from those chains of the past. I met someone. Someone who made me see the world again the way you taught me.”

Gi-hun smiled, touched. He knew he would never be able to change the past — nor how In-ho saw it. But they were there. And they could change the present. Together.

Before embarking on these visits, Gi-hun still harbored doubts about whether he could forgive him for everything. However, in recent days, he had seen sides of In-ho that he might never have known if he had chosen to remain ignorant. Like when he praised Jun-hee, perhaps remembering his own ex-wife, or when he had the consideration to return such a special item to Yong-sik’s mother.

Things that should have pushed him away... only bound him even more to that dangerous love he couldn’t — and perhaps didn’t want to — escape.

When he finished, In-ho looked at him, still kneeling. Without saying a word, he took Gi-hun’s left hand and placed a chaste kiss between his fingers.

Trembling with the obvious implication, Gi-hun also chose silence. And they remained that way until In-ho stood up, and they faced each other. His response came with an intense kiss on the other’s lips — sealing, thus, the fate of both.

And they would go all the way.

A few months later

“Okay, just one more photo!”

The photographer said enthusiastically, and all the guests held their poses and smiles, hoping to look stunning in the couple’s album.

In the center of the group, the bride and groom were squeezed between friends and family, just as they had imagined. Gi-hun, impeccable in a white suit with an amaranth pinned to his blazer, smiled broadly, even though the flashes almost blinded him. Beside him, In-ho wore an elegant black suit, and although his smile was more restrained, there was a visible sparkle in his eyes — full of love.

Jun-ho tried to hide the huge smile threatening to escape, while Mrs. Park discreetly wiped away tears of joy that nearly ruined her makeup. Ga-yeong stood between the two newlyweds, carefully holding the spring bouquet, which perfectly matched the wedding palette. Next to her, Eun-ji and her husband posed elegantly. Despite old disagreements, Gi-hun had insisted on inviting her to be a bridesmaid, and she fulfilled the role with dignity.

Next to Gi-hun, the couple Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong exchanged knowing smiles. The two had argued over who would wear the suit at the ceremony, but Ji-yeong had given in after falling in love with an orange dress she found online. Sae-byeok, for her part, wore the suit with casual confidence. Ali and his wife also posed proudly, wearing traditional formal attire from Pakistan — a tribute to their roots that added a special touch to the ceremony.

Jung-bae and his wife stayed at the edge of the photo since he had been late, as usual. Even though he was the groom’s best friend, no one gave up a spot for the one who made them wait because he “urgently needed to go to the bathroom.”

On In-ho’s side, the task force colleagues took their places. Young-mi smiled shyly, wearing a soft yellow dress. Dae-ho, with his usual enthusiasm, almost took up half the frame with his light blue suit and expansive gestures. Hyun-ju, the most elegant, wore a sophisticated red dress that still respected the event’s color palette. With her high heels, she was the tallest figure in the group. No-eul, dressed in a modest green dress, still smiled sweetly at the camera, capturing the moment’s importance.

After a few poses and extra instructions, the main photographer finally released them to enjoy the party.

The group quickly dispersed. Some headed to the buffet, others went for drinks, and some enthusiastically hit the dance floor. Even though it was his own wedding, Gi-hun stopped in the middle of the hall, looking around, a bit lost. The whole afternoon had been hectic, filled with last-minute fixes, hugs, and photos. His previous ceremony, with Eun-ji, had been much simpler, but now he understood how complicated weddings could be. With everything finally in order, he wondered: what would he do at his own wedding party?

“I can’t believe the trip to Busan was postponed because of your honeymoon.” Ga-yeong appeared, grabbing his hand and pretending to huff. Her flared pink dress matched perfectly with her father’s white suit — since she had accompanied him down the aisle.

“Don’t worry so much about that. As soon as we get back, we can pick a new date,” Gi-hun replied, looking for confirmation from In-ho, who nodded positively.

“A new date after her semester ends.” Eun-ji appeared from behind, crossing her arms and wearing a stern expression. “You’ve already missed too many school days, young lady. No trip until the semester is over.”

“Awww, mom...” Ga-yeong rolled her eyes but soon walked toward the buffet with her mother and stepfather. Gi-hun laughed to himself, barely able to wait for the next family trip.

In-ho made a move to approach and say something but was interrupted by Ji-yeong, who showed up with a plate piled high with food.

“Seriously, this is amazing! I don’t know where you found this catering crew, but this is unreal,” she exclaimed between bites of a mini sandwich.

“Ji-yeong, try to behave, please,” Sae-byeok arrived shortly after, with her younger brother, Cheol, beside her. The boy was carrying a small plate with some snacks.

“My sister said you guys haven’t eaten yet, so I brought this for you.” Cheol lifted the plate with effort, and even without hunger, Gi-hun bent down to take one.

“Thank you very much, young man.” He smiled, and Cheol looked visibly proud of his initiative. Seeing this, In-ho also grabbed a snack, smiling at the boy.

Together with Jung-bae’s daughter, Kang Cheol had brought the rings to the altar. It was a lovely moment, especially when the boy got embarrassed by the flood of photos Ji-yeong took with her phone.

Sae-byeok then discreetly approached Gi-hun, shaking a card between her fingers. Her eyes were serious, but there was something warm in the way she leaned in to speak to him.

“I received your gift.” Sae-byeok said, moving closer and flicking a small card between her fingers. On it, a simple handwritten phrase: “This time, you won’t have to steal my wallet.” A direct reminder, without any embellishment, but powerful enough to leave no doubt about who had sent it.

“Oh, really? Glad you liked it.” Gi-hun replied, with a smile, half restrained, half amused, but that showed how sincere the gesture had been.

Sae-byeok just rolled her eyes, as she always did when caught being emotional, but even so, a spark of gratitude lingered in her gaze. “Just don’t expect a very extravagant wedding gift, okay?”

Gi-hun laughed again, and she stepped away, with Ji-yeong and Cheol running back to the buffet, excited to fill their plates once more.

In-ho murmured that he was going to get a drink, bidding Gi-hun farewell with a light kiss, which nonetheless made his husband’s heart beat faster.

Left alone, he allowed himself to observe the party in its entirety.

It was already night, and the lit lights created a cozy contrast with the surrounding nature. The wooden floor of the dance floor, the rustic arrangements, the white fabrics hanging, and the clinking glasses — everything was exactly as they had planned.

In the middle of the outdoor floor, a crowd was dancing.

Hyun-ju and Young-mi were doing rehearsed steps of some choreography he didn’t know, soon joined by Ga-yeong, who seemed to know exactly the sequence.

Dae-ho laughed loudly at the bar, filling Jung-bae’s glass with soju as if it were water, and the two were discussing some navy memories, too drunk to notice their own lack of awareness.

On the other side, No-eul just shook her head, sipping beer while sighing.

Ali’s family was serving themselves at the buffet, carefully choosing what seemed most familiar, and Gi-hun felt a silent pride that they had taken care to make the menu accessible to everyone.

In-ho returned with two glasses of champagne. The golden shine of the liquid contrasted with the darkness of the night, and although Gi-hun had never been a fan of the drink, he accepted it gladly.

They toasted. The sound of the glass clinking echoed briefly between them, followed by a quick sip.

The drink burned less than soju but still left a warm trail to the stomach.

And when Gi-hun looked to the side, he saw In-ho watching him silently.

The music suddenly changed, and an excited chorus arose from the dance floor.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “Is there something on my face?”

“I love you.”

The phrase caught him by surprise. Simple, direct, disarming. Gi-hun felt the air leave him for a moment. In-ho had always been unpredictable — sometimes intense, sometimes reserved, always contradictory — but never fake, at least not anymore.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of that confession. And when he looked into those dark eyes, he could no longer remember the coldness with which he had met him, the threat he had once represented.

“I love you too.” he finally replied, his voice trembling with emotion.

The kiss that followed was sweet, silent, intimate.

No audience was needed. It was just theirs.

A symbol of everything they had faced, everything they had forgiven, everything they had rebuilt. And there, however fleeting, Gi-hun felt complete. When they pulled apart, still with their lips slightly parted, they noticed Jun-ho beside them.

The man held his champagne glass and looked at them with a light smile on his lips.

“Sorry to interrupt. Mom finally stopped crying and started drinking. I don’t think she ever imagined she’d attend one of her sons’ weddings this soon.” He said, drawing a discreet laugh from In-ho.

“I still hadn’t gotten to congratulate you.”

The Hwang brothers briefly hugged, but it was the kind of hug that said more than any words could. Gi-hun watched them fondly, admiring the closeness between them — something he himself had never had as an only child.

When Jun-ho turned to him, Gi-hun extended his hand, expecting a formal greeting.

But instead, he was pulled into a tight hug. Surprised, he returned the gesture.

And it was there, in the middle of the hug, that he heard, in an almost inaudible tone:

“Thank you.”

The voice was low but carried something that sent a chill through him. It wasn’t just a simple thank you. It was something more, almost sounding... relieved?

Gi-hun froze for a moment.

“Really... thank you very much.” Jun-ho repeated, before stepping away as quietly as he had arrived.

Gi-hun followed him with his eyes, watching him return to the family table, and despite himself, he had the unsettling feeling that he knew. That he knew everything.

Before he could sink into that unease, In-ho pulled him out of his thoughts.

“I think it’s time we join them,” he said, intertwining his fingers with Gi-hun’s, pointing to the guests.

I walk towards you

Connecting two worlds

“Wait… you know this song?” Gi-hun asked, already being pulled to the middle of the dance floor, where they left their empty glasses aside.

My red gaze

“Not really,” In-ho replied with a crooked smile. “But it’s our party, so we should enjoy it.”

Even though the music’s rhythm was upbeat and pulsing, In-ho surprised him by taking a waltz stance — one hand on his waist, the other intertwined with his.

Gi-hun sighed and placed his free hand on In-ho’s shoulder.

I walk towards you

Until reaching the new world

As they slowly spun in the center of the floor, surrounded by friends, laughter, and soft lights, Gi-hun felt the memory of the past slowly dissolve.

The deaths. The blood. The reason.

Everything began to fade away, being slowly replaced by the now. By presence. Bye,

And even though he knew, deep down, that the man he had married carried shadows that would never disappear… he accepted it.

Because if In-ho had to kill them all again just to live that moment, he would.

And Gi-hun would forgive him.

He would love him.

He would choose him.

Forever.

My white fangs.