The last Seo-yeon had ever seen Hyun-soo, he was a shadow against a burning fire, a vanishing figure consumed by the fire's insatiable hunger and the din of betrayal. He was a ghost story whispered in the aftermath of a botched mission, an urban legend of shattered loyalty and lost innocence.
Now, with him facing her in the dark, hotly suffocating blackness of the alley that ran behind her apartment building, the yellow-pale moonlight creating long, twisted shadows which capered such as wicked phantasms, he was doubtless, unreclaimable.
He was substance and not fantasy, something material that communicated an icy sternness, opposite the unsubstantial recollection that she had possessed for so very long. He was not her Hyun-soo.
