Ji-hoon stood in the conservatory, his fingers tapping lightly on the arm of the chair. His mind, still swirling with the revelations from Ji-eun, felt fragmented, like a shattered mirror he couldn't piece together. He had just learned more than he had ever anticipated: about Siwan, about his mother's sacrifices, about the lies that had bound their lives in a web too intricate for him to see. But despite the storm of emotions crashing against his ribs, one thing was clear—he could not stay still anymore. Not with everything he now knew.
The door to the conservatory had closed behind Ji-eun, and the air in the room had grown thick, almost suffocating, as the weight of their conversation lingered. Ji-hoon could feel it pressing in from all sides—the truth, so brutal and unforgiving, left no space for him to hide anymore. He thought about his mother, about the life she had given him, about the love she had poured into every note, every melody, every gesture that had shielded him. She had fought for him, even in the face of darkness, and he had failed her. The guilt gnawed at him, pulling at the seams of his resolve.
But no more.
He couldn't change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. What was done was done. The most painful part of it all wasn't the loss of his mother—it was the realization that he had been too blind to see the danger around him. Too wrapped up in his own world to recognize the signs of betrayal. That was the part that stung the most. He had trusted Siwan. He had believed in him, in a way that now felt almost laughable. The man who had acted as a father figure, a mentor, a protector, was the very same man who had been orchestrating the nightmare that had stolen everything from him.
Ji-hoon's fingers twitched as his mind raced. He had to do something. There was no going back now. His mother's death had been no accident; it had been a planned, calculated move to keep him in the dark, to protect him from a truth that would destroy him. But she hadn't been able to protect him forever.
The soft sound of footsteps outside the room snapped him from his thoughts. He froze, listening intently. It was faint at first, but then he could hear the distinct rhythm of someone approaching. His heart rate quickened, a spark of suspicion igniting within him. Who was it this time? Was it Siwan, coming to finish what he had started? Or was it someone else, someone who had been watching him all along?
The door opened, and Ji-hoon's breath caught in his throat as he turned toward it. His instincts kicked in, and his hand instinctively reached for his cane, the familiar weight grounding him as his body prepared for whatever confrontation was about to unfold.
But it wasn't Siwan who stood in the doorway. It was Ji-eun, looking worn, her face pale and drawn. She hadn't left yet.
"I need to tell you something," she said, her voice trembling with an intensity Ji-hoon had never heard from her before. "Something important, something you won't want to hear, but it's something you need to know."
Ji-hoon stiffened, his mind racing. He didn't know if he was ready for another round of revelations, but he also couldn't ignore her. His breath caught, his eyes narrowing as he steeled himself.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with the sharpness of someone who had been through too much already. "You've already said enough, Ji-eun."
She stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind her, and for a moment, Ji-hoon wondered if she had come to offer him yet another piece of the puzzle he wasn't sure he wanted to solve. She didn't speak right away, instead taking a step closer to him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something else. Something Ji-hoon couldn't quite place. It was like she was hesitant to move forward, as though what she was about to say would change everything.
Ji-hoon felt the tension in the room escalate. The walls seemed to close in around them, the air growing heavier with each passing second.
"There's more," Ji-eun whispered, finally breaking the silence. "About Siwan... about your mother... I never thought it would come to this. But now, I think you need to know the full truth."
Ji-hoon felt a chill crawl up his spine. He had already learned so much, but every part of him told him that this was the final piece. The part that would shatter everything. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. It was as if the world itself had turned against him, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take.
"Siwan wasn't the only one involved," Ji-eun continued, her voice breaking slightly. "There were others, people who were much closer to you than you realize. People who were in on the plan from the very beginning. And your mother... she knew. She knew the whole time."
The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating Ji-hoon's thoughts. His heart thundered in his chest as his mind raced to process what Ji-eun had just said. He had always believed his mother's death was the result of Siwan's machinations alone, but now, Ji-eun was telling him something entirely different.
"Who?" Ji-hoon's voice cracked as he spoke, the weight of the question hanging on his lips. "Who else was involved? What are you saying?"
Ji-eun hesitated before she took a step closer, her eyes filled with remorse. "I'm telling you this because I think you deserve to know the full truth. You have the right to know what happened to your mother. And you have the right to know what Siwan has done."
A shiver ran through Ji-hoon's body as the pieces started to fall into place. The emotions swirling inside him—grief, anger, confusion—crashed together like a violent storm. His mother had known all along. She had known that Siwan wasn't just a mentor or a protector. He was a monster, and yet, she had stayed silent to keep Ji-hoon safe. But that safety had cost her everything.
"Who?" Ji-hoon repeated, his voice low but filled with a desperate intensity. "Tell me. Who was with him?"
Ji-eun's eyes flickered briefly before she spoke again. "I can't say their names, Ji-hoon. But I'll tell you this: they're people you've trusted your whole life. People who have been in your life for as long as you can remember. They were all part of the plan to take your mother down, to silence her, to keep you in the dark."
Ji-hoon's mind reeled. Every memory, every moment with the people he thought he knew, started to distort in his mind. He couldn't trust anyone anymore. He couldn't even trust himself.
"I'm going to make them pay," Ji-hoon said, the words slipping from his lips before he could stop them. They weren't just a promise. They were a vow. A vow to himself. To his mother. To the truth that had been buried for so long.
Ji-eun's eyes widened in shock. "Ji-hoon—"
"No," he cut her off, his voice firm now, hard. "They took everything from me. They killed her. And I won't rest until I've made them pay."
The silence between them was thick, as if the entire room was holding its breath. Ji-eun opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, as if realizing there was nothing more she could say.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The tension in the room was palpable. But as Ji-hoon stood there, resolute, he knew one thing for certain—he was done waiting.
Ji-hoon's hands clenched into fists, the familiar ache of his fingers tightening with every passing moment. His mind was still reeling from the bombshells Ji-eun had dropped. Every word she had spoken rattled his world, shaking it to its very core. He had never felt so betrayed, so isolated, yet at the same time, he had never felt so driven. The anger inside him simmered, hot and insistent. The heat of that anger burned through him, making his veins feel like they were filled with fire, each pulse a reminder of the injustice that had been done to him.
He stared at Ji-eun, his gaze hardening, a sense of finality settling into his bones. He couldn't afford to stand still anymore. There was too much at stake. He couldn't let those who had done this to him walk free. Not now, not ever.
"Do you know where they are?" Ji-hoon's voice was low, dangerous. His mind was already working, already planning how he would take the next step. He couldn't afford hesitation anymore. Not after everything.
Ji-eun swallowed, her face pale as she shook her head. "I don't know exactly. I can't lead you to them, Ji-hoon. It's too dangerous."
Her warning hung in the air like a dark cloud, but Ji-hoon wasn't fazed. Danger was his constant companion now. It had been since the moment his mother had been taken from him. He could feel the danger pulsing through every inch of his body, like an electric current he had long since learned to live with.
"I don't care about danger," he muttered, more to himself than to Ji-eun. "I care about making this right."
His words were sharp, like the edge of a knife. They were cutting through the confusion, through the doubts that had tried to hold him back. He had no room for hesitation now. His mother had died because of the lies. She had died because of the people who had smiled in his face and whispered sweet promises while they were plotting her death behind his back. They had stolen her life. They had stolen the one person who had always been there for him. The one person who had loved him unconditionally. And now it was time for him to return that favor—to avenge her, no matter the cost.
Ji-eun took a step back, a visible war waging on her face. She wasn't afraid for herself—not in the way she was afraid for Ji-hoon. She had seen the path he was about to walk. She knew that once he stepped onto that road, there would be no turning back. It was a path lined with blood, and it would end in darkness. But how could she stop him? How could anyone stop him?
"You have to understand, Ji-hoon," Ji-eun said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The people who did this—they're not just dangerous. They've made sure there's no way out for anyone who tries to bring them down."
Her words stung, but they were true. Ji-hoon had known that for a long time. The people who had orchestrated his mother's death weren't just ordinary criminals. They were powerful, far-reaching, and well-protected. They had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere. They had made sure that the truth stayed buried. But Ji-hoon couldn't care less about how dangerous they were. It didn't matter to him anymore. He had already lost everything, and now, he had nothing left to lose.
"I know," Ji-hoon replied, his voice hardening even further. "But I don't care. I can't just live with this. Not when I know what I know. Not when I know what they did to her."
His mother's face flashed in his mind—the way she had looked at him with love, with concern, always trying to protect him, even when she herself had been living in fear. She had sacrificed herself to keep him safe, and now it was his turn to do whatever it took to avenge her. There were no more choices to make. The decision had already been made for him.
Ji-eun closed her eyes, as though gathering herself for what she knew she had to say next. "You're going to destroy yourself, Ji-hoon. You know that, right? You're not just going after them. You're going after everything that ever mattered to you. You're going to lose yourself in this war."
Ji-hoon's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The fire inside him burned brighter, fiercer with every word Ji-eun spoke. Yes, he knew. He knew it all too well. But he wasn't afraid of losing himself. He had already lost everything that had ever given him purpose. The only thing that mattered now was making sure those responsible paid for what they had done.
"You don't understand," Ji-hoon said softly, but the conviction in his voice was undeniable. "I'm already lost. I lost everything the day they killed her."
The words hung in the air, heavy with finality. It was true. He wasn't just a man grieving for his mother anymore. He was a man who had crossed the line, who had stepped into a world where justice was no longer a question. He had stepped into the realm of vengeance. And there was no turning back from that.
Ji-eun took another step back, her face a mixture of sorrow and guilt. She knew she couldn't stop him. She could warn him, try to make him understand the consequences, but in the end, Ji-hoon's mind was made up.
"Promise me you won't do anything rash," Ji-eun said, her voice breaking. "Promise me you won't let them pull you into this abyss."
Ji-hoon's lips twitched into something that was barely a smile—more a bitter twist of his features. "I can't promise that," he said, his voice low. "I've already fallen in, Ji-eun. And I don't intend to climb back out."
He turned away from her then, walking towards the window, the dim light of the evening casting long shadows across the room. He stood there for a long moment, his eyes tracing the patterns in the glass, lost in his own thoughts. Outside, the world was silent, as if holding its breath, waiting for the storm that was about to come.
Behind him, Ji-eun remained silent, her presence almost a weight in the room, but she didn't speak. There was nothing more to say. She had tried to warn him, tried to reach him. But Ji-hoon was already too far gone.
The room felt suffocating now, the silence pressing down on Ji-hoon as he gazed out at the darkening sky. Somewhere out there, the people who had taken everything from him were still living their lives, unaware of the storm that was coming for them. But not for much longer.
It was time to make them pay.
And when they did, Ji-hoon would be standing at the center of it all, blind but no longer helpless. The light had flickered once, but now it was about to burn brightly—consuming everything in its path.