The city was a blur outside the window of the small, dimly lit office. The rain lashed against the glass, a steady rhythm that matched the thrum of Ji-hoon's heart. His fingers rested lightly on the edge of the table, his cane placed carefully by his side as he leaned forward. His ears honed in on the sound of the ticking clock on the wall, counting down the moments. Moments that felt like a lifetime, as the tension between him and the interviewer in front of him grew thicker with each passing second.
The man sitting across from him wasn't someone Ji-hoon had expected to be involved in his search for the truth. His name was Kim Jae-min, a journalist who had been following the case of Ji-hoon's mother's death ever since it had happened. Jae-min had been persistent in his investigation, and now, after all these years, it seemed he knew far more than he was letting on. The way Jae-min looked at Ji-hoon—his eyes sharp, calculating—told him that this man was dangerous. Not in the obvious, violent sense, but in a way that made Ji-hoon's skin crawl. There was something about him that made Ji-hoon uneasy.
Ji-hoon had come here for answers, but now, sitting in the stark, uncomfortable room, he wasn't sure he was ready to hear them.
"You've been looking into the murder of my mother for years," Ji-hoon's voice broke the silence, low but steady. "What exactly do you know?"
Jae-min leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him as if considering how best to respond. Ji-hoon couldn't see the expression on his face, but he could hear the slight shift in Jae-min's tone, the way his voice softened just a touch, as if he was preparing to drop something heavy.
"More than you might think," Jae-min said, his voice tinged with a certain satisfaction. "But the question is, what do you think you know, Ji-hoon?"
Ji-hoon's jaw clenched. The arrogance in Jae-min's voice made his blood boil, but he kept his composure. He had come too far to let his emotions get the better of him now. "I think I know enough to understand that there's a lot you're not telling me. About my mother. About Siwan."
Jae-min didn't flinch. He simply tilted his head, his voice still smooth and measured. "You've been searching for the truth all these years, haven't you? But sometimes, the truth isn't what you expect it to be. It's not always the way you want it."
Ji-hoon's fists tightened at his sides. "I'm not here to play games with you. Just tell me what you know."
There was a long pause, the tension so thick that it seemed to suffocate the air. Ji-hoon could feel the weight of Jae-min's gaze on him, even though he couldn't see him. It was as if the man was trying to gauge how much Ji-hoon had pieced together on his own. Finally, Jae-min leaned forward, his voice dropping lower.
"Your mother's death was no accident," he said, his words deliberate. "And it wasn't just about her dying for you. It was much bigger than that."
Ji-hoon's heart skipped a beat, the words hitting him like a punch to the chest. He had always known that there was more to his mother's death than what the police had said. He had always suspected that there was something dark hiding beneath the surface. But hearing it confirmed, hearing someone else acknowledge it in such a cold, detached manner, made the truth feel even more distant.
"What do you mean?" Ji-hoon asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Jae-min paused for a moment, as if savoring the moment before delivering the next blow. "I mean that your mother wasn't just a victim in all of this. She was a player. She made deals. She got involved with people who didn't have her best interests at heart. And Siwan… he wasn't just some innocent bystander. He was part of it all."
The words hung in the air, thick and heavy, like the storm outside. Ji-hoon felt the ground beneath him shift. He had suspected for a long time that Siwan's involvement in his mother's death wasn't as simple as he had once thought, but hearing it laid out so plainly made everything feel even more twisted, more complicated. The man he had once trusted, the one who had been there for him in his darkest moments, was now tangled in the web of deceit that had claimed his mother's life.
"Siwan," Ji-hoon repeated, the name tasting bitter on his tongue. "You're saying he was involved in her death?"
Jae-min's lips curled into a thin, almost imperceptible smile. "Not just involved. He was the one who pulled the strings. But he wasn't the only one. Your mother's death was part of something much larger, something that you've only begun to scratch the surface of."
Ji-hoon's mind was racing, his thoughts a chaotic mess as he tried to process what Jae-min was saying. His mother, the woman who had protected him, who had sacrificed everything for him, had been involved in something sinister? And Siwan… the man who had been like a brother to him, the one who had always been there, had been playing a role in it all?
It didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense.
"I don't believe you," Ji-hoon said, his voice shaking slightly. "This… this doesn't add up. My mother would never have done something like that. She loved me."
Jae-min didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch out between them, giving Ji-hoon time to grapple with his emotions. The air in the room was thick with tension, and Ji-hoon could feel the anger rising inside him, threatening to break free.
"You don't want to believe it because it's too hard to accept," Jae-min said, his voice calm and unsettling. "But the truth doesn't care about what's easy or what's comfortable. It's messy. It's ugly. And sometimes, it's more painful than you can imagine."
Ji-hoon's hands trembled as he gripped his cane tightly, fighting the urge to lash out. "Why are you telling me this?" he demanded. "What do you want from me?"
Jae-min smiled again, a cold, knowing smile that sent a chill down Ji-hoon's spine. "I'm not telling you this for my benefit. I'm telling you because you need to know. You need to understand the people you're dealing with. And most importantly, you need to realize that the truth isn't going to set you free. It's going to make things a lot more complicated."
Ji-hoon could feel the weight of those words, the cold truth settling in his chest. His mother's death had never been simple. And now, it seemed that the more he uncovered, the darker and more twisted everything became. He had spent so many years searching for answers, but now that he was starting to get them, he wasn't sure if he was ready to face what he might find.
"I'm done with this," Ji-hoon said, his voice firm, though his mind was still reeling. He stood up abruptly, his cane tapping sharply against the floor. "I don't need your help. I'll find my own answers."
Jae-min didn't stop him. He didn't try to argue or even move. Instead, he simply watched as Ji-hoon made his way toward the door, his steps slow but resolute.
"You'll come back," Jae-min called after him, his voice a low murmur. "You'll come back when you're ready to face the truth."
Ji-hoon didn't respond. He didn't need to. As the door clicked shut behind him, he was left with only the sound of his own breath, the storm outside, and the unshakable feeling that his search for the truth was only just beginning.
Ji-hoon's footsteps echoed in the narrow hallway as he made his way out of the office building, the sound of his cane tapping against the floor marking the rhythm of his thoughts. The heavy, oppressive silence followed him like a shadow, clinging to him with a weight he couldn't shake. The air outside was damp, the city streets slick from the rain that had been falling all day. He took a deep breath, the cool air hitting his lungs, but it did little to clear his head.
Jae-min's words had been a sharp blow to everything Ji-hoon had believed to be true. His mother—his beloved, selfless mother—had been involved in something far darker than he could have ever imagined. And Siwan… the man who had been like a brother to him, who had shared his most intimate moments and supported him through his darkest hours, was somehow part of that world. Ji-hoon's chest tightened as he thought of Siwan, and the anger began to rise again, hot and unrelenting. How could he have been so blind?
The further Ji-hoon walked, the more he felt the weight of the world pressing down on him. Every step felt heavier than the last, the bitterness of betrayal sinking deeper with each passing moment. He had spent his entire life in the dark—literally, of course, but also in a way that had shielded him from the truth. He had been content to believe that the world he had built around himself, the people he trusted, were all good and pure. But now, it was all coming apart, and Ji-hoon wasn't sure how to handle it. The truth was a double-edged sword: it tore away the illusions he had held so tightly, but it also gave him the power to confront what had been hidden from him for so long.
The sound of a car honking in the distance pulled Ji-hoon from his thoughts. His hand gripped his cane tighter, his fingers digging into the smooth wood as he navigated his way down the street. His mind, though, was still racing. How had things gotten so out of control? His mother's death was supposed to be the catalyst for his journey, but it had become something much more. There were forces at work that went far beyond the simple tragedy of a mother's loss. And now, it seemed like he was caught in the middle of a tangled web of lies, deception, and murder.
Ji-hoon paused at the corner of the street, taking a moment to steady himself. His body ached with the weight of everything he had learned in the past few days. The pieces were beginning to fit together, but they weren't forming a picture that made sense. His mother's sacrifice, her death—it was all starting to look like something more than just a random act of violence. It was part of something planned, something orchestrated. And Siwan… Ji-hoon's fists clenched at the thought of him. He had trusted Siwan with his life, and now, he felt as though that trust had been shattered beyond repair.
A voice called out to him from behind, startling him. "Ji-hoon!"
He turned, his heart skipping a beat, his senses straining to place the voice. The familiar scent of rain and the faint smell of perfume lingered in the air as someone approached him. It was a voice he hadn't expected to hear—one that had become so entwined with his memories over the years.
Ji-eun.
She stood a few paces away, her figure barely visible in the dim streetlight, but Ji-hoon recognized her immediately. Her presence, though distant, had always carried a certain weight, one that had left an impression on him even before he understood its significance.
Ji-hoon stiffened, his hand gripping his cane tighter. He had not expected to see her today, and the last time their paths had crossed, things hadn't exactly been pleasant. Ji-eun had always been an enigma to him, her motives unclear, her actions mysterious. And yet, there was something about her that felt different now—an urgency in her voice, a tension that made him pause.
"Ji-hoon, I need to talk to you," Ji-eun said, her voice tinged with worry. "Please. It's important."
Ji-hoon swallowed, the weight of her words sinking into his chest. Everything inside him screamed to turn away, to walk down the street without looking back, but something in Ji-eun's tone made him hesitate. Despite everything that had happened, despite the tangled web of lies and betrayal surrounding him, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow connected to all of this.
"You need to stop," Ji-hoon said, his voice flat but heavy with meaning. "You need to stop trying to protect him. Siwan. He's not the person you think he is."
Ji-eun flinched, and for the first time since Ji-hoon had known her, there was a crack in her composure. She stepped closer, and for a moment, Ji-hoon could feel the weight of her presence, the silence between them filled with something unspoken.
"Siwan…" she started, her voice faltering. "He's not the monster you think he is. You don't understand, Ji-hoon. There's so much more to all of this than you know."
Ji-hoon's brow furrowed in frustration. "Then tell me! I need to know the truth. What is all of this? Why did he kill my mother?"
The words hit the air like a slap, and Ji-eun recoiled, as if the accusation had struck her physically. She took a step back, her expression hardening, her gaze avoiding his.
"I never wanted it to be this way," she whispered. "But sometimes, things are more complicated than they seem. You think you know the story, but you don't. Not yet."
Ji-hoon shook his head, the anger rising again, hot and fierce. "Then tell me what I'm missing, Ji-eun. Tell me why my mother had to die."
For a long moment, Ji-eun stood there in silence, her eyes locked onto the ground as though she were fighting with herself. Ji-hoon could hear her breathing, shallow and uneven, and his senses were on edge, waiting for her to speak.
Finally, she looked up at him, her gaze heavy, her voice quiet but filled with an unsettling sadness. "You need to stop looking for the truth in the wrong places, Ji-hoon. There are things you don't understand—things that can't be explained easily. Siwan didn't kill your mother. But he was involved. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."
Ji-hoon felt the world tilt beneath his feet. Her words were like a wave crashing over him, cold and unrelenting, pulling him under. He had always believed that his mother's death was part of a larger conspiracy, but hearing Ji-eun's words shattered everything he thought he knew. He had spent so long searching for the one person responsible, and now, he realized that the truth was far more complicated than he had imagined.
Ji-hoon stood there in stunned silence, the rain falling around him, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He didn't know what to believe anymore. But one thing was certain—nothing would ever be the same again.