Vows of Deception

“You’re not the only one who knows how to play this game, Miss Hirai,” Jihyo sneered, her voice dripping with mockery as she leaned against the doorframe. Her smirk was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “I’m just a few steps ahead of you, darling. Dummy.” She rolled her eyes, turning as if dismissing Sana entirely, but just as she moved past her, a voice—steady, but thick with something else—cut through the moment.

“From which part of the plan did you knew?” Sana’s words were laced with desperation, though she tried to keep her voice composed. “Was it my plan to deceive you? Or was it Im Hongjin’s?”

Jihyo stopped in her tracks, her posture shifting. Slowly, she turned back to face Sana, her expression flickering into one of curious amusement. Her arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow lifting in mock interest. “Oh,” she drawled, tone thick with feigned surprise. “You were planning to deceive me? Didn’t think you had it in you, Hirai.” Her lips curled into that same sharp, cutting smile. “And yeah, I know all about Im Hongjin’s dirty little tricks. But now I’m curious…”

She took a slow step forward, her eyes narrowing, and her smirk deepened. “Why did the mighty Hirai Clan decide to partner up with some… mediocre company? One that can’t even touch a fraction of your power. What’s the real game here, hmm?”

Sana’s jaw tightened. She clenched her fists at her sides, trying to hold on to the thin thread of control she had left. But the anger simmered beneath her skin, growing more dangerous with every second. She took a step forward, her movement deliberate, her eyes burning with fury. “You knew?” Her voice cut through the air, sharper now, her anger almost tangible. “Then why did you do nothing? Just sit there, letting them take their heir, letting them drag her into the hands of those fucking maniacs?”

Jihyo’s eyebrows shot up, a flicker of genuine curiosity flashing in her eyes. She tilted her head slightly, as if amused by the fire in Sana’s voice. “And why should I?” Her tone was cold, casual even, as if this was nothing more than an ordinary conversation. “She’s a stranger. A nobody to me.” The gleam in Jihyo’s eyes turned darker, something almost predatory. Her smirk grew wider. “You know, I heard that Hirai Sana was supposed to be just like me. Strong, untouchable, right? But here you are, letting your walls come crashing down over some nobody.”

Sana’s temper exploded. “Don’t you dare call her that!” she snarled, her voice breaking under the weight of her anger. In a flash, her hand shot out, her finger jabbing into Jihyo’s shoulder, the raw fury in her eyes like a storm. “She has a name, Park Jihyo!” The words came out with venom, more than she had intended, and it startled even her. But she didn’t back down. She couldn’t.

Jihyo’s smirk faltered for a moment, surprise flashing across her face before irritation took over. Her grip tightened as she yanked Sana’s wrist away, the force behind it sharp, almost punishing. “Why do you care so much about her?” Jihyo’s voice dropped lower, colder—each word edged with something dangerously close to anger. “Your engagement was never about love, right? It’s just a contract, a fucking deal. Or maybe… your own deal?” Her tone dripped with disdain.

She stepped closer, her face mere inches from Sana’s, eyes narrowing with something unreadable yet cutting. “What kind of sick game are you playing, Hirai?” Jihyo paused, letting the tension stretch, her voice dipping into something quieter, almost taunting. “Or should I call you…”

The next words that left Jihyo’s mouth made Sana weak, her legs nearly giving out beneath her.

Momo stood in the shadows, her arms crossed over her chest as she observed the scene unfolding before her. Beside her, Suho remained still, his posture composed as always. Her sharp gaze was fixed on the two figures a short distance away, their conversation—if it could even be called that—growing increasingly tense. From the way they moved, the way their voices rose and fell in clipped, heated tones, it was clear that they weren’t merely talking. They were arguing.

Sana’s expression was unreadable at first, but Momo had known her long enough to notice the cracks. Pain? Maybe. Hatred? Probably. Fear? That one made Momo's chest tighten. She couldn’t hear what was being said, not from this distance, but whatever Jihyo had just uttered made something shift in Sana’s demeanor. Fear became the most visible emotion in her eyes, stark and undeniable.

Momo had never seen that expression on her sister’s face before. Sana had always been composed—cold, independent, a little too serious at times, but never weak, never vulnerable. The only exception had been that night, when she had kneeled before their father, begging for to help her to help the heir of Imtech, Im Nayeon.

Momo exhaled through her nose, tearing her gaze away from her sister just for a moment. "What age did you start working with my family?" she asked suddenly, directing her question at Suho without looking at him. Her eyes remained locked on Sana.

Suho responded without hesitation, his voice steady. "I’ve been working with your family for almost three decades now. I started when I was twenty-one, Miss Hirai. Why do you ask?"

Momo finally tilted her head slightly, studying Sana more closely. "Have you ever seen my sister look the way she does right now?"

Suho hesitated. "I’m afraid I haven’t, Miss Hirai."

Momo was about to say something else when she felt a faint vibration in her palm. She glanced down, her phone screen illuminating the night. Mina.

Momo blinked in mild surprise. It was late—too late for Mina to be calling her out of the blue. Suho noticed the small shift in her expression, catching a glimpse of the name on the screen before she swiftly answered.

"Mina?" Momo’s voice softened just a little, curiosity lacing her tone. She glanced at the time before bringing the phone back to her ear. "Mina?" she repeated, but there was only silence on the other end.

Faint rustling sounds came through, movements too unclear to make sense of. Momo frowned, calling her name once more. Then, just like that, the line went dead.

Momo stared at her phone for a moment, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What was that?" she muttered under her breath. And yet, instead of irritation, a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

She didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she turned on her heel, slipping her phone into her pocket. "Let’s go," she said, not sparing another glance at Sana. "I know my sister can handle that."

Without waiting for a response, she strode toward the car. Suho followed a beat later, but Momo had already slid into the back seat by the time he settled into the driver’s seat.

Momo cast a quick glance at Suho, noticing how he took a fraction longer than usual to get inside. Something about it made her pause, but she brushed it off. She had more pressing things to focus on. Pulling out her phone again, she began typing a message to Mina, her thoughts now elsewhere as the car began to move.

Mina leaned back against the sofa, tilting her head until she was staring blankly at the ceiling above her. The room was silent, save for the quiet hum of the city beyond the walls, but even that felt distant. In her palm, her phone sat idly, her fingers wrapped loosely around it, yet she hadn’t unlocked the screen for a while now. A deep sigh escaped her lips, heavy and drawn out, as the weight of loneliness pressed onto her chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, or perhaps one she simply refused to acknowledge most nights, but tonight, she could not ignore it. Nayeon still wasn’t home. It wasn’t unusual, not anymore. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Her thoughts wandered, Nayeon’s arranged marriage. Nayeon’s wife. Nayeon’s situation. Mina knew how much Nayeon loathed being trapped, how much she despised having decisions made for her. To be forced into something as permanent as marriage—it must be suffocating. No matter how much Nayeon tried to hide her frustration behind indifference, Mina could see the cracks forming. But at the same time, something about it didn’t sit right with Mina. The arrangement, the people involved—everything felt too deliberate, too calculated. And then, just as quickly, her thoughts shifted, drifting elsewhere. To the Myoui family. To the past. To Momo.

Eight years. It had been eight years since Momo disappeared, vanishing like a ghost, leaving nothing behind but unanswered questions. And now, she had returned, standing before Mina as if she had never left, claiming she never abandoned her. Mina almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Did she want to know the truth? Maybe. Momo had once been an old friend—hadn’t she? But even if Mina did ask, would Momo truly tell her? She doubted it. Whatever reason Momo had for leaving, it was buried deep, hidden behind layers of careful words and half-truths. And Mina wasn’t sure if she had the energy to dig for something that might not even be worth finding.

She let out another sigh, this one laced with frustration, and forced her mind back to the past—to the first time she met Momo. It had been in college, back when Mina was a freshman and Momo was already in her second year. They had met through a dance competition, one that had drawn in students from different universities, each eager to claim the championship title. Momo had been the first to greet her among the contestants, flashing a confident grin that was both infuriating and oddly endearing. They had competed against each other, both pushing themselves beyond their limits. In the end, Momo taking the trophy, while Mina settled for first runner-up. From that day on, whenever they crossed paths on campus, Momo would always greet her—never missing a chance to remind her of their competition, never failing to bring up how close Mina had been to winning, as if goading her into challenging her again.

Their friendship had flourished, but not in a way one would call healthy. As the years passed, they had both found themselves drawn to different people, which had led them into a reckless game—one they should have never played. It had started as something harmless, a way to entertain themselves, but it had spiraled into something neither of them could fully control. Mina clenched her jaw, shaking her head as if the motion could physically rid her of the memories. There was no use dwelling on the past. She was certain Momo had already forgotten about that game either. It was better that way. Always.

Pulling herself upright, she exhaled sharply and brought her phone closer, scrolling through her contact list until she found Momo’s name. Her thumb hovered over the call button, hesitation creeping in. Why is she even doing this? What is she expecting to gain from a conversation with Momo? And yet, despite her uncertainty, she still considered it.

Just as she was about to press the button, a soft knock echoed through the quiet room, pulling her attention away. Mina’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes before a small, hopeful smile took its place. She quickly stood from the sofa, still gripping her phone, her focus now entirely on the door. In her distraction, she didn’t notice the way her thumb accidentally tapped the call button, unknowingly dialing Momo’s number.

Her steps were slow but certain as she approached the door, unlocking it with ease. But the moment she pulled it open, the warmth on her face faded, her expression shifting instantly.

Nayeon stood before her.

There was something unsettling about the way she carried herself—her posture slightly slumped, her head bowed, her eyes downcast, unfocused. Mina frowned, her concern deepening. Without hesitation, she reached for Nayeon’s hand, her fingers wrapping gently around her cold skin. At the same time, her phone vibrated against her palm as the call she had unknowingly placed to Momo ended, but she barely registered it.

Silently, she pulls Nayeon inside, shutting the door behind them. But even as they stood in the familiar comfort of their home, Nayeon didn’t lift her gaze, her mind seemingly lost elsewhere.

Mina could tell something had happened at the Myoui estate. Something that had shaken Nayeon in a way she wasn’t ready to admit. And there was no doubt in Mina’s mind that Sana is involve with it.

Letting out a quiet breath, Mina reached up, her fingertips grazing against Nayeon’s cheek before trailing down to her jaw. She tilted Nayeon’s face slightly, coaxing her to meet her gaze.

"Hey," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"

The moment Nayeon’s eyes finally met hers, Mina knew the answer.

No, she wasn’t okay.

Nayeon’s thoughts were tangled in chaos, but there was one image that refused to leave her mind—Sana’s tired eyes. No matter how much she tried to push it away, it remained, lingering in the corner of her mind. And yet, here she was, standing in front of Mina, being looked at like she was something fragile, something that needed to be understood.

It felt wrong.

But Mina had always known how to pull her back, how to make the weight in her chest momentarily disappear.

Nayeon inhaled shakily before finally speaking, her voice barely holding together. "Can you… make me forget it?"

Mina didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate. She had heard these words before.

Mina didn’t answer. Instead, her hand cradled Nayeon’s cheek as she closed the distance between them.

Their lips met.

Mina’s other hand fell away, her phone slipping from her grasp and hitting the floor with a soft thud. But neither of them noticed.

She cupped Nayeon’s face, deepening the kiss, pressing closer, as if she could take away whatever it was that was eating Nayeon alive.

But Nayeon didn’t move.

Her eyes slipped shut, but even in the darkness, she didn’t see Mina.

She saw  those tired eyes of Sana, again.

A single tear slipped from Mina’s eye, trailing down her cheek as she moved her lips against Nayeon’s—slowly, almost hesitantly. It wasn’t just the weight of knowing that Nayeon was using this to forget, to push something else out of her mind, even if only for a little while. It was the bitter realization that this moment—this exact feeling—was far too familiar.  

Because she had done this before.  

Not with Nayeon, but with someone else. And back then, just like now, she had convinced herself that if she just held on tight enough, if she kissed them deep enough, she could make them stay. Even if only in the moment. Even if it was never real to begin with.

Sana barely noticed the moment her sling bag slipped from her shoulder, landing on the polished wooden floor with a muted thud. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. The air carried the familiar scent of home—warmth, stillness, a kind of calm that should have been comforting. Yet, it was suffocating. It pressed against her chest, thick and unrelenting, refusing to let her breathe. Everything that had happened today clung to her like an invisible weight, each moment unfolding too fast for her to process. It left her unsteady, lost in the whirlwind of emotions she couldn't yet name.

Her fingers curled slightly, tense at her sides. It started with Nayeon acting strange. The same Nayeon who had always been cold, distant, unreadable—the Nayeon who barely spared her a glance unless necessary—was nowhere to be seen today. Instead, there was someone else. Someone whose touches lingered just a little too long, whose voice carried an unfamiliar softness, whose presence felt dangerously close, unsettlingly real.

Sana wasn’t naive. She knew Nayeon too well, knew that whatever this was, it wasn't genuine. Nayeon was up to something. There was a reason behind all of it—there had to be. And yet, that knowledge did nothing to suppress the way her heart had faltered, the way her breath had hitched when Nayeon had touched her. The warmth of her fingertips had burned through the layers Sana had carefully built around herself, shaking the foundation she thought was unbreakable.

The memory of Nayeon's sudden embrace in front of the guests at the Myoui estate was still fresh in her mind. The way the world had blurred for just a second. The way her body had stiffened before melting, before something foreign and terrifying bloomed inside her chest.

Then there was Jihyo.

Sana squeezed her eyes shut, frustration clawing at her throat. Jihyo had seen through her so effortlessly, unraveling her intentions as if she had written them herself. And worst of all, Sana had let her guard down. Someone as meticulous as her, someone who always planned three steps ahead, had been completely outmaneuvered. She had felt so foolish, so small, standing before the Park family's eldest daughter with nothing to say in her own defense. But even that wasn’t the worst of it.

The kiss was.

Sana lifted a trembling hand to her lips, as if she could still feel the remnants of that moment. It had been stolen from her—the one thing she had wanted to save, to cherish, to give to the right person at the right time. And instead, it had been taken by someone she barely knew. Someone who didn’t care about its significance. Someone who had only used it to prove a point, more likely. A bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat, but she swallowed it down, pressing her lips together.

She shook her head, desperate to rid herself of these thoughts.

"Or should I call you…"

Jihyo's voice echoed in her mind, sharp and relentless.

Sana forced herself to move, her steps unsteady as she let her feet carry her forward, unwilling to linger in that space any longer. The weight of the day clung to her like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. She needed to clear her head—needed something, anything—to ground herself before she drowned in the mess she had created. But no matter how many steps she took, the thoughts refused to quiet. They curled around her mind, whispering, taunting, reminding her of every touch, every word, every mistake.

It wasn't until she stopped walking that she realized where she had ended up.

Nayeon's room.

Her breath hitched, her heart slamming into her ribs as her gaze darted around the dimly lit space. For a second, it felt like she had woken from a dream, lost and disoriented. Why? Why had she come here instead of her own room? It made no sense, really. Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing harshly into her palms as she struggled to make sense of herself. But deep down, beneath all the rationalizations and denials, she already knew the answer.

Maybe, in the smallest, most hidden corner of her heart, she missed the way Nayeon's touch had felt today.

Her breath shook as she exhaled, forcing herself to push the thought away. This marriage wasn’t built on love, nor even the possibility of it. It was a cage—one she had willingly stepped into, a sacrifice made with only one goal in mind. To protect Nayeon. To keep her safe from the very people she didn't even realize were her enemies.

But none of that mattered. Because in Nayeon’s eyes, Sana would never be anything more than a prison cell. The one who kept her bound. The one who took away her freedom.

Sana's knees buckled before she could stop them, and she collapsed onto the edge of Nayeon's bed, her body trembling from the weight of everything she had suppressed. The silence around her pressed in, heavy and suffocating, yet she couldn't bring herself to move. Her fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of her dress, as if holding on for dear life, trying to keep the cracks from spreading any further. But it was useless. Then the tears came—hot, unrelenting, slipping down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away.

She covered her mouth with both hands, stifling the sobs that threatened to spill out. She was alone in the house—she knew that—but still, she refused to let herself be heard. Even now, even in her most vulnerable moments, she couldn't allow herself to fall apart completely. Not when she had spent so long convincing herself that she was fine, that she could handle this. That she had control over her emotions. But tonight, the walls she had built felt paper-thin, and all it took was the memory of a single touch for them to start crumbling.

"Why do you care so much about her?"

Jihyo’s words rang in her head, louder than her own heartbeat. The question struck something deep inside her, something she had spent months ignoring. Why? Why did she care so much? Nayeon despises her, that's just it, nothing more, so why does she care so much? 

Her hands trembled as she reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling out a neatly folded handkerchief. The fabric was soft, worn from time, carrying a memory she had never let go of.

The first time she had met Nayeon.

Not when they had been formally introduced. Not when their fates had been bound together by lies. No—before that. A moment only she remembered, a moment Nayeon had long since forgotten. A moment that, no matter how much she tried to erase, still lingered in the corners of her mind, refusing to be buried.

" Here, you seem to need this "

As she stared at the cloth in her hands, a single drop of red fell onto the fabric.

Then another.

And another.

Sana blinked, dazed, as more red bloomed across the handkerchief, staining the white fabric in delicate, crimson patterns. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. The warmth trickling down her lips, the metallic taste lingering on her tongue—

She let out a shaky breath, the sight somehow grounding her. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was stress, or maybe it was just her body reminding her of what she had been trying to ignore all these years.

The next morning, Nayeon was woken up by an early call from her father. It wasn’t surprising—he always called at inconvenient hours, always demanding something. She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, staring blankly at the floor and then at the sleeping beauty beside her, Mina, before finally answering. By the time she hung up, she already knew her morning wouldn’t be peaceful.

Jimin and Jeongyeon were already waiting when she stepped out of the apartment, their expressions unreadable as they escorted her to the office. Nayeon barely spoke a word during the ride, her mind elsewhere, trapped between the weight of yesterday and the dread of today.

When she entered the office, the first thing she heard was laughter—low and sharp, echoing off the walls like it belonged to someone who had already won. Her father was sitting behind his desk, the glow of his tablet illuminating his face. He barely looked up as she stepped in, only sparing her a glance before placing the device down on the table.

“Oh, this is it!” Hongjin chuckled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “We’re finally gaining the trust of the press and the public.” He leaned forward, resting his fingers against the polished surface of his desk. “As long as the Hirai family is on our side, the headquarters will have no choice but to acknowledge us. They know how influential the Hirais are in politics, and now, we’re benefiting from that trust.” His eyes flickered to the tablet again, where an article was pulled up—photos of yesterday’s event, of Nayeon and Sana, standing side by side like a real couple. The image was everywhere by now, a well-crafted illusion feeding the public exactly what they wanted to see.

Nayeon exhaled slowly, already feeling the familiar exhaustion settle in her bones. “What do you want me to do now?” Her voice was flat, uninterested, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Three months,” Hongjin said, his tone carrying the weight of a command. “In three months, you will stay by the Hirai girl’s side. You will act like a devoted wife, just like you did yesterday. Keep up the performance for the public.”

Nayeon tilted her head slightly, a slow smirk forming on her lips, but there was no humor behind it. “And after three months?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but she already knew he had a plan—he always did.

Her father raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed. He stood up, moving around his desk at a leisurely pace until he was standing directly in front of her. Then, he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper as he spoke into her ear.

“I’ll call off the marriage,” he murmured, each word deliberate. “And then, I’ll make sure the world knows that their precious daughter was the villain. I’ll tell them she abused you, molested you, threatened you—every single lie that will take them down. And once their reputation crumbles, all that public trust will shift to us.”

His smirk widened as he pulled back, watching her reaction closely. He was testing her, pushing her to see how far she would go.

Nayeon felt something tighten in her chest. There was a time when she would have flinched at his words, when she would have fought back. But now, she simply stared at him, unblinking, her mind already making calculations of its own.

For a brief moment, Sana’s face flashed in her mind—her pale skin, the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she had looked at her last night when she thought Nayeon wasn’t paying attention. Something in her stomach twisted, but she pushed it aside just as quickly.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

She wanted out. And if this was the way to finally escape, then so be it.

“I’ll do it,” she said, her voice steady.

When Nayeon said she would do it, did she really mean it? The words had left her mouth so easily, but now they echoed in her head like a curse she had placed upon herself. She wanted them to suffer—whoever had locked her into this prison of a marriage, whoever had stolen her freedom and forced her into this suffocating life. She wanted them to feel what she had felt. The hatred. The force. The pain. The suffering. And the Hirais were not an exception. Sana was not an exception.

But as much as she tried to convince herself, there was an ache she couldn't name, a weight pressing down on her chest that wouldn't let her breathe.

Frustration surged through her, and before she could think twice, she let her forehead drop onto the table in front of her. A loud thud echoed through the quiet coffee shop, sending a sharp pain across her skull. The sting barely registered as she bit down on her lower lip, eyes squeezing shut. It wasn't enough. Nothing was enough to drown out the conversation she had just had with her father.

A hushed silence followed her impulsive action, and when she finally opened her eyes, she noticed a few people staring at her, their expressions shifting between concern and judgment. Heat rushed to her face as she quickly bowed her head in apology, rubbing at the sore spot on her forehead.

"God, what am I even doing..." she muttered under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

Her arms stretched out onto the table, and she let her head rest against them, as if curling into herself would somehow make the thoughts disappear. But they didn't. They refused to. No matter how hard she tried, her father’s words clung to her like a suffocating shadow.

The chair across from her scraped against the floor, and Nayeon barely lifted her head before recognizing the presence that had joined her. Jeongyeon sat down with a knowing smirk, setting a steaming cup of coffee on the table. There was something warm in her expression, something that made Nayeon feel seen in a way she hadn't expected.

"What’s up?" Jeongyeon asked casually, leaning back in her seat. "You look like you just lost a fight with a wall."

Nayeon groaned, not even bothering to lift her head. "I think I lost a fight with my own life."

Jeongyeon chuckled, nudging the cup toward her. "Drink this. You got up too early. What did Uncle Jin want to talk about at this ungodly hour?"

Nayeon exhaled, slow and deep. "Beat me up. I honestly don’t know what to think anymore."

The weight of it all pressed heavier against her shoulders. Should she tell Jeongyeon? Should she let her in on the twisted plan her father had laid out before her? But even as the thought crossed her mind, something inside her recoiled. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like the way her father spoke about taking down the Hirais, and yet—she had agreed.

Jeongyeon watched her carefully, sensing the storm brewing within her. Nayeon had always been hard to read, but today, the tension in her body spoke louder than words.

"Say, Jeongyeonna," Nayeon mumbled, finally lifting her head just enough to rest her chin against her arm. Her voice was quieter now, filled with something Jeongyeon could only describe as curiosity. "What kind of family are the Hirais? What do you think they needed from ImTech that made them offer a partnership to us?"

Jeongyeon stiffened, her fingers tightening around her cup.

Nayeon truly had no idea. She had been so caught up in her own resentment that she hadn't even questioned the real reason behind this marriage. The real reason why the Hirais had reached out first.

To protect you from your so-called father, idiot, Jeongyeon thought bitterly.

She wanted to say it. She wanted to shake Nayeon and tell her the truth. But she couldn’t. Not after the conversation she had with Momo. Not after the promise she had made to the Hirai patriarch just a day ago.

Jeongyeon sat on the plush sofa, back straight, hands resting on her lap, her expression carefully neutral despite the tension thickening the air. Across from her, Takashi Hirai sat with his hands clasped together, his gaze steady yet unreadable. To his left, Momo lounged with an air of detached amusement, legs crossed, arms folded as she watched the interaction unfold.

"You must be wondering why I called you here, Yoo Jeongyeon," Takashi began, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made Jeongyeon brace herself. "I’ve heard that you are exceptionally loyal to Nayeon. In fact, you’ve been friends with her since childhood, haven’t you?"

Jeongyeon nodded, her expression unwavering. "That’s right."

Takashi gave a small nod of acknowledgment before his gaze turned serious. "What I’m about to tell you may come as a shock, but I need your word that you’ll keep it a secret from Nayeon."

At that, Momo finally spoke up, her voice laced with mild irritation. "Hey, Dad, shouldn’t you ask Sana first before telling someone from the Im’s side?" She arched a brow at her father, shifting her gaze briefly toward Jeongyeon. "Oh, please, you don’t want to know the kind of sacrifice my sister made for your little friend."

Jeongyeon’s brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?" Her attention snapped back to Takashi, her curiosity now laced with unease.

Takashi exhaled, as if weighing his words carefully. " My daughter Sana… three months ago, she came to us—begging. She pleaded for us to help Nayeon, the heir of ImTech."

Jeongyeon’s lips parted slightly in shock. "Begged you? To save Nayeon? From whom?"

"From your great uncle," Momo interjected bluntly, leaning further back into the sofa. "Honestly, I never thought my sister would be so reckless. She barely even knew Nayeon, and yet…"

Jeongyeon stiffened, feeling an unsettling chill creep into her chest.

Takashi nodded in confirmation. "Sana told us that Hongjin is planning—no, he has already made arrangements—to sell his own daughter."

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched. "The fuck—"

A soft pillow suddenly flew at her face, cutting her off. She yanked it away, glaring at Momo, who only smirked in response.

"No cursing and no violence," Takashi warned, his tone stern but calm, glaring at the both of them. "As I was saying, Hongjin made a deal with one of his men. One billion dollars—that’s the price he placed on his own daughter. We are aware of ImTech’s current financial struggles, the unpaid loans, the mounting pressure. But even that doesn’t justify treating his own flesh and blood like a commodity."

Jeongyeon swallowed hard, her mind spinning. "You’re saying… Sana married Nayeon… to stop this?" Her voice was quieter now, almost disbelieving.

Takashi nodded. "Yes. I won’t pretend that arranging their marriage was the best solution—I see now that it has become a prison for them both. But it was the only way I knew to keep Nayeon safe at the time, being near us, near Sana. And now, I need your help."

Jeongyeon’s jaw tightened. "Help with what?"

Takashi leaned forward, his gaze unyielding. "Sana is determined to dismantle ImTech from the inside. To drag Hongjin down completely. But she can’t do that without knowing every connection, every hidden deal he has made across the globe. And you…" He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "You are the closest and most trusted person within ImTech."

Jeongyeon’s breath felt shallow.

"I am asking you to help my daughter gather the secret information she needs. Think of this not as betraying ImTech, but as freeing Nayeon from Hongjin’s grasp. Once we succeed, we will call off the contract—we will let them both go. And we will ensure that Nayeon can live a peaceful life, free from his control."

Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating.

Jeongyeon’s hands curled into fists on her lap. Her loyalty to Nayeon had never wavered, not once. But now, she found herself questioning everything she thought she knew. Because if what they were saying was true…

Then maybe, just maybe, Sana wasn’t the enemy she had assumed her to be.

And Nayeon—

She had been in danger this whole time, never even realizing it.

So instead, she forced a small smile and took a slow sip of her coffee, letting the warmth spread through her chest, grounding her in something familiar. "I guess you'll have to figure that out yourself, won't you?"

Nayeon let out a deep groan, slumping forward as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Right, but how? Like, I don’t even know where to start—"

"Well, just like what you did yesterday. You were practically claiming her as yours, by the way." Jeongyeon chuckled, her voice laced with amusement as she leaned back in her chair, watching the way Nayeon's expression twisted with embarrassment.

Nayeon buried her face in her hands, groaning once again, this time louder. "Ugh, I know! And it's so embarrassing, you know? I don’t even—"

"What was in your mind when you did that?" Jeongyeon interrupted again, tilting her head slightly as she studied her friend.

Nayeon snapped her head up, glaring at her. "Can you stop cutting me off? And no, I have no idea what came over me or what I was even thinking when I did that!" she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she sank into her seat.

Jeongyeon only grinned. "I think you already have the answer, Nayeon. If you really want to know more about them, about this partnership, shouldn’t you at least lower your pride and get close to your wife first?"

Nayeon stiffened. The words hit her harder than she expected. She had thought about it, of course—getting close to Sana, finding a way past the walls the woman had so carefully built around herself. But it was easier said than done. Because if Sana had walls, then so did she. And maybe, just maybe, hers were even higher.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "I don’t know. I don’t know." Her voice was quieter this time, more uncertain. She shifted her gaze to the side, suddenly hyperaware of the way her heart pounded in her chest, an unfamiliar unease creeping up on her.

"Hey, are you okay?" Momo asked the moment Sana slipped into the backseat beside her. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp, scanning Sana’s features for any sign of distress. The car was warm, yet there was something about Sana's presence that felt cold, distant.

Sana simply nodded, not even sparing her a glance as she reached for the seatbelt and buckled herself in. She let out a quiet breath, her body sinking into the seat as though the weight of the world had finally settled on her shoulders. Momo, however, wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t blind. The expression Sana had worn last night still lingered in her mind. And now, sitting here in the dim morning light, Sana looked even paler than she was last month. It was as if something was eating away at her from the inside.

“So, how was your talk with the Parks?” Momo asked, her voice softer this time. She already knew the answer—or rather, she knew she wouldn’t get one. Whatever had been said last night, whatever weight Sana carried on her back, she wouldn’t share it.

“Good, I guess.” Sana’s voice was barely above a whisper as she closed her eyes, as if that would put an end to the conversation altogether.

Momo arched a brow, unconvinced, but she didn’t push. She knew her sister well enough to understand that when Sana didn’t want to talk, nothing could force her to. With a small sigh, Momo leaned back against her seat, turning her gaze toward the window. The streets outside blurred past, the neon lights of early morning blending into the dreary sky. Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t a comfortable one.

“Your birthday is coming up in two months,” Momo muttered, her tone casual, though there was an edge of hesitation in her voice. “What do you want this year?”

Sana’s eyes fluttered open at that, but instead of responding, she simply stared outside. How could she have forgotten?

“I know you hate your birthday,” Momo continued, as if reading her mind. “You never celebrate it and as far I can remember, the last time we celebrated, it was your twelfth birthday and now you are turning twenty-eight.  Can we, just this once?”

She didn’t turn to look at Sana, knowing all too well the expression her sister would wear—one of disbelief, maybe, but mostly pain. The kind of pain Momo could never quite understand, no matter how many times she asked. Why did Sana hate her birthday so much? What had happened on that day, when she was just twelve, that made her despise it year after year?

Sana remained silent, her fingers tightening slightly over her lap. She could feel it—the familiar sting in her chest, the way her throat closed up, the way her eyes burned with unshed tears. She fought against it, swallowing thickly, before shutting her eyes again. If she didn’t speak, if she didn’t acknowledge it, maybe the pain wouldn’t feel so suffocating.

Momo let out a small exhale, rolling her eyes but not in annoyance—more in frustration. Not at Sana, but at whatever had been tormenting her all these years. She hated how Sana closed herself off like this, how she built walls so high that no one, not even her own sister, could break through.

“Fine,” Momo mumbled, turning back to the window. “Forget I said anything.”

“The ImTechs are really something, aren’t they?” Jihyo’s voice carried a sharp edge of disdain, her words laced with irritation as she leaned back against her chair. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she crossed her arms and one leg over the other, her gaze fixed on the large TV screen mounted on the pristine white wall.

The meeting room she occupied was her private space, accessible only to trusted officers or family members. It was a fortress of secrecy—its glass walls allowed her to observe the outside world, but those beyond the room could only see an opaque blur. The silence within was absolute, the soundproofing ensuring that nothing escaped its walls. A long, sleek table stretched across the center, surrounded by chairs—six on each side—but the one directly opposite Jihyo remained unoccupied. It was intentional. She wanted a clear view of the screen in front of her.

From the far end of the table, a voice broke the silence. “What do you mean by that, sis?” The question came from a woman with long, blonde hair, her sharp gaze filled with curiosity. Park Chaeyoung—known to most as Rosé.

Jihyo’s fingers drummed against the armrest of her chair. “Hongjin’s men tried to chase me last night when I slipped past my bodyguards—”

She didn’t get to finish.

“I told you, Jin is a bitch,” Jimin cut in from her other side, his voice void of any real concern as he scrolled through his phone.

Jihyo exhaled sharply, shifting her gaze between her siblings. Jimin and Rosé—her pillars in this endless game of power. It was their efforts that granted the Hirais invaluable intel on the Parks. It was them who meticulously curated the classified information that even the most seasoned spies wouldn’t dare unearth.

Jimin had a connection within the Hirai Clan’s HR department—an inside man who fed him the whispers circulating behind closed doors. It was through this source that Jimin had long known of Hongjin’s ambitions, of his willingness to sacrifice even his own daughter for his greater schemes. And yet, despite this knowledge, Jihyo had refrained from making any moves. She had her own plans—plans that, in one way or another, revolved around Sana.

Sana.

Jihyo found herself absentmindedly brushing her fingers against her lips.

It was unexpected, how soft Sana’s lips had been—how warm. She had spent years using people for her own satisfaction, but never had she felt anything remotely close to what she did last night.

“Sana,” she murmured aloud, her voice almost distant.

Jimin raised an eyebrow, momentarily halting his scrolling. Rosé, on the other hand, smirked knowingly, arms crossed over her chest.

“All of a sudden?” Rosé teased, her tone dripping with amusement.

Jihyo’s expression hardened instantly. She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “I meant, I met her last night—”

“Oh, we know,” Rosé interjected with a mischievous glint in her eye. She rocked her chair slightly, chuckling. “In fact, it was quite the show.”

Jihyo frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

Rosé’s smirk deepened. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten? It happened just last night. You were quite bold, sister.” She shot Jihyo a playful wink. “That young daughter of Takashi is rather… intriguing. She reminds me of someone.”

Jimin, who had seemed largely disinterested, suddenly perked up at Rosé’s words. “Who?”

“Mina.”

The name alone made Jimin lower his phone completely. His attention was now fully on Rosé.

“Mina?” Jihyo echoed, brows furrowing slightly. “Who’s that?”

Rosé tilted her head, as if pondering how much to reveal. “Just someone I know. She’s the adopted daughter of the Son family. You know Son Chaeyoung?”

Jihyo nodded. “I know of her.”

“Well, what most don’t know is that Mina isn’t actually a Son by blood. She was adopted. Not that she knows, of course. The Sons have treated her as their own, and I doubt they ever plan on telling her the truth.”

Jihyo hummed in thought, but before she could say anything, Rosé leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly. “But here’s where it gets interesting…”

Jimin, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, sat up straighter. “Go on.”

“Sana and Mina,” Rosé began, her voice slow and deliberate, “were born on the exact same date, at the exact same time.”

Jihyo remained still, her expression unreadable. Jimin, however, frowned. “And?”

“Sana was supposed to be the one adopted by the Sons.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Rosé tapped a manicured finger against the table. “The nurse at the nursery made a mistake that day. She accidentally swapped their names on their cribs. So, when someone ordered someone to steal the Minatozaki daughter…” She trailed off, smirking slightly. “They took the wrong baby.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Wait… Minatozaki? That family’s been gone for decades.”

Jihyo exhaled through her nose, the smallest of smirks playing on her lips. “Not entirely.”

Jimin turned to her, realization slowly dawning on him. “You knew?”

Jihyo met his gaze, her smirk never faltering, and gave a slow nod. "Well not the entire story..."

“What kind of sick game are you playing, Hirai?” Jihyo paused, letting the tension stretch, her voice dipping into something quieter, almost taunting. “Or should I call you… Minatozaki Sana?”

Nayeon wandered through the park, her steps slow and aimless, as if she were trying to escape something—someone—or perhaps even herself. But that was impossible. No matter how far she walked, how many steps she took, the weight pressing against her chest refused to lighten. The world around her felt distant, blurred, like she wasn’t really here, just a spectator trapped inside her own mind.

The sky had begun to change, streaks of orange and pink bleeding into the horizon, signaling the end of the day. She had been walking for over an hour, yet her thoughts remained in disarray, tangled and impossible to sort out.

First, she had hurt Mina. That alone was enough to leave her restless, but it didn’t stop there. Mina knew now—knew about her living situation with Sana. And if that wasn’t enough, yesterday’s event had spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the city, plastered across every screen, repeated in every whisper that followed her wherever she went.

"The heir of ImTech, Im Nayeon, and the youngest daughter of the Hirai Clan were seen together at the Myoui family’s wedding event. The two appeared close, and the highly esteemed lawyer was seen pulling Hirai Sana into a warm embrace in front of the crowd. Witnesses, including members of both the Hirai and Myoui families, were visibly shocked by the unexpected display of affection..."

The news went on like that, an endless cycle of words that only worsened the throbbing in her head. It was everywhere. And of course, Mina had seen it. How could she not? It was impossible to miss. Her father must have been pleased—this was exactly what he wanted. Attention. Recognition. A spectacle that would further solidify ImTech’s presence in the public eye.

Nayeon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. She hated this. She hated being used, hated feeling like a pawn in someone else’s game. But the worst part? The part that unsettled her more than anything else?

She wasn’t entirely sure if that hug—if holding Sana in that moment—was just part of the act.

As Mina pulled away from the kiss, Nayeon’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze immediately locking onto the woman before her. Her chest felt tight, as if the air had been stolen from her lungs. Maybe it was the wind—cold and biting—but no, there was no wind at all. It was Mina. It was the way she was looking at her, eyes brimming with unspoken words, with pain and longing so raw that it made Nayeon's stomach twist.

She wanted to say something, anything, but Mina was faster.

“I know,” Mina whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible between them. “All of it. I expected it, honestly…”

Her breath hitched as she sniffled, her fingers still cradling Nayeon’s face. She looked up then, her dark eyes piercing, searching, seeing right through the walls Nayeon had so desperately built. And in those seconds, in the silence between them, Mina saw it all—the truth Nayeon couldn’t bring herself to say, the words she couldn’t bear to spit out, the love and guilt clashing violently inside her.

“I don’t care if you’re married to someone,” Mina continued, her voice cracking as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Not even if you fall for them, as long as…”

Her words trailed off, swallowed by the weight of the moment. She swallowed hard, her lips trembling as she tried to gather the strength to finish. But instead of speaking, she did the only thing that made sense, the only thing that could convey what her voice couldn’t—she leaned in again, closing the distance between them, capturing Nayeon’s lips in another desperate kiss.

And this time, Nayeon kissed her back.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frenzied. It was slow, heavy with all the emotions neither of them could control, with the pain of knowing that this moment—this fleeting, fragile moment—was slipping through their fingers. Their eyes squeezed shut as tears continued to fall, mixing in between their lips, staining the moment with the sorrow neither of them wanted to face.

It was the first time a kiss felt so unbearable to let go of.

The first time opening their eyes again felt more painful than keeping them closed.

The first time their tears refused to stop, because no matter how tightly they held onto each other, it would never be enough.

Mina was the first to break away, her forehead lingering against Nayeon’s for just a second longer before she pulled back. Their eyes met, both mirroring the same emotions—confusion, heartbreak, love. The kind of love that hurt more than it healed.

Mina forced a smile, though it was more painful than anything else. And then, in a voice so soft yet heavy with meaning, she whispered,

“As long as you’re coming home to me.”

Nayeon let out a slow, weary sigh as she lowered herself onto the bench, her body feeling heavier than it should. The cold metal pressed against her palms as her fingers curled tightly around the edge, as if grounding herself would somehow steady the storm inside her. She stared ahead, her gaze unfocused, lost in the quiet hum of the world around her—the distant laughter of children, the rustling of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees, the occasional bark of a dog passing by. But none of it reached her. None of it mattered.

Because no matter how much she tried to clear her mind, Mina was still there.

Mina, with her tear-streaked face. Mina, with her trembling voice, whispering words that hurt more than anything else ever had. Mina, who had kissed her with all the pain in her heart and still, still, had let her go.

Nayeon swallowed hard, her grip tightening.

But if Mina’s presence lingered in her thoughts, so did another. A different kind of presence.

Sana.

The name alone sent an unfamiliar ache through her chest, one she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Yet, no matter how much she tried to push it away, it persisted, weaving itself into the same spaces Mina had occupied for so long. It was maddening, confusing, and above all, terrifying. Because she wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

She exhaled sharply, shutting her eyes for a brief moment. She had spent so long convincing herself that Sana was nothing more than an obligation—a mere name tied to hers in a marriage she never wanted. But then why did she keep remembering the way Sana had looked at her yesterday? Why did the memory of Sana’s warmth, her presence, her quiet understanding, refuse to fade?

Sana gently pulled away from the embrace as soon as she noticed the growing stares from the crowd around them. She took a small step back, her gaze flickering to the curious onlookers before shifting back to Nayeon. Without hesitation, she raised a hand slightly, her fingers hovering near Nayeon’s. There was something almost hesitant in her eyes, a quiet plea hidden beneath her calm demeanor.

“May I hold your hand?” Sana’s voice was soft, just above a whisper, meant for Nayeon’s ears alone.

For a second, Nayeon only stared at her, confused by the sudden request. But there was something about the way Sana asked—gentle yet firm, like she was offering her a choice rather than taking it. After a brief pause, Nayeon gave a small nod.

A soft, almost relieved smile appeared on Sana’s lips before she reached forward and took Nayeon’s hand in hers. She didn’t waste another second before gently pulling her away, leading her out of the overwhelming eyes that followed them.

Nayeon barely had time to process anything before she realized that Sana had stopped walking. It was only then that she noticed the quiet around them. The murmur of voices, the distant clinking of glasses, the subtle hum of the event—all of it had faded into a silence that felt oddly comforting. She glanced around, her gaze tracing over the dimly lit hallway they now stood in. The walls were adorned with elegantly framed portraits, each one displaying different generations of the Myoui family. Their watchful eyes, frozen in time, seemed to observe the two of them in the stillness of the moment.

Her gaze drifted back to Sana, but the woman wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead, she was staring at the portraits, her expression unreadable, as if lost in a quiet reverie.

Nayeon finally broke the silence. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, curiosity laced in her tone.

Sana finally turned to look at her, her lips curling into a small smile before her eyes returned to the portraits. “You don’t like being surrounded by people,” she said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I noticed it during our wedding last week.”

Nayeon blinked at her, slightly taken aback.

Sana continued, her voice carrying a light, casual tone. “This is a private hallway in the Myoui estate. Almost no one passes through here, so I figured it was the best place to catch our breath. The older woman from earlier—she’s the Myoui family’s first lady, and the man beside her is her husband. They favor me a little more than they should, so I’m allowed to go wherever I want inside this mansion.” There was no arrogance in her words, just a matter-of-fact explanation, like she was used to being treated this way but never took advantage of it.

Nayeon gave a small nod, absorbing the information. A strange feeling settled in her chest—one she wasn’t used to. Being seen. Noticed. It wasn’t something she often experienced, and certainly not something she expected from Sana of all people. It was… unsettling.

But she couldn’t dwell on it now. If she wanted to know the truth behind this marriage, she needed Sana’s trust. And if that meant lowering her guard, even just a little, then so be it.

Taking a breath, she hesitated before asking, “Are you okay?”

The moment the words left her lips, Sana’s head snapped toward her, surprise flashing across her face. It was quick, fleeting, but Nayeon caught it. The silence stretched between them before Sana let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“Why?” she mused, her lips curling into a smirk. “Do you care about me now?”

The teasing lilt in her voice sent a prickle of irritation down Nayeon’s spine, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she forced herself to hold back the urge to roll her eyes. If she wanted to gain Sana’s trust, snapping at her wouldn’t get her anywhere.

“Well, you could say that—”

“Stop.”

Sana’s voice turned sharper, her amusement vanishing in an instant. Her eyes darkened, and the smirk faded, replaced by something more serious.

“If you’re planning something, you should stop right there,” she said, her tone unwavering. “I’m not an easy person, Nayeon.”

Nayeon ran a frustrated hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the strands before she let out a quiet sigh. How was she supposed to approach Sana now? How could she even begin to gain her trust when the woman had already seen right through her? It wasn’t just suspicion—Sana had spoken with certainty, as if she had already read through every unspoken word Nayeon had yet to say.

It made everything so much harder.

She clenched her jaw, trying to push away the growing frustration gnawing at her chest. But before she could get lost in her thoughts again, something cool and wet landed on her cheek. She barely had time to process it before another drop followed, then another, until she finally looked up. The sky had darkened, thick clouds rolling in as raindrops started to fall, light at first but quickly growing in strength.

Nayeon blinked when another drop hit her nose, and before she could react, the rain turned heavier, cold against her skin. She let out a sharp breath, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she quickened her steps.

She needed shelter.

Her eyes scanned the area before she spotted a small convenience store just a few feet away. Without thinking twice, she hurried toward it, stepping under the awning just as the rain truly let loose. Within moments, the soft drizzle had turned into an unforgiving downpour, the sound of heavy droplets hitting the pavement mixing with the distant rumble of thunder.

Nayeon exhaled slowly, shaking off the water from her sleeves as she leaned against the store’s glass window. The air smelled of wet concrete, and the occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the streets in brief, ghostly light.

Then, as if on cue, her phone buzzed inside her pocket, the vibration pressing against her hip.

She pulled it out, wiping her damp fingers against her jeans before glancing at the screen. Two new messages.

One from Mina.

One from Momo.

And just like that, the storm outside seemed far quieter than the storm brewing inside her.

Sana had never loved thunder.

She hated the way it tore through the silence, the way it rattled the walls and shook the ground beneath her feet. She hated how it always brought her back—back to a time she had tried so hard to forget.

Now, curled up against the corner of her room, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, she trembled as another deafening crack split the air. The storm outside was merciless, rain pelting against the windowpane with a force that matched the weight pressing down on her chest. Her breaths were uneven, ragged, as if she couldn’t pull in enough air, and her murmurs of “stop… stop…” were barely louder than a whisper.

But the voices inside her head did not stop.

They swarmed her mind—loud, distorted, unrecognizable yet painfully familiar. They clawed at her, echoing through every corner of her thoughts, drowning her in a chaos she couldn’t escape. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms hard against her ears, desperate to make them go away.

But they never did.

Not until warmth—steady, grounding—pressed over the back of her hands, covering her ears completely.

Suddenly, everything fell silent.

The storm outside faded into nothingness. The booming thunder no longer shook the ground. The relentless voices that had haunted her for years dissolved into quiet.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sana could hear nothing but the pounding of her own heart.

Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes, her gaze lifting as if she were afraid the moment would shatter if she moved too quickly. And when she did—when she finally looked up—the world seemed to still.

The rain no longer poured, but instead, it felt like it was retreating, reversing its descent back to the sky. The flashes of lightning had disappeared, swallowed by the night. The fear—the unbearable weight—had lessened, though she did not know how.

Then, she saw her.

Nayeon.

Kneeling before her, hands still gently covering Sana’s ears as if shielding her from the storm. And for the first time—perhaps the very first time—Nayeon was smiling.

Not the sharp, distant smirk Sana had grown accustomed to. Not the polite, forced curve of lips she had seen before. But a real, quiet smile—soft, steady, warm.

Sana’s hands trembled as they slowly fell away from her ears, but Nayeon’s hands did not move. She kept them there, lingering just a little longer, as if promising to hold back the noise for as long as Sana needed.

She pulled it out, wiping her damp fingers against her jeans before glancing at the screen. Two new messages.

One from Mina.

One from Momo.

Mina: Hey, I made dinner. Are you coming over?

Momo: Can you bring medicine for Sana? She’s sick, and I couldn’t go now. I sprained my heel.

As much as Nayeon wanted to convince herself that she only doing this because she wanted to know all the truth, yet couldn’t deny the fact that, her heart is pounding with so much worries.

"So, Sana secretly met Jihyo?"

A low, chilling laugh escaped Hongjin's lips, the sound barely reaching past the dimly lit room. The man standing behind him remained still, his presence like a shadow—silent, unmoving, yet brimming with amusement. Though his face was swallowed by the darkness, the smirk on his lips was unmistakable.

Hongjin leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly as he picked up the pistol resting on his desk. His fingers traced along its cold metal surface, gliding over every sharp edge with an unsettling slowness. A quiet hum left his lips as he inspected the weapon, turning it in his grasp before pulling out the magazine. Empty.

A click echoed in the silence as he placed the gun down momentarily. Then, without hesitation, he reached for the drawer at his side, pulling it open to reveal rows of neatly arranged ammunition. The soft clinking of bullets filled the air as he loaded the gun, one by one.

With a final snap, he reloaded the pistol, spinning it once in his grasp before gripping it firmly. A smirk stretched across his lips, slow and filled with something dark. His gaze flickered toward nothing in particular, yet the weight of his words was heavy, as if the person he was speaking to was right in front of him.

"If you had just followed what I said…" He exhaled sharply, rolling his wrist, the barrel of the gun gleaming under the faint light. "I wouldn’t have to kill you."

His voice was calm, almost gentle, but beneath it lay a promise of something far more sinister.