Chapter 26

The dock was eerily silent, save for the distant lapping of waves against the wooden posts. The salt-laced wind was bitter against Rae-a's skin, chilling her even through the layers of her jacket. Dim moonlight glowed faintly on the damp planks, reflecting off rusting boats that swayed with the tide. The occasional creak of the dock echoed through the night, a quiet warning of unstable footing. Shadows stretched long and sharp under the few flickering lamplights that still clung to life, their feeble glow failing to illuminate the full extent of the pier. The place reeked of fish and brine, mixed with the lingering scent of oil and rust.

Rae-a moved with quiet precision, her grip tightening around the police file tucked under her arm. Her heart pounded steadily, but her focus remained sharp. This lead—this fisherman—was the only thread she had to grasp. She knew the games had taken place on an island. If anyone had seen something, if anyone had transported anything unusual, it would be someone like him. And Gi-hun... he had been in contact with this man before vanishing into that hell a second time. It couldn't be a coincidence. Something had to add up.

She was going to use the photos she found earlier to see if the fisherman had seen any of them. And she knew that if he denied it when he say Gi-hun's photo, then not only was he a liar, he would also be a target.

Her boots barely made a sound against the worn planks as she neared the docked boats. Then, she saw it—a flickering beam of light in the distance. Someone was moving through one of the boats, the torchlight sweeping over crates and coiled ropes. The silhouette was hunched, methodically searching through something. This had to be him.

Rae-a's fingers brushed against the knife in her pocket, gripping it just in case. She had learned the hard way that being unarmed at night was a mistake. Steeling herself, she moved closer, muscles coiled and ready.

Then, everything shifted in an instant.

Rae-a froze. The shift in the air was almost imperceptible, but she felt it—the tightening of the space around her, the way the night suddenly seemed heavier, suffocating. The torchlight flickered as if disturbed by a presence unseen. Her instincts screamed, and before she could react, figures emerged from the shadows like specters, knives glinting under the pale moon.

A trap.

Her gaze darted to her surroundings—bodies closing in from all sides, at least fourteen of them. They had formed a loose ring, surrounding her with an air of sickening amusement. The way they held their weapons was casual, confident. Too confident.

"You've been a real pain in the ass to find," one of them sneered, his voice dripping with venom. His lip curled into a smirk as he twirled a blade between his fingers. "Boss wants you alive... but he never said you had to be in one piece."

Rae-a's eyes flickered to the man speaking. His left eye was swollen, bruised purple and green—recent. Chul-soo had been angry. That much was clear.

Her lips twitched into a smirk. "Looks like someone already got a beating. Let me guess—Chul-soo pissed he can't control me?" she hummed, tilting her head slightly. "Or did you just piss him off by being incompetent?"

The bruised man's expression darkened instantly, and his grip on the knife tightened. The others chuckled lowly, egging him on, their gazes glinting with unspoken violence.

"You've got a smart mouth for someone who's surrounded," another man muttered, stepping closer. His blade was serrated—messy, painful. Deliberate. "Let's see how much you talk when we start cutting."

Rae-a's heartbeat was steady, but her mind was racing. She had no clear escape route. The boats were too far to reach before they caught her. The dock was too open, with only the cold, black water beyond it. And there was no way in hell she was going to venture in there.

The odds were against her.

She clicked her tongue, eyes scanning her captors. "Fourteen against one?" she said, feigning disappointment. "I thought Chul-soo had more faith in you."

Her words had the intended effect. A few of them stiffened, egos bruised.

The bruised man sneered. "Shut up."

"I mean, fourteen? Are you sure that's enough? I'd hate for you to feel like you're overexerting yourselves." Rae-a gripped her knife lazily, before flipping it in the air and catching it casually.

He lunged.

Rae-a moved instantly, sidestepping as his blade cut through the air where she had just been. But she knew the others wouldn't wait long. She had mere seconds before they all attacked at once.

Her fingers tightened around the knife in her hand.

She had to survive. She had to get out.

And if they wanted a fight, she'd give them one.

From the moment the first man lunged, Rae-a was already moving. She sidestepped, her knife slicing clean through his wrist before he could even bring his blade down. He let out a strangled yell, blood spurting as his fingers spasmed, his weapon clattering to the ground. She didn't hesitate—grabbing him by the collar, she yanked him forward and drove her knee into his gut. His breath left him in a choked gasp, and she followed up with a swift, merciless stab to his throat.

Before his body could hit the dock, she twisted, barely ducking under the wild swing of another attacker. The wind from the blade hissed past her ear. She spun low, sweeping his legs out from under him, and as he hit the planks, she pounced. Her knee crashed into his ribs, pinning him down. He struggled, cursing, but she silenced him with a brutal stab between the ribs, twisting the knife for good measure. His body jerked before going still.

Something rushed at her from the side—she had only a second to react. She rolled off the corpse just as another knife slashed downward, embedding itself into the wood where she had been. The attacker wrenched his blade free and came at her again, but she met him mid-charge, catching his wrist. With a sharp yank, she twisted his arm behind his back, forcing him to drop the weapon. He howled in pain. She slammed his head into a nearby crate, the dull crack of his skull splitting against the wood echoing over the docks. His body crumpled.

A blade flashed in the dim light.

She barely managed to jerk back as a machete slashed at her, feeling the cold edge bite into her arm. She hissed, staggering, warmth seeping into her sleeve. Before she could react, another sharp pain exploded across her side—a second blade slicing through her shirt, cutting into flesh.

She gasped, barely managing to block a follow-up strike with her forearm. The pain was sharp, bright, but she forced herself to move through it.

She ducked under another swing, ignoring the burning sensation radiating from her wounds. With a sharp, vicious twist, she caught the machete-wielding man's wrist and forced the blade from his grasp. He barely had time to react before she drove it straight through his chest.

A strangled gasp escaped him as blood gushed from his mouth. She ripped the blade free with a wet squelch, and he collapsed.

Ten left.

Pain burned through her body, but she couldn't stop.

Another man grabbed her from behind, locking an arm around her throat. She threw her head back, the crack of her skull against his nose making him yelp. His grip loosened just enough. She hooked her leg behind his knee and yanked, throwing them both to the ground.

As they hit the wooden planks, she twisted in his grasp, straddling him. One quick, savage slice across his throat, and he was done.

Nine left.

She barely had time to register movement before a boot slammed into her back, sending her sprawling forward.

She caught herself before hitting the ground, rolling onto her side to avoid a knife aimed at her gut. The blade drove into the dock instead, wedging itself between the planks. She kicked upward, her heel connecting with the man's jaw. He staggered back, but before she could capitalize on it, another fist struck her across the face.

Her vision blurred for a second.

Then she felt it—hot pain slicing across her arm.

Another knife.

She bit back a cry, twisting away, but blood was already seeping down her sleeve. Another slash caught her side, tearing through fabric and flesh.

Her body was slowing.

She gasped, barely managing to block a follow-up strike with her forearm. She grabbed the man's wrist and snapped it with a vicious twist. He screamed, dropping his weapon, and she rammed her knife up through his ribs, silencing him instantly.

Eight left.

A sharp pain exploded in her ribs. A kick-someone had kicked her.

She rolled off the dying man, coughing, her breath coming ragged.

A fist slammed into her head, sending her staggering back. She barely had time to react before someone yanked at her jacket, pulling her in and then throwing a punch to her ribs. She hit the ground hard, her knife slipping from her grasp.

No.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself up, but the world was spinning.

Someone grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back. A blade pressed against her throat.

She panted, blood dripping from her lips, her limbs trembling. Was this it?

Suddenly-

A sharp, brutal crack split the air. The man holding her went rigid before dropping like a stone, his body hitting the dock with a dull thud. Rae-a barely had time to process before a shadow moved through the remaining eight men like a machine—silent, lethal.

A shattered kneecap sent one attacker screaming to the ground. Another barely had time to react before a precise strike crushed his throat, his body convulsing as he gasped for air. A knife-wielding man lunged, but the figure caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting until the bone snapped. His shriek was cut off by a brutal elbow to the temple, sending him sprawling into unconsciousness.

It was chaos—fluid, merciless. But Rae-a was not an idle spectator.

Through sheer force of will, she pushed past the burning pain in her limbs, forcing herself back into the fight. Blood soaked her clothes, but she refused to falter. A man rushed her from the side—she ducked under his punch, then surged up with a brutal uppercut that cracked his jaw. He staggered, and she seized the moment, grabbing his head and slamming it against the dock until he went limp.

Another assailant lunged at her from behind. She sensed him at the last second, twisting just in time to avoid the blade aimed at her ribs. Before he could recover, she drove her knee into his stomach, then grabbed the back of his head and smashed it into her rising knee. He crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

Across from her, the unknown figure continued their ruthless assault. A man swung a crowbar—only for it to be caught mid-air. With a sharp twist, the weapon was ripped from his grasp and driven into his gut. He let out a strangled cry before a sweeping kick took his legs out from under him, his head slamming into the dock with a sickening crack.

The last two men tried to flee. They didn't get far.

Rae-a caught one by the collar, yanking him back and driving her elbow into his ribs before sweeping his legs from under him. He gasped, barely conscious, before she delivered the final blow—a sharp kick to the temple that knocked him out cold.

The final man staggered forward, only to be sent crashing onto all fours as a well-placed kick struck the back of his knee. He gasped, scrambling, but a precise strike to the pressure point in his neck sent him into darkness.

Then—silence.

Rae-a swayed, her breath ragged. Blood pooled beneath her, her body screaming in exhaustion, but she remained standing. Barely.

Her fingers twitched. Her vision swam.

She forced herself to focus on the lone figure amidst the carnage.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

The stranger turned, their face illuminated under the moonlight.

Rae-a immediately froze. Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat as disbelief flooded her system.

She must be seeing things.

"Hyun-ju?" The name left her lips in a whisper, disbelieving.

The name barely left her lips, a broken whisper, disbelieving. It couldn't be.

Hyun-ju's face, sharp and familiar, was streaked with sweat and blood, but her eyes—those fierce, determined eyes—were unmistakable.

But before she could process, Hyun-ju was suddenly in front of her, arms wrapping around her in a fierce, desperate embrace. The moment their bodies collided, Rae-a felt herself crumble, every ounce of tension she had held onto for so long shattering in an instant.

A sharp inhale rattled through her as she clung to Hyun-ju, her fingers digging into the fabric of her jacket as if letting go would make her disappear. She buried her face into Hyun-ju's shoulder, trembling against her warmth.

Hyun-ju was real.

She was alive.

Rae-a felt her breath shudder, something sharp clawing at her chest. She hadn't realized how close she had been to breaking, how deeply she had convinced herself that Hyun-ju was gone- along with everyone else-just another ghost in the trail of death that followed her.

But she wasn't.

She was here.

Relief flooded her veins so violently that tears welled in her eyes, burning against her lashes.

But how? Why was she here?

Then, suddenly, Hyun-ju stiffened. Rae-a barely had time to react before Hyun-ju pulled back, her hands coming up to cup Rae-a's face. Her brows furrowed as she searched Rae-a's expression, her fingers brushing against damp skin.

When she pulled her hand back, it was coated in blood.

Her entire body went rigid.

"Rae-a." Her voice was sharp, urgent, her eyes scanning Rae-a's injuries with quick efficiency. Her hands ghosted over her side, pressing against a gash in her ribs. "You're hurt."

Rae-a huffed out something that was supposed to be a laugh but came out more like a cough. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth, but she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "This?" she rasped, her voice hoarse. "This doesn't even graze some of the things I've had happen before. I'll be fine."

Hyun-ju's jaw clenched, her sharp eyes narrowing.

"That's not funny," she bit out.

Rae-a smirked, but it barely held. Hyun-ju was still gripping her, hands steadying her like she expected her to collapse at any moment.

Hyun-ju's grip tightened slightly. "What the hell happened? Why were those people after you?"

The question hit harder than Rae-a expected.

She hesitated.

Hyun-ju deserved an answer, but Rae-a had no idea where to even begin. There was no way she was going to get out of this one.

A long breath escaped her lips as she finally sighed, spitting out more blood before muttering, "I'll explain later."

Hyun-ju didn't look convinced. She gave her a long, unreadable stare before nodding once, curtly. "Fine. But we need to get you out of here first. Somewhere safe."

Rae-a exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders. "My place isn't far."

Without another word, Hyun-ju slung Rae-a's arm over her shoulder, supporting her weight as they began to move. Every step sent a sharp jolt of pain through her body, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself forward.

The dock was silent now, save for the sound of their footsteps and the distant crashing of waves. The bodies left behind were nothing more than remnants of a brutal fight, their blood seeping between the wooden planks.

As they walked, Rae-a's mind churned with questions.

Hyun-ju was alive. That alone was enough to shake her to her core.

But the timing—

Her eyes flickered to Hyun-ju, searching for answers. "Hyun-ju, how did you find me?"

Hyun-ju hesitated, shifting on her feet. "I got a message."

The words sent a sharp jolt through Rae-a's chest. Her stomach twisted, a slow, sinking dread settling in.

"What?"

"I don't know who it was from," Hyun-ju admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It just said you'd be here... that you needed help."

Rae-a's breath caught. A message.

Someone had known. Someone had sent Hyun-ju here, knowing she would come. Her pulse pounded, a relentless rhythm against her ribs, the pieces falling into place before she could stop them.

It had to be him.

In-ho.

Her hands clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms as a storm of emotions crashed over her. Why? Why had he done this? Why send Hyun-ju instead of coming himself? He had been so adamant about keeping her in the dark, refusing to tell her who had won the Games, withholding every detail as if the truth would shatter her. Yet now, he had pulled Hyun-ju into this, dragging her into a mess she should have never been a part of—all to preserve her life.

That bastard.

He hadn't even told her Hyun-ju was alive, and now, suddenly, he was willing to risk her? To use her as a shield in this twisted game of his? How much more selfish could he be?

Her lips parted, but no words came out. The anger, the disbelief, the sheer frustration burned in her throat, suffocating her. There was too much to say, and yet nothing that would change the fact that once again, In-ho had controlled the board without her knowing.

"Is anyone else alive?"

 She could barely bring herself to ask, the fear of the answer clawing at her insides. Hyun-ju paused, her face unreadable for a long moment, before she finally stopped in her tracks, the weight of the silence making Rae-a hold her breath.

Hyun-ju's voice was low, almost regretful, when she spoke. "I... I can barely recall what happened after that last game. All I know is we had another one—Jack and Jill. We lost 007. We lost 149." She glanced down briefly, as if the memories were too much to carry. Rae-a's throat tightened. Those numbers meant death. And they had lost more than just a few players. They had lost people they had fought alongside.

"And we haven't seen Gi-hun or Jungbae since the revolution," Hyun-ju continued, her voice quieter, more distant now. "No one's heard anything. No one knows where they went. No one even knows if they're alive."

Rae-a's breath faltered, her pulse stuttering as Hyun-ju's words settled like lead in her chest.

Gi-hun and Jungbae.

Her mind reeled, grasping for answers that didn't exist. It wasn't just uncertainty—it was the gut-wrenching realization that they could be dead, and she would have no way of knowing. The others... the others had been dragged back into the Games, forced to play again in that endless cycle of horror. But Gi-hun and Jungbae? They had simply disappeared.

Her stomach twisted violently.

What had In-ho done to them?

Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms as a sickening thought took root. Had he killed them? Silenced them before they could become liabilities? Or had he thrown them into something even worse than the Games? She had seen the way he operated—how calculated he was, how effortlessly he could erase a problem before anyone even realized it existed.

And yet... he hadn't erased her.

She had been a liability the moment she learned his true identity. The moment she realized that Young-il, the man she had fought beside in the Games, was Hwang In-ho—the Frontman. He could have ended it right then, snuffed her out like he had with countless others who got too close to the truth. But he didn't.

Why?

Why had he let her live, even as he condemned the others to fates unknown? What made her different?

The question gnawed at her, burrowing deep into the pit of her stomach like a parasite. Had he spared her because she was useful? Or was it something else—something she wasn't ready to name?

The part that made her chest tighten like a vice—was that she couldn't even ask him. Couldn't demand answers, couldn't force the truth from him. Because she already knew what he would do.

He would look at her with that unreadable gaze. He would measure his words carefully, weaving them into something just vague enough to keep her guessing. He would never give her the truth, not unless it served him.

Had she condemned them by being taken away? Had they paid the price for her escape?

The thought was unbearable.

Her throat tightened, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to stay still, to keep her expression unreadable. She couldn't fall apart. Not now.

She looked down, trying to steady herself. Dae-ho? Myung-gi? Names, faces, all of them vivid in her memory. Were they all gone? Her mind couldn't stop asking the questions, but every answer was a void, an unbearable silence. Hyun-ju's words felt like a lifeline that had just slipped away.

Then came the question that made Rae-a freeze. Hyun-ju's voice was laced with confusion, concern, and something Rae-a couldn't place.

"Where were you?" she asked, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Rae-a's breath caught in her throat. Where was I? The thought crashed into her like a wave, threatening to break through her carefully constructed walls. Hyun-ju had thought she was dead. And hearing it out loud made the realization hit harder than she expected. Her chest tightened, and her stomach churned. The Frontman. The truth of it—captured, held, then let go—was so bitter, so suffocating, so...kind, in comparison to what the others had suffered. 

It was a weight she could barely carry, let alone speak about.

She swallowed hard, the taste of betrayal still bitter on her tongue. The words, the very ones she had forced herself to admit once, felt even harder to speak aloud now, here, with Hyun-ju's eyes on her. But Rae-a's gaze hardened. No. I won't break down. She clenched her jaw, forcing her voice to remain steady, each word colder than she intended.

"I was... captured," she said, the words sharp like a knife against her tongue. "Held in a cell." Her hand twitched at the thought, but she didn't let it show. "But... eventually, they let me go."

She could feel the weight of Hyun-ju's gaze on her, the quiet disbelief lingering in the air, but Rae-a couldn't afford to let her emotions unravel. Not now. Not when there were bigger things at stake.

The conversation needed to shift. She needed answers. And Rae-a needed to know what had happened to everyone else—her friends, her comrades, the ones who had fought beside her. And if they died, she still needed to get back to their families at one point or another.

Hyun-ju's brow furrowed, a look of pain crossing her face as she searched through the memories that were fading, slipping away from her. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken truths.

"After that game... everything's blurry," Hyun-ju finally said, her voice faltering slightly. "But... I know I'm the one who survived." She hesitated, as if the reality was too much to bear. "And... I have the 45.6 billion."

Rae-a's breath hitched at the mention of the prize, the same prize that had been promised to the one who survived. But hearing it now, with Hyun-ju's voice cracked, made it sound hollow. Meaningless. The money, the wealth—it could never replace what they had lost. It had come at too high a cost.

"I... I'm sorry," Rae-a murmured, but the words felt empty. No one wanted to carry that guilt, trust me she knew.

She tried to steady herself, her mind racing to think of something—anything—to say next. But then... she felt it. That unmistakable shiver down her spine. The sensation of being watched. Of someone lurking just out of sight.

Her hand shot to her knife, her grip tightening around the handle, every muscle in her body coiling. Someone's watching me.

She turned sharply, scanning the surroundings, every sense heightened. Her eyes darted between the shadows, searching for any movement. The silence seemed to stretch, suffocating.

Her grip tightened around the knife, the cool metal of the handle pressing against her palm. It was a warning to whoever was hiding. Her voice was low, ice-cold. "I know you're out there." She stepped forward, her eyes darting through the shadows. "Come out now... or I'll throw this." Her gaze sharpened, a silent promise.

"And I dont miss."

Still, the silence held. She waited, muscles coiled, the weight of anticipation pressing down like a storm on the horizon. Then, at last, there was movement. A figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows into the dim light.

Jun-ho.

Recognition hit her like a jolt of electricity. She had seen him earlier, a fleeting glimpse amidst the chaos, but now everything fell into place. He had been following her. Observing. Listening. He had heard everything.

Her stomach twisted. This had just become significantly more dangerous.

Did he know who she was? What she had done? How much had he pieced together?

Her knife remained steady, its aim unwavering as she met his gaze. Jun-ho's expression betrayed nothing, but his eyes—calculating and watchful—suggested otherwise. He was assessing her, measuring each breath, each subtle shift in her stance.

The silence between them stretched until, finally, he spoke.

"Did you see his face?"

Her pulse stuttered.

How the hell does he know about that?

The question thundered through her mind, but she kept her expression neutral, unwilling to let him see even a flicker of uncertainty. If Jun-ho knew too much, he was a liability. And she had no room for liabilities.

Instead of answering, she turned the question back on him.

"Did you take the files?"

Her voice was steady, smooth, but laced with something colder—an edge sharpened by suspicion. Her grip on the knife tightened just slightly, the weight of the moment pressing down between them. She didn't trust him. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

Why would he ask about the Frontman?

She knew there was more to this. Too much was wrong, and she could feel it—his questions, the way he stood there, unfazed. He wasn't just a cop tailing her. No, this was something bigger than that.

Jun-ho's eyes flickered, just for a fraction of a second, and Rae-a didn't miss it. His gaze shifted subtly, darting to the lifeless bodies scattered around them before returning to her. He had seen it. He had seen her kill those men.

The air between them was thick with an unspoken understanding: she was far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

He took a slow step toward her, his hands open and non-threatening, but his eyes—those intensely focused eyes—never left hers. He could feel the hostility radiating from her, the warning in her stance and paused in his steps.

"I've been looking for these games for years," Jun-ho finally said, his voice steady, but something in his gaze flickered. His hand moved to adjust his jacket, his shoulders relaxing, trying to ease the tension. "I'm not your enemy."

Rae-a didn't lower her knife. Not yet. She wasn't fooled. Her fingers curled around the handle, her knuckles white, but her face remained impassive. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to hear the rest of his words. He had heard too much. He knew too much.

Her voice, cold and sharp, cut through the silence. "What's the initiation?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. If he is lying then he would not know this.

Jun-ho didn't flinch at her question, but something in his expression shifted, a flicker of recognition. He responded immediately, without hesitation, his voice steady but edged with a sense of urgency. "Ddakji."

The answer landed with an almost quiet finality. Rae-a's grip on the knife loosened, and her shoulders relaxed—just slightly. She knew it was the right answer. Despite not being involved in its initiation, she distinctly remembered the videos of the players initiation being put on the screens for them to watch.

Rae-a's voice came out cool as she spoke again, but there was something behind her words that Jun-ho caught, something measured. "I haven't seen his face," she said, her tone smooth, betraying no hint of the lie she was weaving.

She was not just going to give him everything. Even if he did know about the games, it did not mean he was to be trusted.

Jun-ho didn't respond immediately. His eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable. He could feel the tension in the air shift, a subtle energy that was hard to ignore. He felt it—something was off. But for now, he didn't press further. Not yet. His gaze softened as he stepped forward slowly, deliberately, but without any threatening movement. He was careful.

He was thinking, piecing things together in his head. Why was she captured by the Frontman? By Inho? 

That was the question that gnawed at him, a puzzle with a missing piece. Had anyone else been captured by him before? The thought seemed too strange, too... personal. Jun-ho's eyes flickered with uncertainty, the realization clawing at him. It didn't add up. His brother never left loose ends, never did things that didn't make sense.

Jun-ho took another step closer, still cautious, but now his suspicion grew. The people she's killed? He knew the men she had murdered—everyone knew who Kang Chul-soo's men were. The dragon tattoo snaking up their necks was a dead giveaway. They weren't just any thugs, they were part of the underground mafia's iron fist. Yet Rae-a had killed them without hesitation.

And then there was the odd coincidence—Hyun-ju. The winner of the games. She was here to save Rae-a? Not only this but Rae-a, who was clearly somewhat involved in these games was left alive too. A game with only one winner.

Jun-ho's brow furrowed slightly. The pieces didn't line up. There was too much happening at once. Too many holes. What are the odds?

As he closed the distance between them, his instincts kicked into overdrive. Rae-a's facade was almost flawless, but not enough for him to dismiss the nagging feeling in his gut. There were too many layers to her—too many things hidden beneath the surface. And Hyun-ju? How does she fit into this?

The tension in the air was palpable, like the calm before a storm. Rae-a's hand never strayed far from the knife, her fingers brushing the cold steel with a practiced ease. Her eyes remained sharp, watching Jun-ho carefully, every move calculated.

Jun-ho, ever the investigator, wasn't backing down. "We should work together," he said, his voice firm but not threatening. "We both want the same thing."

Rae-a narrowed her eyes at him, her expression skeptical, almost amused. Work with him? The thought felt foreign on her tongue, a bitter aftertaste. "I don't think so," she replied coldly, every syllable dripping with suspicion. "I don't trust you, detective."

Jun-ho's eyes flashed with the faintest trace of frustration, but he quickly recovered, his gaze steady. "You've killed multiple people tonight. The law doesn't look kindly on that. You could face life in prison," he said, his tone more pragmatic now.

Rae-a's lips curled into a smirk, the corners of her mouth pulling up in a way that didn't quite reach her eyes. She flicked her knife, catching the light just enough to send a flash of reflection into Jun-ho's eyes. "You think you can catch me?" she said, her voice dripping with challenge. "You wouldn't even be able to if you wanted to."

Jun-ho paused. It wasn't so much that her words stung—he had heard worse—but the cold certainty in her voice gave him a moment of doubt. He couldn't deny it. She's right. There was something about her, something dangerous and untouchable. His gut told him that she was a step ahead, always. A part of him even wondered if she was right about not being caught. But he couldn't let that sway him.

"Look," he began, taking a half-step closer but keeping the distance between them, "I'm trying to get the same answers as you. You're clearly on the Frontman's radar, and I—" he hesitated, almost reluctantly— "I'm a police officer who has access to information. I can get what you need, legally."

Rae-a's eyes flickered for the briefest moment, the guard around her softening just enough for Jun-ho to notice. He was right; they both wanted the same thing, after all. But that didn't mean she was going to make it easy. She'd never made anything easy in her life.

A long silence hung between them as Rae-a weighed his words. She didn't trust him, not yet, and she certainly wasn't in the business of working with anyone who wasn't already on her level. But... there was something in his offer that tugged at her. She still wanted to give the families of those who died a reason to grieve—she wasn't done with them yet, not by a long shot.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, looking away for a moment as if to clear her head. "Fine," she said reluctantly, her voice still guarded. "We can work together. But there are rules."

Jun-ho raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden shift in her tone, but he didn't say anything, waiting for her to lay them out.

"I have another base," Rae-a continued, her gaze cold but unwavering. "A place to meet. You'll contact me there. And only there. Understand?" She didn't need to add the threat to her words; it was clear in the way she held herself. If he stepped out of line, there would be consequences.

"Got it," Jun-ho replied, his voice firm.

Rae-a reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a small phone, quickly scribbling down a contact number. She tossed it over to him without a second thought. "There. Call me when you have something worth sharing."

Jun-ho caught the phone, his fingers brushing the plastic. He nodded once. "I'll be in touch."

Without another word, Rae-a turned on her heel, walking towards the shadows of the alley, alongside Hyun-ju. Her hand remained steady on her knife, but she could feel his gaze lingering on her. She knew what he was thinking. He didn't know who she was, not fully, but he was starting to suspect something. She could see it in the way he was eyeing the bodies.

Jun-ho's eyes flicked back toward the bloody scene, the lifeless forms sprawled across the pavement. There was no denying it—Rae-a was dangerous, deadly even. And something told him that she was holding back more than she was letting on. He still didn't know the full extent of her involvement with the Frontman, nor how deep her ties went with Kang Chul-soo's mafia, but the pieces were starting to fit together, and it didn't sit right with him.

There was a part of him—more than a small part—that wanted to believe she was something else, something more. She wasn't just a killer. There was more beneath the surface. But he pushed that thought aside, focused instead on the task at hand.

Rae-a paused by the edge of the alley, glancing back at him with one final, unreadable look. "You should leave now," she said, her voice quiet and barely above a murmur. "You don't want to be caught around me."

Jun-ho hesitated, his eyes locking with hers. There was something dangerous in her stare, something that made him want to look away but couldn't. He knew he was close to something, but he didn't push it. Not yet.

He stepped back, his eyes lingering for a moment longer before he turned away, walking back toward the shadows. Rae-a watched him go, her gaze never wavering. When she was certain he was gone, she exhaled, the weight of the moment settling in her chest. The deal was struck. For now.

But she knew one thing for sure—this wasn't over.

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The air felt thick with tension as Rae-a and Hyun-ju stood in the dim alleyway, the weight of the moment hanging between them. Hyun-ju's eyes flickered over the lifeless bodies, still processing everything that had just unfolded. She looked to Rae-a for some sign of what to do next, but the coldness in Rae-a's gaze was enough to tell her that there was no time to linger.

"We shouldn't spend too much time here either," Rae-a said, her voice low but firm, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Hyun-ju, still trying to make sense of the chaos, raised a brow. "What about the bodies?"

Rae-a's lips quirked into a smirk, her posture tense but controlled. "Bodies are the least of our problems. They won't be here long. If anyone's looking for fingerprints, they won't find anything."

Hyun-ju's brow furrowed. She knew Rae-a was dangerous, capable of things most couldn't even imagine, but this? The idea that Rae-a had somehow circumvented the most basic form of evidence left her momentarily speechless.

"But your fingerprints—" Hyun-ju started, her voice faltering.

Rae-a raised both her hands, showing them empty and smooth, without a single mark. "No fingerprints," she said, her tone casual as if she were discussing the weather. "I burned them off years ago. It's the only reason I've managed to get this far." There was a cold edge to her words, and for the first time, Hyun-ju realized just how deep Rae-a's survival instincts ran.

"Trust me," Rae-a continued, her eyes hardening, "you'll want to keep your hands off them, though. I don't think we can leave a trace like this. It's not just about being invisible anymore, Hyun-ju. It's about staying ahead of everyone else."

Hyun-ju nodded slowly, understanding the severity of the situation. She glanced at the bodies again, but this time, there was no hesitation in her movements as she turned toward Rae-a. "So, what's next?"

Her gaze, sharp and calculating, flicked upward towards the moon. 

Rae-a's body stiffened for a brief moment before her eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Rae-a?" Hyun-ju asked, her voice now laced with concern.

Rae-a raised a finger to her lips, signaling for Hyun-ju to stay quiet. Slowly, cautiously, Rae-a took a step back, her eyes fixed on something above them. Hyun-ju followed her gaze, and her stomach tightened as she saw it—a small, black camera mounted in the corner, just above where they had been standing.

It was the faintest glimmer of light catching the lens, the subtle reflection of the dim streetlamps that told Rae-a everything she needed to know. The camera was not just recording—it was watching, and it was likely feeding directly to whoever was monitoring their every move.

Hyun-ju felt a knot form in her gut. "Cameras," she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible. "

Rae-a's expression darkened. Her jaw clenched and taut. Of course he is recording. Kang Chul-soo has eyes everywhere. He's not stupid. Her thoughts echoed in her ears as she took a few more steps back. He's probably tapped into that camera by now. He knows exactly where we are.

The weight of the situation settled heavily on Rae-a's shoulders as the realization dawned. If Chul-soo was watching, then they had no time to waste. Every second spent here was a second closer to being cornered.

Rae-a's gaze flicked briefly to Hyun-ju, her features hardening, her survival instincts kicking into high gear. "We need to move. Now."

She turned without waiting for a response, but Hyun-ju couldn't help but glance back at the camera one more time, feeling the looming presence of Chul-soo's surveillance hanging over them.

As Rae-a led the way out of the alley, Hyun-ju quickly followed, but the gnawing feeling in her stomach wouldn't leave. It was clear now—this wasn't just about escaping the game. It was about surviving the man who controlled everything from the shadows, and Rae-a wasn't the only one at risk anymore.

In-ho had dragged Hyun-ju into this. Hyun-ju was never supposed to be part of this war. But now, because of him, she was marked. Another pawn in a game Rae-a never wanted her to play.

Hyun-ju was in this, whether she wanted to be or not. And she had no idea just how deep this rabbit hole went. Yet. 

But she would explain it all when they got back.

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Inho's office was bathed in the quiet hum of the evening, the city's distant lights twinkling beneath the glass window. He sat in the leather chair, swirling the amber whiskey in his glass, watching the liquid shift as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. The long day of meetings had left him drained, but it had also served its purpose. He had secured his place among the underground elite, proving his worth. Now, he could only hope his subtle manipulations had been enough to make the message to Rae-a reach her.

The thought of her kept lingering in his mind—the fire in her eyes, her fierce defiance, the way she had always been just out of his grasp. She has to have gotten the message. She's smart, Inho thought. She'll get herself out.

The silence was broken by a sharp knock at the door. Inho straightened up immediately, his gaze sharpening as he called out, "Come in."

The door opened, and the guard stepped in, his posture stiff and professional as ever. But there was something off in the man's demeanor, a hesitation in the air that caught Inho's attention.

The guard cleared his throat. "Sir, player 089 has been saved by 120."

Inho's pulse stuttered for just a fraction of a second, and his hand tightened around the whiskey glass. Rae-a. Hearing her number didn't sit well with him anymore. He had long since stopped thinking of her as just another player.

He leaned forward, his voice firm, commanding. "Rae-a," he said sharply, the words almost a demand. "Don't refer to her as a number."

The guard flinched slightly but nodded, unsure of what to make of Inho's sudden shift.

Inho's breath escaped in a small sigh of relief. She was safe. His message had gotten through. A fleeting sense of relief washed over him—she was alive. But there was no time to dwell on it. Not yet. His mind already shifted to the next problem.

He waved his hand dismissively, signaling for the guard to leave. "That will be all," Inho added coldly, no trace of emotion in his tone.

The guard didn't hesitate this time, quickly stepping back and exiting the room.

Inho sat back, swirling his glass once more, letting the silence reclaim the room. He stared into the amber liquid, his thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions. But just as he was about to regain control, the door creaked open again, and another knock echoed in the room. This time, Inho's patience had already worn thin. His voice was a low growl when he called out, "Come in."

A second guard stepped in, holding a Polaroid in his hand. Inho's eyes immediately darted to it, already anticipating what he would see. The guard hesitated before speaking, his voice stiff with unease.

"There's a police officer that caught Rae-a during the ambush," the guard said. "We have this."

Inho's heartbeat quickened as he launched up, his hand snapping out to snatch the Polaroid from the guard's grasp. Without a word, he looked down at the image, the breath leaving his lungs as he processed what he saw.

Rae-a. Bloodied and bruised, knife gripped tightly in her hand, her defiance unmistakable. The fire that had always been in her eyes was still there, but it was directed at something—or someone—else. She hadn't let herself be broken.

But then his eyes flicked to the side of the photo, and the sight of the man standing next to her made his chest tighten. 

His brother. Standing in the background of the chaos, looking tense, like he was caught in a storm of his own making.

Jun-ho?

A chill ran through Inho's spine as he processed the image in silence, his mind reeling. The shock was brief, quickly replaced with a cold, calculating focus. He couldn't allow himself to react too strongly—not yet. 

His brother, the detective, had caught Rae-a, of all people?

The guard was still waiting, unsure of how to proceed, but Inho was already beyond the point of caring about the details. His voice, however, was cold as ice as he flicked his hand dismissively toward the door.

"Leave," Inho commanded. The guard didn't hesitate this time, stepping back quickly, eager to escape the tension in the air.

Inho stood still for a moment, the polaroid still clenched in his hand, his gaze fixed on the photo. The weight of it sank deep into his chest. This had just become far more complicated than he could have anticipated. His brother was now in the picture, entangled in all of this. He didn't know whether to be angry or... relieved. Jun-ho was clever, yes—but also a loose end that had now tied itself to Rae-a. Who could be the most unpredictable person in this game.

He walked slowly back toward his desk, sitting down in his chair again. His fingers tightened around the whiskey glass, but he didn't drink. He couldn't. His mind was too focused on the tangled web that had just gotten even messier.

It seemed that he was going to have to get involved with his brother, one way or another.