Chapter Two: The Evidence Never Lies

Jaeahn's hands trembled as he replayed the video. Once. Twice. Again.

His brother's face, pale and lifeless. The muffled voices in the background. The unmistakable sound of a struggle before the screen cut to black.

His breath hitched. This can't be real.

A part of him wanted to believe it was a cruel fabrication—a glitch, a deepfake, a hallucination brought on by exhaustion. But the rawness of it, the blood pooling beneath his brother's body, the fear in his eyes—it was all too real.

Jaeahn staggered back, his mind racing. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. Calm down. Think.

Panic was dangerous. Panic led to mistakes. And mistakes in this world were fatal.

He forced himself to inhale deeply, exhaling just as slowly. His heartbeat still pounded in his ears, but his thoughts began to clear. He needed to treat this like a case—detach himself from the pain, from the memories.

Because if this video was real, then his brother wasn't just dead.

He was murdered.

Jaeahn's hands trembled as he replayed the video. His heart pounded against his ribs, a slow, creeping dread washing over him. The grainy footage flickered on the screen—his brother's voice, weak but desperate, struggling to say something. And then, just before the screen cut to black, a single message appeared.

A phone number.

Jaeahn's breath hitched. His vision blurred as he stared at the digits, an eerie chill crawling up his spine.

It was his old phone number.

"What…?" His voice barely left his lips, his throat tightening. This wasn't just a coincidence. This was deliberate. Someone had sent this message for him—only him.

His fingers hovered over the screen. Every fiber of his being told him this was a door he wasn't ready to open. But it was too late. The past had already reached out to drag him back in.

---

Do Hwan sat in the dimly lit room, his back pressed against the cold wall, the only source of light coming from the phone screen in his trembling hands. The video played again—grainy, distorted, yet clear enough to shake his entire world.

At first, it was just his brother's broken voice, weak and barely audible. Then came the sound of footsteps—steady, unhurried. A shadow moved across the frame, just for a second, but Do Hwan caught it.

His breath hitched.

The figure was too familiar. The way he stood, the way he tilted his head slightly before stepping forward—it was a posture Do Hwan had seen a thousand times before.

Jaeahn.

Do Hwan's fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm. His mind screamed for a rational explanation, but the more he replayed the clip, the deeper the suspicion buried itself in his chest.

And then—something even more chilling.

At the end of the video, the screen glitched, and a phone number briefly appeared.

Do Hwan stared at it, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The digits were old, almost erased by time, but he knew them.

Jaeahn's old number.

His grip on the phone tightened. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, filled with disbelief and something dangerously close to rage.

"Jaeahn… just what the hell have you done?"

"incorporating that Jae Ahn and Do Hwan have never met"

---

Do Hwan stared at the screen, his breath uneven. The pieces didn't fit, yet the video kept whispering a truth he didn't want to believe.

Jae Ahn.

The name meant nothing to him personally. They had never met, never exchanged a single word. But to his brother… she had been everything. A younger sister he always spoke about, a girl he wanted to protect at all costs.

"My sister is reckless, but she's strong."

"She doesn't trust easily, but once she does, she'll fight for you until the end."

"I just want her to be happy."

Do Hwan had always listened in silence, never paying much attention. After all, she was just a name, a story told between drinks, something distant—until now.

Now, that same name was tied to a number that should have been buried in the past.

Jaeahn's old number.

Do Hwan exhaled sharply, his fingers gripping the phone.

Had his brother trusted her too much? Or… had he been wrong about her all along?

videoJae Ahn's hands trembled as he replayed the video, his mind racing. His brother's voice echoed through the dimly lit room.

"I have to protect her… No matter what happens, she must live."

Jongsuk clenched his fists, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's talking about saving his sister… So, is he talking about you?" His gaze locked onto Jae Ahn, filled with both confusion and fear.

Jae Ahn swallowed hard, his breath uneven. "But why? Why would he say that… right before—" He couldn't finish the sentence. The weight of the truth was suffocating.

'Jae Ahn opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, Jongsuk's eyes widened in horror. His breath hitched as he leaned closer to the screen, his fingers trembling as he pointed.

"T-That bracelet…" His voice barely escaped his lips, laced with disbelief.

The dim light flickered over the grainy video, but the silver bracelet on the killer's wrist gleamed unmistakably. Jongsuk's heart pounded violently against his ribs. He had seen it before. He knew that bracelet.

"Jongsuk…?" Jae Ahn furrowed his brows, sensing the unease in his friend's voice.

Jongsuk swallowed hard, his face pale. His mind raced, piecing together fragmented memories. "No… This can't be," he muttered under his breath, his hands gripping his knees as a chilling realization crept over him.

If his suspicion was right… then the real nightmare was just beginning.

Jongsuk's fingers froze mid-air, his breath hitching in his throat. The phone, still playing the haunting video, slipped from his grip and crashed onto the table with a sharp clatter.

His eyes widened in shock, darting between the screen and Jae Ahn. His heartbeat pounded violently against his ribs, his mind racing to make sense of what he had just seen.

"This… This can't be real," Jongsuk muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands trembled as he tried to reach for the phone again, but he hesitated—afraid of confirming what he already suspected.

Jae Ahn, watching him, felt a chill crawl down his spine. "Jongsuk… what did you see?"

But Jongsuk couldn't answer. His lips parted slightly, his throat dry, as an unfamiliar fear gripped him—one that told him their lives were about to change forever...

Jae Ahn took a deep breath, steadying himself before placing a firm hand on Jongsuk's trembling shoulder. His grip was warm, grounding.

"Jongsuk, look at me," he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "Breathe. Just breathe."

Jongsuk's chest rose and fell unevenly as he struggled to calm down, his eyes still locked onto the fallen phone.

"I don't know what you saw," Jae Ahn continued, his tone softer now, "but we need to stay clear-headed. Panicking won't change what's in that video… but understanding it will."

Jongsuk swallowed hard, nodding slightly. His hands clenched into fists as he forced himself to steady his breath.

Jae Ahn picked up the phone, his gaze darkening. "Let's watch it again. This time, we won't look away."

Jae Ahn's fingers tightened around the phone as his thoughts raced.

"If this video exists... then someone was there. Someone saw everything." His heartbeat pounded in his ears. "An eyewitness to my brother's murder... but why now? Why send this to after all these years?"

His mind spiraled with questions. Was this a warning? A plea for help? Or a cruel game played by someone lurking in the shadows?

Jae Ahn exhaled sharply, his gaze dark and unwavering. "Whoever sent this... they're telling us the past isn't buried yet."

Do Hwan's breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the bracelet on the killer's wrist. A cold chill crawled up his spine.

"Wait… that bracelet…" His fingers trembled as he paused the video, zooming in. The dim lighting made it hard to see, but there was no mistaking it. His pulse pounded in his ears.

"This… this bracelet—Jae Ahn's brother bought it. He asked me to give it to Jae Ahn for his birthday."

A sickening realization twisted in his gut. Then why… why is it on the wrist of a murderer?