1: (CHASING GHOSTS)

Chasing the illusion of Sangwoo who crossed the street with another woman.

Bum runs after him, crossing the road without looking. then,

The pedestrian lights turns redー

He got struck by car.

Sirens wail as Seungbae, who has been searching for Yoonbum everywhere,

notices certain things. He suspects that

Bum might have gone back to Sangwoo's house.

The place scattered with Sangwoo's ashes.

Gripping the ring and keeping it in his pocket, Yoonbum runs to the road,

chasing his dead lover.

Detective Seungbae was indeed clever and sharp. Deep down he knows that yoonbum loves sangwoo so much that he allowed to be abused by his so called cousin.

Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome, he thought, or maybe his gratitude and reliance on Sangwoo, who had let him stay with him and set him free from the hands of Bum's uncle who raped him.

"I should have noticed earlier." Seungbae muttered.

As he drives toward Sangwoo's house, speeding through the narrow alley, his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. He just hopesーpraysーthat nothing bad has happened to Yoonbum.

But as he nears Sangwoo's house. He hears sirens.

Seungbae's eyes snap to the street. People are crowded in the middle of the road. And thenー

Blood.

His face freezes. Cold sweat slides down his forehead as he hastily exits the car, running toward the street.

There, lying motionless, is a young boy with blood pooling beneath him. Too much blood. For a moment, Seungbae isn't sure who it is.

But then he sees the jacket.

Yoonbum.

Seungbae rushes forward, helping the paramedics as they push through the gathering crowd. The car that struck Yoonbum had crashed into a pole while trying to flee. Nearby officers already had the driver in custody.

"I didn't hit him! He ran into the street without looking—that's not my fault!" the driver exclaims.

The officers don't seem convinced.

"But sir," one of them says, narrowing his eyes. "Your car has an illegal plate. We're going to have to check it out. And if the man you hit dies… this could be murder."

The driver starts sweating. "I—I wasn't trying to— I was just speeding, I swear!"

The officers begin patting him down.

And then—

They find a gun.

The driver stiffens.

"Sir? What's this?" The officer holds up the weapon. "We're going to need to confiscate this."

The driver panics. In a split second, he kicks the officer in the chin, sending him staggering backward.

He lunges for his carーbut Seungbae's hands grabs him.

The driver struggles, trying to pull away, but Seungbae doesn't budge. With practiced ease, the detective wrenches the gun from his grip, twists his arm, and cuffs him.

The driver glares at him.

"Ha! The wannabe cop from Seoul. Weren't you causing enough trouble at the police station? Now you're trying to arrest innocent people on the road, just like you did with that beggar years ago? Hungry for position?"

Seungbae clenches his jaw. The words irritate him—but now isn't the time.

Instead, he tightens his grip. "So… how could you crash into someone on an empty road?"

The driver hesitates. "I—I was speeding! That idiot ran across the street without looking! I swear!"

Seungbae studies him. "We'll confirm that through your black box footage."

The driver fidgets. But after a moment, he nods, handing it over.

Seungbae threw him into the police car and drove him to the police station, while the other officer, who had been kicked and fallen, was taken to the ambulance. The man fidgeted with his fingers, asking Seungbae,

"When are we gonna arrive?" — in a rude tone.

"Soon," Seungbae answered.

The man clicked his tongue and stared out the backseat window, his hands cuffed in front of him.

As they arrived at the police station, the man struggled a bit with his hands still bound. Seungbae got out of the car, opened the back door, and the man leaned forward as Seungbae stepped backward—causing them to fall to the ground.

"Don't play around," Seungbae said.

"I wasn't!" the man replied.

They entered the police station, where Seungbae greeted his subordinate, Lee.

"Yang Seungbae! You've been busy these few days! Who are you bringing in now?" Lee asked.

"It's the man who crashed into the rehabilitated victim of Oh Sangwoo," Seungbae replied.

"Sit, and we'll conduct an interrogation."

As Officer Lee and the suspect went into the interrogation room, Seungbae checked the black box footage on his computer, unloading all the files and videos recorded in the car.

13… March.

He pulls up the relevant videos.

The first and second files show the driver's criminal records—narcotics, illegal plate businesses, theft. Nothing unusual.

"Hmm," he mumbled.

But then he opens the third file.

And the breath leaves his lungs.

The footage shows an empty street.

The driver speeds down the alleyway near the suburban area where Sangwoo's house is. But as he neared the main road—

A figure appears.

A man.

Tall. About 180 cm.

He walked past the camera with a brunette woman at his side. And just before disappearing from the frame—

He turns.

His eyes lock onto the car's dashcam.

And he smirks.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted, trying to confirm if what he saw was true. He clicked the mouse, replaying the footage, slowing it down by 0.5x.

The man crossed the street with a brunette woman holding a bag. As the man passed through the side of the screen, he glanced at the car camera with eyes that seemed to say,

"I know you're there."

Seungbae jolted in his chair, gasping for air.

Goosebumps spread over his skin,

And the terror of the serial killer flooded back—

Memories of how he had been shunned and kicked out of his occupation,

Unable to catch the murderer right in front of him.

His palms were wet, and his forehead burned with heat.

Bursting through the door and ran to the bathroom,

Splashing his face with cold water to calm his head.

"Calm down... calm down..." he muttered.

"He's dead. He's dead from the house fire... remember, Seungbae... remember..." He whispered to himself.

As he blinked and looked into the mirror, a shadow appeared.

It was Sangwoo.

His face grinned widely, eyes locked on Seungbae.

"I know you're there," the shadow seemed to say.

Seungbae stepped backward, trembling, shouting, "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" His voice cracked as his hands covered his face.

"I know you're there... pestering me again."

"Oh, poor detective," the shadow mocked.

Yang Seungbae gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and punched the bathroom mirror until it shattered into pieces. His fist bled across the bathroom floor.

He walked out with a dark expression—swollen eyes, pale face, trembling hands, blood on his shirt and shoes, pants wet from the bathroom floor. He grabbed his bag, opened the door, and left the police station.

---

Meanwhile, the interrogation was a success.

Officer Lee had uncovered details about where the driver had been purchasing drugs, as well as the supplier of the illegal plates and the clients involved. The man had business dealings with the mafia and human traffickers, and to avoid being tailed by authorities, they had the plates made illegally, making them untraceable.

"How many years have you been doing this?" Officer Lee asked.

"As long as it could get," the man replied with a grin.

Officer Lee hit the man's hand with a rolled-up paper.

"Fifteen years," the man finally answered.

"So, what was the name of your top client?" Lee asked.

"..Oh Junwoo."

Lee's mind scattered.

'Oh'... 'Oh' Sangwoo... 'Oh' Junwoo.

He grabbed his pen and wrote down his notes. The suspect looked confused.

"Do you know him?" the man asked.

"No, but I know his son," Lee replied in a ghastly tone.

The air in the police station grew heavy. Officer Lee gripped his pen so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Oh Junwoo… the name alone sent a chill down his spine.

Could it be a coincidence? Or was there something deeper—something that connected back to him?

Lee quickly excused himself, exiting the interrogation room with shaky hands. He needed to find Seungbae.

But when he turned to Seungbae's desk, the chair was empty. Blood was smeared across the desk, trailing toward the exit.

Lee's stomach dropped.

What the hell happened here?

---

Seungbae stumbled through the narrow streets, his vision unfocused, breath erratic.

The ringing in his ears wouldn't stop.

His bloodied hand throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the chaos in his mind.

The footage kept replaying in his head—

that man.

The way he turned, the way his eyes glinted in the camera, that smirk. It can't be.

He felt insane for even considering it.

Sangwoo was dead. Burned to ashes.

He saw the reports himself.

But… what if…

He stopped in front of the ruins of Sangwoo's house. The place had been abandoned for months, reduced to a hollow skeleton of scorched walls and shattered glass.

And yet, standing there, Seungbae swore he felt something watching him.

His fingers clenched around the small object in his pocket—the ring. Yoonbum's ring. The one he must've been clutching before he ran into the street.

Why was he running?

Was it just a delusion? A desperate hallucination of his dead lover?

Or… was he chasing something real?

A sudden noise snapped Seungbae out of his daze. A soft crunch of gravel behind him.

He turned sharply, hand instinctively reaching for his gun.

Nothing.

Only the wind rustling through the debris.

His heartbeat hammered. I need to get a grip.

But then—

A voice.

Soft. Familiar. Amused.

"Detective… are you still chasing ghosts?"

Seungbae froze.

His breath hitched.

The blood in his veins turned to ice.

Because that voice…

It was him.

Seungbae's grip on his gun tightened as he turned slowly, his mind screaming at him that this wasn't possible.

But standing there, just beyond the crumbling doorway of Sangwoo's burned-down home, was a figure.

Tall. Lean. That same lazy posture, hands tucked into his pockets. His face was shadowed by the dim streetlights, but those eyes—sharp, knowing, cruel—gleamed in the dark like a predator amused by its prey.

It was him.

Oh Sangwoo.

Seungbae's throat went dry. His body refused to move, like he was stuck in some waking nightmare.

"…You're dead," he croaked.

The figure chuckled, the sound eerily soft.

"Am I?"

Seungbae's fingers trembled over the trigger. "I saw your body. You burned. We found your ashes—"

"Oh?" Sangwoo tilted his head, a smirk curling on his lips. "Then why are you seeing me now, detective?"

Seungbae's pulse roared in his ears.

This isn't real. It can't be.

His eyes flickered down to the ground. No shadow. No sign of real weight pressing against the dirt.

A hallucination? A trick of his overstressed mind?

But then—

A hand gripped his wrist. Tightly.

Seungbae sucked in a sharp breath. The touch was cold, unnervingly real.

"You look awful," Sangwoo murmured, eyes lazily scanning his bloodied shirt, his trembling fingers. "Did you miss me that much?"

Seungbae ripped his arm away, stumbling back. His mind raced. This isn't possible. This isn't—

He raised his gun, finger hovering over the trigger. "I should shoot you. Right now."

Sangwoo didn't even flinch. If anything,

his grin widened.

"But you won't," he said simply.

Seungbae's grip tightened.

"Because you're not sure, are you?"

Sangwoo took a slow step forward, the amusement in his voice sending a chill down Seungbae's spine. "You're wondering if I'm real. If you've finally lost it."

Seungbae forced himself to breathe. He needed to think. Focus.

If this was a delusion—then fine. He'd pull the trigger and prove it.

But if it wasn't…

Sangwoo leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"…Bum saw me too."

Seungbae's breath caught.

His entire body went rigid.

"…What?"

A soft chuckle. "Didn't you wonder why he ran?"

Seungbae's mind reeled. Yoonbum had been chasing something—someone—before he got hit. He had looked desperate, frantic. Like he'd seen a ghost.

No.

Like he'd seen Sangwoo.

"I was right there," Sangwoo continued, his tone laced with something almost gentle. "Right across the street. I watched him run to me. And then…" He made a small 'tsk' sound, shaking his head. "Such bad timing. Poor Bum."

Seungbae's stomach churned.

No. No, this isn't real. It can't be.

"You died," he hissed, shaking. "I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, but—"

Sangwoo exhaled, almost bored. "You're repeating yourself."

He reached into his pocket. Seungbae immediately aimed his gun at him—

—but Sangwoo only pulled out something small.

A silver ring.

Yoonbum's ring.

Seungbae's blood turned to ice.

He checked Bum's body earlier. The ring was still on him, gripped tightly in his hand.

But now—

Sangwoo rolled the ring between his fingers, smirking. "I think this belongs to him, doesn't it?"

Seungbae's world tilted. His breath came in short, shallow gasps.

This wasn't a hallucination.

This wasn't just his mind playing tricks.

Sangwoo—somehow, impossibly,

Sangwoo—was standing right in front of him.

And he was smiling.

"Good seeing you again, detective,"

Sangwoo murmured.

Then, in the blink of an eye—

He was gone.

Seungbae staggered backward, his gun still raised, his breath ragged. His eyes darted around the ruins of Sangwoo's burned house—empty. No footprints in the dirt. No sign that anyone had been there at all.

His fingers twitched. His body felt like it had been submerged in ice water. The ring—Bum's ring—had just been in Sangwoo's hand, but when Seungbae looked down at his own palm…

The ring was back in his pocket.

His stomach churned. His breathing quickened.

What the hell is happening?

A hallucination. It had to be. His mind was under too much stress.

That's what it was. But then why did he feel Sangwoo's hand on his wrist?

Why did he see the ring?

Why did Yoonbum run across the street like he had seen his dead lover?

Seungbae squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to move. Think. He had to think.

He needed to go back to the police station. He needed to see Yoonbum. Now.

ー

When Seungbae pushed through the hospital doors, his whole body was trembling. The sharp smell of antiseptic made his head pound, but he forced himself forward.

He found Yoonbum's room easily—police officers were stationed outside, likely to question him when he woke up.

But inside, Bum was already awake.

Seungbae stopped in the doorway. Yoonbum sat up in bed, his thin frame wrapped in bandages, his face pale and sunken. He stared at nothing, his fingers twitching against the sheets.

A nurse tried to talk to him. "Sir? Can you hear me?"

Bum didn't respond. He just kept staring. His lips moved slightly, whispering something too soft to hear.

Seungbae stepped closer, pulse hammering. "Yoonbum."

Bum flinched. Slowly, slowly, he turned his head toward Seungbae.

And when Seungbae saw his eyes—

His blood ran cold.

Tears streamed down Bum's face. His pupils were blown wide, dark and lost. His lips trembled as he whispered again, barely audible.

Seungbae leaned in. "What did you say?"

Bum blinked slowly, like he wasn't all there. Then, in the quietest, most broken voice—

"…He's back."

Seungbae's breath caught. Bum's whole body shivered as he continued, his voice raw with something between terror and longing.

"Sangwoo… he's back."