8: (THE GAME RESUMES)

Hyunwoo wasn't scared of much. He'd been in fights. Been chased down for debts he owed. Even had a knife pulled on him once.

But right now?

He felt hunted.

His pulse hammered in his ears as he and Seungbae stood frozen under the flickering streetlights, the live photo still glowing on the detective's phone screen.

Someone was watching them.

Someone was here.

Seungbae's grip on his phone tightened. Without a word, he stepped forward, eyes scanning the dark alleyways and rooftops around them. His entire body was tense, alert—like a wolf catching the scent of a predator.

Hyunwoo swallowed, trying to shake off the creeping dread curling in his gut.

"Alright, man. What the hell is going on?"

Seungbae ignored him, walking further into the empty street.

"Hey." Hyunwoo hurried after him, voice lower now. "If this is some serial killer shit, I'd really appreciate a warning."

Still, no answer.

Seungbae suddenly crouched near a lamppost, picking something up off the ground.

A cigarette butt. Still faintly burning.

Someone had been standing right here. Watching them.

Hyunwoo exhaled through his nose.

"You're gonna tell me who the hell we're dealing with, right?"

Seungbae finally looked at him, and—shit.

Hyunwoo had never seen fear in the detective's eyes before. Annoyance? Sure. Frustration? Constantly. But this? This was different.

Seungbae stood up. His voice was flat, controlled.

"We need to leave. Now."

And that? That was a huge red flag.

Detectives don't run.

Detectives don't back down.

But Seungbae was already moving, fast, toward his car.

Hyunwoo felt his stomach twist. If Seungbae was scared—really scared—then they were in deep shit.

He turned to follow—

And then the streetlight went out.

Darkness swallowed the road.

Hyunwoo froze. His breath hitched.

Everything was too quiet.

Not a single sound. No wind. No distant cars.

Just silence.

Then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps.

Slow. Unhurried.

Coming from behind.

A chill ran down Hyunwoo's spine.

Seungbae must have heard it too, because he stopped dead in his tracks, shoulders stiff.

Neither of them turned around.

For a long, terrible moment, the footsteps continued—closer.

Then—

A voice.

Soft. Amused.

"Took you long enough."

Hyunwoo's blood turned to ice.

Because even though he didn't know this guy, even though he'd never heard this voice before—

He knew.

Knew, in the deepest part of him, that this was the thing Seungbae had been chasing. The thing that had made him afraid.

The thing that had just found them.

Sangwoo.

He was here.

Hyunwoo's fingers twitched. His fight-or-flight instincts screamed at him to run.

But then Sangwoo sighed.

"You're gonna ignore me? After I went through all this trouble?"

Casual. Mocking.

Like this was a game.

Seungbae moved first.

Fast. Too fast. He grabbed Hyunwoo's arm, yanking him toward the car. "Move."

Hyunwoo barely had time to react—

Because the second they took a step—

A knife whizzed past his face.

Hyunwoo flinched, his breath stuttering as the blade embedded itself into a nearby wooden pole.

Too close.

Way too close.

Then—laughter.

A soft chuckle, like Sangwoo was delighted.

"Oh?" Sangwoo mused. "You actually dodged?"

Hyunwoo's heartbeat pounded against his ribs. His legs locked in place.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This guy wasn't normal.

He didn't just throw that knife—he had aimed. Calculated. Measured.

And the worst part?

He wasn't even trying yet.

Seungbae let out a low, steady breath. His hand dropped to the gun holster at his waist.

Hyunwoo saw the shift in his stance—the way his fingers curled, his weight shifted forward—

And then he moved.

Fast. Smooth. A trained motion—

He pulled the gun.

Aimed.

Bang.

The shot echoed through the street.

Hyunwoo barely had time to register what happened—

Before a dark blur moved too quickly out of the way.

Sangwoo dodged.

Laughed.

And in the next second, his voice was right behind them.

"Ah, ah," he teased. "That's not very nice, Detective."

Hyunwoo turned—too late.

A hand shoved him forward.

His body lurched—

And then he was falling.

The world spun. His hands scraped against the pavement as he crashed to the ground, breath knocked from his lungs.

Dazed. Confused.

Then—

Seungbae shouted.

Not in pain. Not in fear.

In rage.

Hyunwoo pushed himself up, chest heaving. He looked up—

And his stomach dropped.

Sangwoo stood there. Right there.

Just inches from Seungbae.

His eyes curved in amusement, lips curled into a smile that wasn't a smile at all.

Like he was having fun.

Seungbae had his gun raised, but—Sangwoo's fingers were already wrapped around his wrist.

Squeezing.

"Come on," Sangwoo murmured, tilting his head. "You can do better than that."

Seungbae snarled.

Then—a sharp crack.

Seungbae's wrist bent back—wrong.

His gun clattered to the ground.

Hyunwoo's breath caught. Shit.

Sangwoo smiled wider.

"There we go."

Then—his gaze flicked to Hyunwoo.

And that's when the real terror set in.

Because those eyes—cold, empty, playful—landed on him like he was nothing more than a toy.

Something to break.

Something to ruin.

And Hyunwoo realized, with a sickening certainty—

That this?

This was never just about Seungbae.

Sangwoo had found a new game.

And Hyunwoo was part of it now.

ー

The city streets stretched ahead, empty but alive with a quiet, humming tension. Past midnight, the world felt different—like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Yoonbum stood at the bus stop, his arms wrapped around himself, trembling slightly from the cold—or maybe from something else. His breath came fast, too shallow, as he stared at his phone screen.

Meet me. I'll take you away from this.

His fingers hovered over the screen, heart pounding in his ears. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't even be considering this.

But it was him.

It didn't matter that logic screamed at him to turn back. That part of his mind was weak—easily drowned out by something far louder. The longing. The hunger. The desperate need to believe this wasn't a trick.

He was tired of running in circles. Tired of the empty spaces Sangwoo had left behind.

If this was real—if there was even the smallest chance that Sangwoo was really standing on the other side of that message—

Then he would go.

Because even after everything, after the pain, after the scars—

He still wanted only him.

ー

Seungbae leaned against his desk in the station, rubbing his temples. His head ached from exhaustion, his body heavy with the weight of too many dead ends.

It didn't make sense.

The case was closed. The fire had wiped out everything. The body was gone, reduced to ashes. He was dead.

And yet, someone was toying with him—dangling Sangwoo's ghost in front of his face like a sick joke.

The videos. The calls. The voice.

And the worst part?

A part of him believed it.

His phone buzzed on the desk. Another notification. Seungbae sighed, expecting another useless tip—

But then he saw it.

Security camera footage.

His breath hitched. His pulse quickened.

He tapped the file open.

A grainy image appeared—an empty street, late at night.

Then, a figure stepped into view.

Yoonbum.

Seungbae stiffened, gripping the phone tighter. His eyes scanned the footage, searching—why was he there?

Then—another figure appeared.

Tall. Lean. The way he moved was smooth, effortless—like a predator.

Seungbae's stomach turned to ice.

For a moment, the footage blurred. The streetlights flickered.

Then, just before the video cut off—

A smile.

A cruel, lazy grin that sent every alarm in Seungbae's body blaring.

His hands clenched into fists.

No.

Not again.

He shoved his phone into his pocket, grabbed his coat, and stormed toward the exit.

The station was quiet. Most officers had left for the night. No one stopped him as he pushed through the doors, his breath sharp in the cold air.

He barely felt the chill.

All he could hear was his heartbeat, his own voice screaming in his head.

He knew that smile.

He had seen it a hundred times in case files. In interrogation rooms. In his nightmares.

Oh Sangwoo was dead.

So why the hell did it feel like he was one step behind him again?

Seungbae climbed into his car and slammed the door shut. His fingers trembled as he started the engine.

He didn't know where Yoonbum was going.

But if he didn't stop him now—

He might never get another chance.

ー

The alley was dark, narrow, swallowed by shadows. Yoonbum's breath came fast as he stood there, his pulse a frantic drum beneath his skin.

Then—

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Unhurried.

And then—

A voice.

"Bum."

Yoonbum's breath hitched.

The footsteps stopped just ahead, and out of the darkness, he stepped forward.

Sangwoo.

He looked the same.

The same dark hair, tousled as if he had just run a hand through it. The same sharp gaze, watching him with something unreadable—like he was trying to decide whether to be amused or bored.

The same smirk curling at his lips, knowing and cruel and so damn familiar.

Yoonbum felt like he couldn't breathe.

His body was frozen, trapped in the past. In that house. In those years of fear and devotion, pain and worship.

This wasn't real.

It couldn't be.

And yet—

He couldn't look away.

"You're shaking," Sangwoo murmured, taking a step closer.

Yoonbum flinched, his breath stuttering.

Sangwoo chuckled. "You wanted this, didn't you?"

His fingers reached out, grazing Yoonbum's cheek.

It was warm.

It was real.

A shudder ran through Yoonbum's body, his knees weak. His vision blurred at the edges. He wanted to speak, but his throat was dry, strangled by emotion.

Sangwoo tilted his head, watching him like a cat watching a trapped bird.

"You're still mine, aren't you?"

The words hit Yoonbum like a blow to the chest.

His lips trembled.

Yes.

He wanted to say it.

Wanted to fall to his knees, to grab onto him, to never let go.

He shouldn't.

He knew he shouldn't.

But he had already lost.

So, in a voice so small it was almost swallowed by the night, he whispered—

"…Take me with you."

Sangwoo's smirk widened.

And just like that—

The world disappeared.

ー

Seungbae's car tore through the streets, the speedometer needle pushing higher.

He was running out of time.

His mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

If Sangwoo was really alive—if he had Bum again—

No. He wouldn't let it happen.

Not this time.

He gritted his teeth as he took another sharp turn. The GPS tracker on his phone blinked—he was close.

Then, ahead—

Two figures.

One small. Fragile.

And beside him—

Tall. Confident. Moving with the same lazy, deliberate ease as always.

Seungbae's heart stopped.

No.

It wasn't possible.

But the way Sangwoo turned his head—

Like he knew he was there.

Like he was waiting for him.

Their eyes met through the windshield.

And Sangwoo smiled.

A slow, deliberate curve of his lips—mocking, taunting.

Then—

He grabbed Yoonbum's wrist.

And ran.

Seungbae cursed, slamming on the brakes. His tires screeched against the pavement as he threw the car door open, gun already in hand.

"STOP!"

But they were gone.

Swallowed by the alleyways, the dark streets, the city that never slept.

Seungbae stood there, chest heaving, his grip so tight on his gun that his knuckles turned white.

He had been too slow.

Again.

His breath came out sharp, ragged. His jaw clenched.

But if Sangwoo thought this was over—if he thought he could win again—

He was wrong.

Seungbae wouldn't stop.

Even if it killed him.

ー

Seungbae had seen monsters before.

He had chased criminals, murderers, men who thought they could play god with the lives of others. He had looked them in the eye, seen the sickness that lurked beneath their skin, the hunger for power, for control, for cruelty.

But Oh Sangwoo was different.

Seungbae didn't just want to catch him.

He wanted to break him.

Wanted to see him shackled, dragged through the dirt, stripped of the arrogance that made him untouchable.

Wanted him rotting behind bars where he couldn't lay a single, poisonous finger on another person.

Or better yet—

Wanted him hanging from a rope, his body swinging limp, his breath stolen away just like the countless victims he had toyed with, torn apart, discarded like trash.

Seungbae's hatred for Sangwoo wasn't just professional.

It was personal.

Because Sangwoo had humiliated him. Had laughed in his face as the system failed again and again, letting him walk free while Seungbae was branded a fool.

Because Sangwoo had played with lives like they were nothing.

Because Seungbae had seen the photos—the real ones. The bodies left behind. The evidence that never made it into the public reports. The blood-stained walls, the twisted limbs, the terror frozen in the faces of those who never escaped.

Because Seungbae had seen Yoonbum's scars.

The cigarette burns, the old cuts, the way his bones looked too sharp under his skin, like he had been living off fear alone.

And now, that pathetic bastard had crawled back to Sangwoo.

Seungbae clenched his fists, his teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached.

He should have put Sangwoo down when he had the chance. Should have pulled the trigger that night in the house, ended the game before it spiraled into this madness again.

He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

If he had to chase Sangwoo across the country, hunt him like the animal he was, drag him kicking and screaming into a courtroom—

He would.

And if the system failed again—if the law still couldn't hold him—

Then Seungbae would take justice into his own hands.

One way or another—

Oh Sangwoo was going to pay.

ー

Seungbae sat at his desk, staring at the crime board in front of him. Strings connected old case files, crime scene photos, and Sangwoo's burnt-down house—except now, a new picture was pinned at the center.

The grainy CCTV image of a man walking down a dimly lit alley.

Oh Sangwoo.

Or someone who looked just like him.

Seungbae's jaw clenched. He had spent years trying to prove Sangwoo was a murderer. He had fought against the corruption in the force, the sneers of his colleagues, the dead ends that led to nothing. And in the end, Sangwoo had died before he could drag him to prison himself.

But now?

Now the bastard might still be alive.

And if he was, Seungbae wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Sangwoo was going to pay. Whether that meant prison or a noose, Seungbae didn't care.

He was going to end this.

ー

Elsewhere…

Kang Hyunwoo leaned against his car, arms crossed, watching Seungbae with a lazy smirk. "You really expect me to help you with this?"

Seungbae didn't look up. He was loading his gun, checking every bullet with careful precision. "You're already here, aren't you?"

Hyunwoo scoffed. "Yeah, well. You're fun to mess with."

Seungbae snapped the magazine into place. "I don't care why you're here. Just don't get in my way."

Hyunwoo rolled his eyes but didn't argue. There was something different in Seungbae this time—something colder. The man had always been obsessive, but this was something else.

A personal vendetta.

Hyunwoo knew that look well.

"Fine," he sighed, pushing off the car.

"Where do we start?"

Seungbae finally turned to him, expression unreadable.

"We start by finding Yoonbum."

Because if anyone knew where Sangwoo was…

It was him.

And Seungbae wasn't going to let him slip through his fingers. Not again.

ー

The Game Resumes

Yoonbum sat in the dim motel room, knees pulled to his chest, hands trembling. The air smelled of damp wood and cigarette smoke, but he barely noticed.

His eyes were glued to the old flip phone on the bed.

A message.

"It's time, Bum. Meet me."

His breath hitched. His fingers hovered over the buttons, hesitating.

He should ignore it. He should run. He should tell someone—anyone.

But he wouldn't.

Because the truth was…

He wanted this.

He wanted Sangwoo.

Even if it meant losing himself all over again.

So he picked up the phone.

And he answered.

"Where?"

And across the city, in the shadows of an alley, someone smiled.

Because the game had just begun again.