Ji-hoon's fingers felt raw from the tension that had gripped them, but it was a different kind of pressure that pressed down on him now. The air in the conservatory was thick with anticipation. Everything around him seemed to stand still, suspended in the aftermath of what had happened over the past few days. The chilling truth that Do-yoon had left him to wrestle with, like a ghost haunting his every thought, was only the beginning. There was more to this twisted puzzle—more pieces that had yet to fall into place.
He wasn't alone in this.
Seol-ah had been avoiding him lately. Ever since the last rehearsal, she had kept her distance, never meeting his gaze, always finding an excuse to leave just before he could approach her. He had noticed the subtle change, the way her eyes lingered on him just a little too long before she turned away. It was as if she was hiding something—something she didn't want him to see, didn't want anyone to discover.
But Ji-hoon wasn't the only one who noticed. His best friend, Joon-won, had also become suspicious, though he hadn't said much. The worry in his voice whenever he asked about Seol-ah had grown more noticeable. Even Hye-jin, normally so focused on her violin, had mentioned in passing that there was a shift in Seol-ah's demeanor. It wasn't just the coldness. It was the secrecy, the way she kept things to herself, like she was trying to protect something, or worse, protect someone.
Ji-hoon couldn't shake the feeling that Seol-ah was more tangled up in this than she let on.
It wasn't until he was alone in the practice room late one evening, the echoes of a broken song still lingering in the air, that the answer came to him—unbidden, almost too clear to ignore.
The door creaked open, and Seol-ah stepped in, her posture tense, her eyes darting toward him as if she hadn't expected him to be there. She looked pale, her usual composure replaced by something almost fragile. She hadn't been like this before. Something was wrong. Ji-hoon had been trying to avoid confronting her—he wasn't sure he was ready for the truth that might follow. But in that moment, with only the faintest light streaming through the window, he knew it was time.
He lowered his hands from the piano, turning toward her, his gaze steady. "You've been avoiding me."
Seol-ah's breath hitched, and for a split second, she seemed to consider walking away. But she didn't. Instead, she stood in the doorway, her fingers clutching the handle as if it were the only thing anchoring her.
"I haven't," she said, though her voice faltered. "I've just… been busy."
"Busy with what?" Ji-hoon pressed, his voice colder than he intended. "You haven't been yourself. You're acting like you're hiding something, Seol-ah. What's going on?"
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Ji-hoon waited, his patience running thin. He knew she was struggling, but there was only so much time he could give her to come clean.
Seol-ah took a shaky step inside the room and closed the door behind her. The movement seemed to weigh her down, as if the decision to speak had already been made. "It's not what you think," she whispered, her eyes briefly meeting his before dropping to the floor.
Ji-hoon frowned. He could feel the panic rising in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Then what is it?"
Seol-ah's hands trembled as she reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a small, crumpled envelope. It was old, the edges frayed, and it had clearly been handled many times. She stared at it for a long moment, her thumb tracing the torn paper before she finally handed it to him.
He didn't take it immediately. Instead, he examined her face, searching for some clue—anything—that might explain this strange behavior. But there was nothing. Only the sharpness of her silence, the quiet resignation in her eyes. It wasn't until the weight of her gaze became too much to bear that he slowly reached out and took the envelope from her hand.
Seol-ah watched him with barely restrained fear, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
Ji-hoon's fingers hesitated before tearing open the envelope. Inside was a letter—no, it wasn't a letter. It was a document, a report of some kind. His brow furrowed as he read the first few lines, the words jumping out at him like they were seared into his mind.
It was a police report.
A cold chill spread through him as he absorbed the details. The date. The location. The names involved. And then the one name that stopped his heart cold.
"Seol-ah," Ji-hoon whispered, his voice breaking as he looked up from the document. "This… this is about your father."
Seol-ah's face drained of color. She closed her eyes, her hands trembling at her sides, and nodded. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want anyone to know."
The weight of her words hit him with the force of a tidal wave. The report detailed the mysterious death of Seol-ah's father, a well-known businessman who had been found dead under suspicious circumstances. The police had never fully investigated, chalking it up to an accident, but the evidence painted a different picture. It suggested foul play. It suggested murder.
But what struck Ji-hoon more than the details of the case was the final line of the report:
Suspect: Yoon Si-wan.
"Evidence always leads to him," Ji-hoon muttered, his voice barely audible as the weight of the words seemed to crush the air between them. His hand trembled as he held the document, his mind racing. The name Yoon Si-wan was etched into the report like a brand, and it twisted something deep inside him.
Seol-ah's eyes flickered to his, a fleeting moment of vulnerability in them. She hadn't expected him to make the connection so quickly, and the shock on her face mirrored the growing horror inside him.
"I didn't want you to know," she said again, her voice cracking. She took a step back, as if afraid that her proximity to him might somehow pull him deeper into the web she had been caught in. "It's not like you think. I swear."
Ji-hoon's gaze never left her, but he felt the coldness of the room seep into his bones. He felt as though he had stepped into something far darker than he had ever anticipated. The name Si-wan had always lingered at the edges of his awareness, always present like a shadow, but now it was front and center, like a dangerous specter waiting to consume everything in its path.
"How could you not want me to know?" Ji-hoon asked, his voice tight, a blend of anger and confusion. "You've been hiding this from everyone. From me. And for what? To protect him?" His words grew sharper with every syllable, a mixture of disbelief and betrayal. He had thought he knew Seol-ah, but now, everything he had assumed about her was crumbling away like dust in his hands.
Seol-ah shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears that she refused to let fall. "It's not like that. I wasn't protecting him. I was protecting myself. You have to understand, Ji-hoon. My father's death… it's not something I can talk about easily. There's more to this than you know."
Her words hung in the air like a dark promise, but Ji-hoon was too consumed by the details of the report to process anything beyond the name he had just read. Yoon Si-wan. He had heard that name before, in whispers and through rumors, but never with such weight. Never tied to Seol-ah's past.
"You don't get it," Seol-ah continued, her voice trembling with the weight of the unspoken truth. "When my father died, everyone thought it was an accident. But I knew. I knew something was off. And when the investigation went cold… when they stopped looking, I kept digging. I had to know what really happened. And every piece of evidence I found… every single clue… it always led to him."
The finality in her voice made Ji-hoon pause. He wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he felt the gnawing sensation of dread creep over him as he processed what she had said. Si-wan was involved in this somehow. The man who had been a part of his life for longer than he cared to admit. The man whose face haunted his nightmares.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Ji-hoon's voice broke, frustration mixing with a growing sense of betrayal. "Why now, Seol-ah? Why wait until it's already this far gone?"
Seol-ah's eyes darkened as she finally met his gaze, her expression haunted. "Because I didn't know who to trust," she whispered. "Because I knew that if I told anyone… if I told you, it would make everything worse. Si-wan doesn't leave things like this to chance. He covers his tracks. If I said anything—if I told the police, or anyone—I would be putting myself and everyone I care about in danger."
She turned away then, walking toward the window, her back rigid. Ji-hoon watched her, his mind spinning with conflicting thoughts. How could he not have seen it? How had he been so blind to the danger that surrounded them both?
"What are you saying?" Ji-hoon's voice was quiet now, but the underlying fear was clear. "That Si-wan is behind your father's death? That he killed him?"
Seol-ah didn't answer immediately. She stood at the window, her hands gripping the sill, as if she were trying to steady herself against the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, heavy with something unspoken.
"I don't know if he killed him," she said. "But I know he's involved. He has connections. And those connections… they go deeper than anyone could imagine. When my father died, it wasn't just a random act. It was orchestrated. There were people behind it. Powerful people. And Si-wan… he's the one who has all the answers."
Ji-hoon's heart raced in his chest. Everything Seol-ah was saying was too much to comprehend all at once. He had always known that Si-wan was a man of power, of influence, but this? This was something else entirely.
"So, what now?" Ji-hoon asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What do we do now? You can't just keep hiding this, Seol-ah. This isn't something you can protect yourself from forever."
Seol-ah finally turned to face him, her eyes filled with the weight of the burden she had been carrying for so long. "I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I've been trying to figure it out. Trying to find a way to expose him. But every time I get close, I can feel the walls closing in. I'm trapped in this, Ji-hoon. And I don't know how much longer I can keep running from it."
Ji-hoon stood in silence, his thoughts a whirlwind. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort her. This wasn't something that could be fixed with words. This was bigger than both of them. Bigger than anything they had ever faced. And yet, somehow, they were tied to it. Tied to Si-wan and the dark secrets that surrounded him.
Seol-ah's voice was barely audible as she spoke again. "I thought I could do this on my own. I thought I could protect everyone by staying silent. But now I realize… I can't. I need help, Ji-hoon. I need you."
The vulnerability in her voice hit him like a punch to the gut. She had always been so strong, so composed. To hear her say those words—I need you—made his heart ache.
But in the same breath, it brought him back to the terrifying reality they were both trapped in. Yoon Si-wan was not just a man of power. He was a force. A dangerous, manipulative force. And they were standing right in the middle of it.
"I'll help you," Ji-hoon said, the determination in his voice rising despite the fear that gnawed at him. "We'll figure this out. Together."
Seol-ah looked at him, her eyes wide, a mix of hope and doubt in them. "Do you really think we can take him down?"
Ji-hoon met her gaze, his voice steady but laced with a quiet resolve. "If there's anyone who can, it's us."
And with that, the two of them stood together in the dimly lit room, the weight of their decision settling between them like a heavy burden. They were no longer just friends caught in a web of secrets. They were now players in a game they hadn't chosen, a game that was about to change everything.