The hallway outside the conservatory's practice room was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of a passing student or the soft murmur of a distant conversation. Ji-hoon sat alone in the dimly lit room, his mind swirling with everything that had come to light—everything that had been hidden for so long. The weight of it all, the music, the memories, the emotions, they clung to him like a second skin, suffocating him in a way that words could never truly convey.
But there was one thing—one final thread that he hadn't unraveled yet. Ara. The recording.
It was a piece of the puzzle he had only just begun to understand, and yet, it seemed like the key to unlocking everything. Everything about Si-wan. Everything about his mother's death. Everything about the dark truth that had been lurking beneath the surface for far too long.
The faint glow of the screen on Ji-hoon's phone illuminated the dark room, casting long shadows against the walls. He could still remember the moment he had found Ara's recording, hidden deep within the recesses of his phone's memory. It had been buried, as if someone had deliberately tried to erase it. But there it was, a recording from the night of his mother's death.
The file had been dated the same night his mother had died—an eerie coincidence, or perhaps not.
He had listened to it once, but the words had been too much to bear. Too painful. Too raw.
But now… now, with everything that had happened, he knew he couldn't avoid it any longer. He couldn't keep pretending that he didn't need the truth. He couldn't keep running from the final confession.
With a trembling hand, Ji-hoon pressed play.
A soft, distorted voice filled the room, accompanied by the faint sounds of rustling, like someone was shifting nervously in their seat. The crackling audio was far from perfect, but there was no mistaking the voice that soon cut through the static. It was Ara's.
"Ji-hoon," Ara's voice trembled in the recording, her words coming out in short, breathless bursts. "I… I don't know if you'll ever hear this, but I have to tell you. You have to know the truth… about that night. About what happened."
Ji-hoon's chest tightened as he leaned in closer, his heart hammering in his chest. He had heard bits and pieces of this before, but not like this. Not with the tremor in her voice. Not with the uncertainty.
"There was something wrong… something I couldn't understand. I thought I was doing the right thing, protecting you, but now, I don't know. Everything feels so twisted. I should've said something sooner. I should've—" Her voice faltered, and the sound of a door creaking opened briefly before she continued, her tone shaky and panicked.
"Si-wan. He… he was there. He had been planning something. I didn't know, Ji-hoon. I swear to God, I didn't know. But I think… I think he's the reason your mother—"
The recording cut out abruptly, the static filling the silence like an oppressive weight. Ji-hoon froze, the words hanging in the air like an open wound that wouldn't heal.
He gripped the phone tighter, the urge to play it again, to hear every word with more clarity, pushing him forward. But something in him hesitated. What if hearing more would break him even further? What if there was something in that recording that he wasn't ready to hear, something that would change everything he thought he knew about his mother's death?
But he couldn't stop now.
He played the recording again, this time bracing himself for what would come.
"Ara," Ji-hoon whispered, his voice barely audible against the weight of his thoughts.
Her voice returned, broken and frayed, as though it had been recorded under duress.
"Ji-hoon, please. If you're listening to this, I need you to understand… your mother knew something. I didn't believe her at first, but she… she was scared. She was scared of Si-wan. She knew he was planning something, but I didn't see it until it was too late. She tried to stop him, to protect you. She tried, but she couldn't. Si-wan… he wasn't just after her. He was after you, Ji-hoon. He wanted to take everything. He wanted to ruin everything you held dear. He—"
The recording abruptly cut off again, and Ji-hoon's heart raced. He had heard enough. The words that rang in his ears were enough to shatter his already fragile sense of reality. Si-wan had been planning something that night. And Ara had known. She had been part of it—part of the lies, the cover-up, the deceit.
But why? Why had she stayed silent? Why had she waited so long to tell him? The questions clawed at his mind, demanding answers.
The silence in the room was suffocating. Ji-hoon's fingers tightened around the phone, the desire to destroy it, to throw it across the room overwhelming him. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he understood everything. Not until he knew what Ara had truly meant. What had she known? What had she seen? And why had she kept it from him?
He pressed the phone to his ear once more, but this time, he wasn't sure if he could bear to hear anything else. The truth was no longer just a fragment of his past—it was a shadow that loomed over him, threatening to engulf everything. Si-wan had been the orchestrator of it all. He had been the one pulling the strings, manipulating everyone around him, including Ara. But why?
The answers were just beyond his reach, taunting him like a cruel joke. The more he searched, the deeper the darkness seemed to get.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Ji-hoon whispered into the void, his voice breaking as he sank back into the chair. The weight of it all was suffocating. The truth was out there, but it was slipping through his fingers, just out of reach.
The recording had given him a glimpse of something—something far more dangerous than he could have imagined. And now, Ji-hoon wasn't sure if he was ready to face the full extent of it.
But one thing was certain: Si-wan wasn't done yet. And neither was Ji-hoon.
Ji-hoon felt the weight of the phone in his hand as if it were a heavy anchor, pulling him deeper into the chaos of his own mind. Ara's last words echoed through his head, growing louder with each passing second, and a horrible realization set in. He wasn't just fighting for the truth anymore—he was fighting for his own survival. Si-wan had been playing this game all along, and Ji-hoon had been too blind to see it until now.
The room around him felt cold, colder than it had ever been before. The sound of his breath, shallow and ragged, filled the silence. There were no answers, no comforting illusions left to hold on to. Everything he thought he knew had been shattered into pieces, and now he was left with only the wreckage of a life he didn't recognize.
Si-wan had been the mastermind behind everything. But why? What did he want from Ji-hoon? Ara's cryptic warning hung over him like a dark cloud. Si-wan was after more than just revenge; there was something far deeper, something personal, that Ji-hoon couldn't yet understand. And Ara—Ara had known. She had known what Si-wan was capable of, what he was planning, and she had kept that knowledge from him. Why?
The sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped him back to reality. He quickly locked the phone and stuffed it into his pocket, as though hiding it would somehow protect him from the weight of what he had just uncovered. His heart thudded against his chest, but he forced himself to stand, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. There was no time for weakness now.
He made his way to the door, opening it just enough to peer outside. A figure was standing in the corridor, barely visible in the dim light—just a shadow. But Ji-hoon knew exactly who it was.
"Seol-ah," he murmured, his voice low and strained.
She didn't speak immediately. Instead, she just stood there, her back pressed against the wall as if she were trying to disappear into it. The tension between them was palpable, thick with unsaid words and unanswered questions. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, Ji-hoon swore he saw something flicker behind them—fear, maybe, or perhaps guilt.
"Ji-hoon," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "You need to stop. This... this isn't what you think it is."
"Isn't what I think it is?" he repeated, his voice sharp with disbelief. "You don't get to tell me that, Seol-ah. Not after everything. After everything that's happened, I'm done letting people lie to me. I need the truth. I deserve the truth."
She flinched at his words, and it was enough to send a wave of disgust through him. He had trusted her once. He had believed in her, even when all the signs pointed toward her involvement in the mess that was his life now. But trust had always been a fragile thing, and now it was shattered beyond repair.
"You don't know everything," Seol-ah said, her voice breaking, her hands trembling slightly. "You think you do, but there's more. So much more. Please, don't do this. Don't go down this path, Ji-hoon. It won't end well for you."
He stepped forward, the space between them closing rapidly. "I already know everything I need to know. Si-wan's behind it all. You can't hide that from me anymore. Ara's recording—" He stopped, his breath hitching in his throat. "She said you were involved. That you were protecting him. Why, Seol-ah? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you warn me?"
Her eyes welled up with tears, but she didn't look away. Instead, she seemed to be gathering whatever strength she had left before speaking. "It's not that simple. It was never just about protecting Si-wan. I was trying to protect you, Ji-hoon. From him. From what he would do to you if you found out too soon. I couldn't just stand by and watch him tear you apart. I couldn't let you walk into that fire unprepared. You're not ready for the truth. You never were."
Ji-hoon's anger flared, but it was accompanied by a deep, sinking fear—fear of what he might actually be up against. "So you let me keep stumbling around in the dark, trying to make sense of everything, while you knew the whole time? You knew what Si-wan was capable of, and you never thought to warn me?"
"I couldn't. I was too scared," Seol-ah admitted, her voice barely above a whisper now. "I didn't think you'd believe me. And if I told you too much, it would've driven you to make a mistake. You don't know how dangerous he is, Ji-hoon. Not really. You think you're ready to take him on, but you're not. He'll destroy you."
The words stung, but beneath the sting, Ji-hoon felt something else—something that gnawed at him, something unsettling and sharp. Seol-ah was afraid. He could see it in her eyes, the way she refused to meet his gaze for too long. The way she was trembling, almost imperceptibly. She wasn't just scared for him; she was scared for herself, too.
And yet, that didn't change the fact that she had lied to him. That didn't change the fact that, despite her fears, she had kept him in the dark, all the while knowing what Si-wan was planning.
"I trusted you," Ji-hoon said, his voice a low growl. "I trusted you, Seol-ah. And you betrayed me. Just like the rest of them."
She shook her head violently, her tears falling freely now. "I never wanted to betray you, Ji-hoon. I never wanted to hurt you. But you don't understand—Si-wan is different. He's not just some angry person. He's been planning this for so long. And he's going to hurt you. He's going to hurt everyone you care about. If you go after him like this—"
"I'm going after him," Ji-hoon interrupted, his voice cold. "You should've told me the truth when you had the chance. Now, it's too late."
With that, he turned away from her, walking down the corridor. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. There was no turning back now. He had come too far, seen too much. Si-wan had to be stopped. And Ji-hoon would be the one to do it.
No matter the cost.