The city was like a pressure cooker, the streets buzzing with a nervous energy that pulsed under Daon's skin. Shadows crept around corners, long and ominous, as if they were stalking him.

He couldn't stop thinking about Aera. Her words, sharp as a dagger, had been burned into his mind.

"You wanted to destroy me before. Why are you suddenly so concerned now?"

She was right. He had been part of her downfall, yet here he was, desperately trying to redeem himself. But was it too late for redemption? Was it ever enough for someone like her?

Bitna shot upright in her bed, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as a blinding light filled the room. It wasn't the kind of light that comforted; it burned, demanding attention. A figure stood before her, glowing like a vision from another world.

"Mija?" she asked, her voice shaky, but the form that hovered before her wasn't her friend.

"I'm not Mija," the angel's voice was icy, unyielding.

"I am Gabriel, a messenger of fate."

Bitna's throat went dry. Her mind reeled. "Gabriel? What do you want?"

Gabriel stepped closer, her wings unfurling with a soft, haunting sound, and the air around them thickened with foreboding.

"Daon's soul is teetering on the edge. If he succumbs to vengeance, if his rage consumes him—he's lost. Heaven will turn its back on him. And you will be the one to decide if he is to be saved, Bitna. You must act."

Before Bitna could form a response, the angel disappeared in a flash, leaving behind only a chilling silence and the weight of her words.

The next morning, chaos erupted. News of Serial Killer J resurfaced, each headline dripping with horror.

The Violent Crimes Unit scrambled to piece together evidence, but the entire team felt the looming weight of dread. They had lost Soyeong. Now, the killer was back, stronger and more elusive than ever.

Myungsook, sitting in her apartment, clenched her fists as she watched the report on TV.

A shadow crossed her face as the blurry image of the killer flashed on screen. She didn't know if it was fear, recognition, or something worse that crept through her veins.

Seonho's reckless driving ended in a crash. His car spun off the road, slamming into a lamppost. Bitna arrived before the ambulance, pulled there by an instinct she didn't understand. Her eyes locked onto Seonho's face, pale and bloodied.

As her reflection flickered in the mirror, memories of violence, betrayal, and Soyeong's murder flashed through her mind. The pieces were falling together—too many dark secrets too close to the surface.

Daon stood in front of Aera's door, his hand hovering over the handle. He wasn't sure what he hoped to achieve, but the need to speak to her was overpowering. His heart thudded in his chest as he gathered the courage to knock.

Before he could, the door swung open, and Justitia stepped into view. Her expression was unreadable, the faintest trace of surprise crossing her features.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice even but carrying an edge that was impossible to ignore.

"I—" Daon faltered.

"I need to see Aera. It's important."

Justitia studied him closely, her gaze intense and calculating.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea. You don't know what's going on with her."

"I know," Daon replied quietly, his words heavy with guilt.

"But I still need to see her. I need to talk to her." Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she stepped aside, allowing him to pass. Still, her presence lingered, watching him closely.

Aera appeared a moment later, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and wariness. She didn't say anything immediately, but when she finally met his gaze, Daon saw the familiar coldness in her eyes.

"Daon," Aera said, her voice flat, giving nothing away.

"Can we talk?" Daon asked, his voice strained.

Justitia remained at the edge of the room, her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't seem to be in a rush to leave, though she didn't intrude either.

Aera gave her sister a quick glance. Justitia's gaze was soft but firm, silently telling her she was there in case things went south.

"I'm not here to argue, Aera," Daon continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I just... I need you to understand that I never wanted to hurt you. I—"

"Enough," Aera cut him off, her eyes hardening.

"I don't need you to explain yourself. You did what you did, and no amount of words will change it."

Justitia shifted slightly, her eyes flicking between the two of them, sensing the tension but not fully aware of the history.

Daon's throat tightened. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I just..." He trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"I want to make it right. If that's even possible."

Aera's sister remained silent, but her gaze was sharp, watching Daon's every move. She clearly didn't trust him, but she wasn't openly hostile either. Justitia simply observed, as if waiting for Daon to reveal something she wasn't sure of.

"You think it's that easy?" Aera asked, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"You think you can just show up and fix everything?"

Justitia took a step forward then, her tone neutral but firm. "Aera, you don't have to do this alone. But Daon..." She glanced at him, her gaze unreadable.

"You can't expect her to just forgive you without understanding why you did what you did."

Daon looked at Justitia, feeling the weight of her words.

"I don't expect forgiveness," he replied.

"I just need to make sure she's okay. I'm sorry for what happened."

Aera stood silently, staring at the floor. Justitia glanced between the two of them, then quietly turned and walked towards the door.

"You two need to figure this out," she said simply before stepping out of the room, leaving Daon and Aera alone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Daon wanted to reach out, to say something—anything—but he didn't know how. He could feel Aera's walls up, higher than before.

Finally, Aera's voice broke the silence, though it was barely a whisper.

"I don't need you to fix me."

Daon swallowed hard, his throat tight.

"I'm not trying to. I'm trying to fix what I broke."

Aera looked up at him then, her gaze softening just the slightest bit before she stepped back, as if putting more distance between them.

At the police station, Daon stared at the CCTV footage. It was damning. If it got out, it could destroy Bitna. His fingers hovered over the keys, uncertainty clawing at his gut. But without hesitation, he pressed the delete button.

"What the hell are you doing, Daon?" Munjae's voice cut through the air like a whip, his presence suddenly looming over him.

"You just erased evidence. You think there won't be consequences?" Daon stiffened but refused to back down.

"What do you want, Munjae?" Munjae's lips twisted into a predatory grin.

"Simple. You work for me now. You'll do exactly what I say, or I'll make sure everyone sees what you did. Including Bitna."

Aera lay in her bed, pale and feverish. Her breath came in shallow gasps. The exhaustion was wearing her down, but she wouldn't show it. She refused to be weak.

Sable, standing at her side, eyed her with quiet concern.

"You need rest. You're burning yourself out." Aera shot him a glare that could freeze fire.

"I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," Sable replied, his tone soft but insistent.

"It's concern. You're going too far. You're—"

"Stop. I'm fine," Aera snapped, her voice cutting through the air like glass.

"You sound just like Daon."

Sable paused, taken aback. "You're still holding onto that?"

Aera turned her head, not wanting to meet his gaze. The truth was—she had felt something for Daon once. But now, it was nothing but a cold, painful memory. Every time he reached out, she built another wall between them. He had betrayed her before. And she wasn't going to let that happen again.

At the convenience store, Munjae met with Arong, their conversation laced with something dark and dangerous.

"Daon doesn't deserve an easy death," Munjae said, a cruel smirk playing at his lips.

"I want him to suffer before I end him."

Arong's eyes glinted with amusement, but there was a deadly edge to his voice.

"Careful, Munjae. Your obsession could be the thing that destroys you first."

Their laughter rang out in the small, dimly lit store, a sound that sent chills down anyone's spine who heard it.