𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗. kiss me goodbye

BEN SPARROW FLICKED UP HIS lighter, its flame casting an eerie dance of shadows across his office. The room was cloaked in a dim, almost sinister light, with dark mahogany furniture adding to the heavy, oppressive atmosphere.

The walls, lined with bookshelves filled with aged books and curious trinkets, seemed to absorb the scant light, leaving the corners shrouded in darkness. The air was thick with the scent of leather and smoke, a testament to the countless hours Ben had spent in this space, contemplating and brooding.

As the flame flickered, Ben's thoughts drifted back to the origin of the lighter.

Ben's kicks landed with precision, each strike a reminder of Jihyun's lack of skill. Jihyun stumbled, barely managing to parry the blows, his face a mix of concentration and mild amusement. "Alright, alright," Jihyun panted, raising a hand. "Let's take a breather."

Ben nodded, his own breath steady, and they sank onto the grime-covered floor of the old, rundown building. Dust swirled around them, settling in their hair and clothes. Jihyun, still catching his breath, fumbled in his bag and pulled out a small brown box. He handed it to Ben, who eyed it suspiciously.

"What is this?" Ben asked, tilting his head as he took the box.

Jihyun huffed, peeling the bandages off his hands. "A gift for you."

Ben's brow furrowed in curiosity as he opened the box. Inside, nestled in black felt, was a silver lighter. It had the boxy, vintage look of an old relic but was clearly modernized, and expensive. Ben's eyes widened slightly. "A gift for me?" he mocked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Isn't it great?" Jihyun grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

They both chuckled, and Ben ran his finger over the intricate emblem etched on the front: two scorpions, their tails intertwined, circling a single, scorpion's eye. It was a striking design, both beautiful and menacing.

"Try it," Jihyun urged, producing two cigarettes from his pocket.

Ben laughed, placing a cigarette between his lips. "You want me to die quickly?" he joked, but the lighter intrigued him. He flicked it open, the lid making a satisfying clink. The flame sprung to life, small yet powerful.

"You punk," Jihyun said, lighting his own cigarette with a smirk. "Don't use disposable lighters. You're the big boss. You have to look the part."

Ben nodded thoughtfully, lifting the lighter up and down, the lid making that same satisfying clink each time. "It doesn't make a sound," he mused, teasingly.

"Yes, it does," Jihyun retorted, watching him. "What sound did you expect?"

Ben continued to flick the lighter open and shut, the rhythmic clink blending with the distant sounds of the city. They both lit their cigarettes, the smoke curling around them, filling the air with its pungent aroma.

As they sat there, the silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding of a shared moment. The silver flame flickered in the dim light, casting long shadows that danced across the grime and dirt.

It was a gift, a token of a strange and memorable night. Ben could still picture it vividly: the moon hanging high and full in the sky, casting a silver glow over the deserted building where he and Kang Jihyun had decided to spar.

Jihyun was terrible at it, his movements awkward and uncoordinated, a fact that both amused and puzzled Ben. They weren't truly fighting; it was more of a game, a way to pass the time and, for Ben, to hone his skills.

Jihyun's lack of interest in learning to fight was odd, almost intriguing. He seemed content to be Ben's punching bag, taking the hits with a stoic expression as if the pain was a necessary part of their bond. Ben could never quite understand why Jihyun allowed it, but there was a silent agreement between them, a mutual understanding that this was their way of connecting.

Then, Ben began thinking of another memory.

Ben stood over the crumpled body, his knuckles raw and throbbing, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The man on the ground had disrespected him, and Ben had made sure he paid the price. His goons, silent and efficient, moved in to dispose of the man, dragging the limp form away without a word.

Breathing heavily, Ben pulled out his lighter, flicking it open with a roughness that mirrored his tumultuous emotions. The flame sputtered to life, casting a flickering glow that barely penetrated the dimness of the alley. As he stared at the small, wavering flame, he tried to steady his thoughts, to channel his rage into something more productive.

But then, something unexpected happened. A tiny metal component from the top of the lighter's lid fell out, clinking softly as it hit the ground. Ben's sharp eyes caught the movement, and he bent down, retrieving the small piece.

It was a chip, faintly glowing green, pulsing in and out with an eerie light.

His mind raced, the implications crashing over him like a tidal wave. He had been chipped. The realization struck hard, igniting a fresh wave of fury. Who had done this? How had they managed to infiltrate something so personal, so integral to his daily life?

And why was it in the lighter that Kang Jihyun had gifted him?

Ben's grip tightened around the lighter, his knuckles whitening with the force. The tiny green chip seemed to mock him, its steady pulse a reminder of his vulnerability, of the unseen enemies lurking in the shadows. His mind swirled with possibilities, each more infuriating than the last. Someone had dared to track him, to monitor his every move. The audacity of it was infuriating.

He flicked the lighter open and shut, the familiar clink now carrying a new, sinister weight. His thoughts drifted back to other moments, other memories, trying to piece together when and how this intrusion could have occurred. Every interaction, every careless moment of inattention now felt suspect.

Ben's anger simmered, a dangerous, bubbling cauldron beneath his calm exterior. The lighter, once a symbol of control and power, now felt tainted, its presence a constant reminder of the betrayal he had yet to understand fully.

He pocketed the chip, his mind already calculating his next moves. There would be no rest until he uncovered the truth until he found those responsible and made them pay.

The green glow of the chip haunted his vision, a spectral reminder of the threat he now faced. But beneath the anger, beneath the simmering rage, there was a cold, steely resolve. Ben Sparrow would not be taken down so easily.

Ben barged into Jihyun's office, the door slamming against the wall with a resounding crash. The room was empty, an eerie silence hanging in the air. His fury, still fresh and uncontainable, found an outlet in the destruction that followed. He swept everything off the desk, papers and trinkets scattering like fallen leaves. Shelves of books toppled with a deafening clatter, their spines snapping, pages fluttering to the ground.

With an almost animalistic rage, Ben tore down the paintings from the walls, ripping through the canvas with his bare hands. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign, any clue that might reveal Jihyun's betrayal.

Grabbing a blade from the desk, he slashed open the couch seats, the stuffing spilling out like entrails, but found nothing. The destruction continued, a symphony of chaos and anger, but it brought no satisfaction, no answers.

Then, in a rare moment of clarity, Ben paused, his breath heavy and ragged. He scanned the room, his keen eyes catching a subtle detail: a roof tile near the smoke detector that was slightly ajar.

His heart pounded with a renewed intensity as he reached up, his fingers just tall enough to pry open the tile. He felt around, his hand brushing against something solid. With a grunt, he pulled it down, a heavy box that he set carefully on the ground.

Opening it, he found an old, worn-down typewriter. It seemed out of place, an anachronistic relic in this modern chaos. But it was what lay beneath that caught his attention: a crumpled, torn piece of paper. His hands, trembling with a mix of anticipation and dread, carefully extracted the fragile document, ensuring he didn't damage it further.

As he smoothed it out, his eyes widened in disbelief. It was a list of people in his organization, names, and roles meticulously detailed. But worse still, the paper contained descriptions of their shady dealings, a comprehensive record of their illicit operations. The words swam before his eyes, a damning testament to the betrayal he had feared.

Every name, every detail was a nail in the coffin of his trust. Ben's mind raced, piecing together the implications of this discovery. Someone had been documenting their every move, compiling evidence that could bring their entire operation crashing down.

And Jihyun, his supposed friend and confidant, was at the heart of it all.

His anger, momentarily tempered by shock, reignited with a vengeance. The typewriter, the list, everything in this box was proof of Jihyun's treachery. Ben's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a cold, deadly resolve.

This wasn't just a betrayal; it was a declaration of war. And Ben Sparrow was ready to fight back, to root out the traitor and ensure that no one ever dared to cross him again.

Ben looked up from the typewriter, his vision blurring slightly as the room seemed to shift around him. In the hazy light, he could almost see Jihyun sitting there, perched on the edge of the desk with his usual nonchalance. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling. A cup of coffee sat next to him, steaming gently, while his fingers danced over the keys of the typewriter, the clanking noises filling the air with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic cadence.

The ghostly image of Jihyun was so vivid, so tangible, that for a moment, Ben could almost believe he was real. He could see the familiar smirk playing at the corners of Jihyun's mouth, the casual way he held himself as if the world and all its troubles were merely an amusing game. But now, Ben knew the truth. Jihyun had been conspiring against him all along, weaving a web of deceit and betrayal right under his nose.

The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, a sharp knife twisting in his gut. Every shared laugh, every moment of camaraderie now felt tainted, corrupted by the knowledge of Jihyun's treachery. Ben's hands tightened into fists, the paper crumpling slightly under his grip. The spirit of Jihyun seemed to linger, mocking him with its mere presence.

"You thought you could outsmart me," Ben muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl. "You thought you could betray me and get away with it."

The vision of Jihyun continued to type, the clanking of the keys echoing in Ben's mind like a taunt. He could almost hear Jihyun's voice, cool and detached, spinning his web of lies with the same ease as he had once spun tales of their exploits.

But this wasn't a story. This was real, and Ben knew what he had to do.

He had to take Jihyun down, to dismantle the threat from within and ensure that no one ever dared to betray him again.

Ben stood his resolve hardening with every passing second. The ghostly image of Jihyun faded, leaving only the cold, stark reality of the room and the weight of the task ahead.

There would be no mercy, no hesitation.

Jihyun had made his move, and now it was Ben's turn.

With a final, determined glance at the typewriter, Ben turned on his heel, striding out of the office with a new purpose. The game had changed, and he was ready to play.

Jihyun would soon learn the true cost of betrayal.

Ben exited Jihyun's office, the echoes of his destruction fading into the oppressive silence of the hallway. Outside, standing like a sentinel, was Yujin Choi.

Yujin stared at his feet, shifting uncomfortably. Ben said nothing, only grunting in acknowledgment. The sound made Yujin glance up, his eyes searching Ben's face for any hint of what had transpired inside.

Without a word, Ben handed him the torn piece of paper from the typewriter. Yujin's brows furrowed as he scanned the names and details, the implications of the document sinking in.

Jihyun, the man who had welcomed him the most, who had given him advice and taken him under his wing, had betrayed the organization. Yujin's hands trembled, his face a mask of seething anger.

Ben watched him, his rage now a cold, steely resolve. He didn't need to explain; Yujin knew what needed to be done. He looked up at Ben, his eyes hardening with determination.

"You know what to do," Ben said, his voice low and steady.

Yujin nodded, the paper crumpling slightly in his grip. With a final glance at Ben, he turned on his heel and left, his mind already focused on the task ahead. He moved with a purpose, his steps quick and deliberate as he headed towards the exit.

The air outside was thick and humid, a summer night that seemed to press down on everything. Yujin barely noticed, his mind racing with the betrayal he had just uncovered. He reached into his jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of the gun there. Along with it, an address: Jieun Kang's home.

❨ present ❩

JIEUN WAS ENVELOPED BY AN atmosphere that was eerily familiar yet disquietingly foreign. The air outside was still, holding an almost oppressive silence. The usual nocturnal chorus of crickets was muted, their faint song barely audible, as if the world itself were holding its breath.

Her room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long, languid shadows across the walls. The gentle rustling of the curtains, stirred by a barely perceptible breeze, added a subtle movement to the stillness, enhancing the sense of quiet unease. The faint scent of jasmine, wafting in from the garden outside her window, lingered in the air, a fragrant reminder of life beyond the oppressive quiet.

Jieun's eyes wandered over the familiar objects in her room: the well-worn books on her shelf, each with its own history, and the photographs pinned to the wall, each capturing a fragment of time.

Tonight, however, these comforts seemed distant, overshadowed by an inexplicable tension that gnawed at her insides.

The clock ticked softly, each second stretching into an eternity. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, that this silence was merely the prelude to a storm. Shifting in her chair, the wood creaked loudly, the sound jarring in the otherwise still room. She glanced at the clock again, its hands moving too slowly as if time itself were reluctant to advance.

Outside, the world lay in a hush, the usual urban symphony dulled to a whisper. The streets were empty, pools of light from the lampposts casting eerie shadows on the deserted sidewalks. Even the wind seemed hesitant, its whisper barely stirring the leaves on the trees.

Jieun took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The silence felt oppressive, pressing in on her from all sides, amplifying her every thought and fear. She stood and moved to the window, peering out into the night. The garden was cloaked in shadow, the delicate blooms of jasmine glowing faintly in the darkness.

As she stood there, the uneasy quiet seemed to deepen, wrapping around her like a shroud. She couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, as if unseen eyes tracked her every move. Shivering, she pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders and stepped back from the window.

The room, her sanctuary, now felt like a cage. She glanced around, her eyes landing on the door. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to break the spell of stillness, to seek out the source of her unease. But she remained frozen, caught between the comfort of the familiar and the terror of the unknown.

Jieun closed her eyes and took another deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She knew she needed to move, to do something to break the hold of the silence. Gathering her courage, she reached for the door, her hand trembling slightly as she turned the knob. The door creaked open, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Stepping into her closet, she felt a chill run down her spine, but she forced herself to continue, determined to uncover the source of her unease.

Jieun's heart skipped a beat as she heard rustling outside her window. The sound was unnervingly familiar, sending a jolt of déjà vu through her. It took her back to the night when Robby, on the run and desperate, had appeared at her front door. The memory of his whispered pleas echoed in her mind. She never thought she'd wish for a repeat of that night, but now, she found herself longing for Robby's presence, his energy a comfort compared to the eerie silence that enveloped her now.

She never thought she'd think this, but she wished her grandmother was there, too, even though the old woman's presence wouldn't have helped much. Her grandmother, with her stern demeanor and sharp tongue, had somehow managed to make friends with the other elderly women in the neighborhood. The Golden Girls, as Jieun called them, held bingo nights every Wednesday.

Even now, Jieun could imagine them gathered around a table, gossiping and cackling over their bingo cards. It was a sharp contrast to the oppressive quiet of her room, a reminder of normalcy that felt worlds away.

More sounds from outside echoed through the still night, a series of soft thuds and scrapes that sent her pulse racing. Panic tightened its grip on her, and without thinking, she closed the closet door just enough to leave a narrow gap through which she could watch the window.

Inside the cramped space, her breath came in shallow gasps, the darkness pressing in on her. Her eyes were fixed on the window, every nerve in her body tense and alert. The rustling grew louder, more distinct, as if whoever or whatever was out there was getting closer. The thin fabric of her closet door did little to muffle the sounds, each one sending a fresh wave of fear through her.

The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity. She strained to listen, to make sense of the noises outside. Was it the wind? An animal? Or something more sinister? Her imagination conjured up all manner of possibilities, each more frightening than the last.

Suddenly, a shadow moved across the window, and Jieun's breath caught in her throat. She watched, wide-eyed, as the figure outside paused, seemingly searching for something. She couldn't make out any details, the darkness obscuring everything but the vague outline of a person.

Jieun's mind flashed back to Robby, to the desperate, haunted look in his eyes as he had stood outside her front door, seeking refuge. She hoped, prayed, that this was another false alarm, that whoever was out there meant her no harm. But the fear, the uncertainty, gnawed at her, making it impossible to feel anything but dread.

In the silence of the closet, Jieun waited, each passing second amplifying her terror. She knew she had to stay hidden, to stay silent until the danger passed. But how long could she hold out? How long before whatever was outside found its way in?

The night stretched on, the rustling outside continuing its relentless assault on her senses. Jieun remained in the closet, eyes fixed on the window, heart pounding in her chest, waiting for the dawn to bring with it a sense of safety — or the courage to face whatever was lurking in the darkness.

A gloved hand suddenly reached up to the window, fingers deftly working to pry it open. Jieun watched quietly from her hiding place, her breath steady and calm. It was an odd, almost surreal calm, a kind of detachment that seemed to settle over her as she observed the figure outside. The darkness obscured their features, but the intent was clear — they were trying to break in.

The window creaked open, the latch giving way under the persistent pressure. The figure slipped inside, moving with practiced ease, their other hand clutching an envelope. Jieun's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight. With a slow, deliberate movement, she exited the closet, her steps silent on the wooden floor.

Jieun lunged forward, grabbing the arm that held the envelope and twisting it with all her strength. The figure didn't yell but fought back, their movements quick and controlled. The struggle intensified, Jieun dragging the figure into the room, their bodies colliding with the furniture, the window shattering in the process.

They fought fiercely, the figure's all-black outfit a chilling reminder of the night her father was murdered.

The same dark clothing, the same silent efficiency.

Memories flooded Jieun's mind, fueling her determination. A part of her fought this figure with a ferocity she wished she had possessed on that fateful night, the night she lost her father.

The intruder moved with the precision of a trained fighter, but Jieun matched them blow for blow, her movements driven by a mixture of fear, rage, and a deep-seated need for justice. The room became a battlefield, the sound of their struggle mingling with the echoes of past trauma. Each punch, each kick, was a cathartic release of the pain and helplessness she had carried for so long.

Jieun's eyes burned with a fierce resolve as she grappled with the figure, using every ounce of her strength to gain the upper hand. She could see the face of her father's killer superimposed over the intruder's shadowy form, the memory of that night pushing her to fight harder, to not give in to the fear.

The figure finally managed to pin her down, its weight pressing her against the floor. Jieun's hand scrambled blindly, fingers curling around the neck of an empty Coke bottle. With a desperate, defiant cry, she swung it upwards, smashing it against the intruder's head. The bottle shattered, and she grasped the jagged remnants, driving the shards into their arm. The figure grunted in pain, their grip loosening just enough for Jieun to twist free.

She attacked with renewed ferocity, each blow driven by a mixture of fear, anger, and the haunting memories of her father's death. The figure's breath came in heavy, labored gasps, the pain evident in their movements.

"Are you here to finish the job?" Jieun spat out, her voice trembling but resolute. The figure remained silent, their only response a pained grunt. The seconds dragged on, the silence between them thick and oppressive. Jieun's hand tightened around the broken bottle, the shards glinting menacingly in the dim light.

She moved closer, her breath shaky, and brought the jagged edge to the figure's neck. Her heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Then, suddenly, the figure spoke, their voice soft and broken.

"Jieun," the voice said, filled with an unmistakable familiarity.

Jieun's breath caught in her throat. She knew that voice. It resonated with memories of trust and betrayal, of friendship and pain.

She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

Her hand trembled as she reached out, undoing the mask that concealed the intruder's face.

The mask fell away, revealing the face beneath. Crouching there, broken and vulnerable, was Yujin Choi. His eyes, filled with pain and regret, met hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"Yujin," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The shock of recognition coursed through her, mingling with a flood of emotions too complex to name. She stared at him, her mind racing to make sense of the betrayal, the violence, and the raw, aching familiarity of his presence.

At that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the shattered remnants of their struggle strewn around them like the fragments of their shattered trust. Jieun's grip on the broken bottle loosened, the jagged edges slipping from her fingers. The battle was over, but the war within her heart had just begun.

Yujin lay breathless on the floor, blood pooling around him. Jieun remained frozen, her mind reeling from the shock, the sense of betrayal cutting deeper than any physical wound. Why had Yujin, her friend, tried to break into her home? She watched him struggle to breathe, his chest heaving, his eyes now filled with tears.

"I couldn't leave without doing one more thing," he breathed out, his voice ragged and broken. "Your father was an agent."

Jieun's eyes burned with anger, the betrayal searing through her. She pushed him again, eliciting a groan of pain. "I already knew this," she spat, her voice shaking. Her father's secrets, the lies that had shrouded her life, felt like a noose tightening around her throat.

Yujin winced, tears streaming down his face, his lips cracked and dry. "How did you... end up working with Ben?" he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

Jieun's brows furrowed in confusion and rage. "I've been trying to warn you this whole time!" He began to yell, the sharp edges of the broken bottle still pressed against his neck, breaking the skin and drawing fresh blood. His voice cracked, desperation and fear mingling in his eyes. "Ben is dangerous. I was trying to protect you."

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, the truth unraveling in her mind. Yujin's breakdown, his muttered apologies, the blood staining his clothes — it all collided with her emotions, too intense to process all at once. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision.

Yujin's repeated 'sorry' echoed in the room, mingling with her own sobs. She watched him, her heart torn between anger and grief, the years of friendship crashing down around them. With a sudden clarity, she tore the bottle away from his neck, the jagged edges slipping from her grasp. She fell back, her own tears flowing freely, the weight of the moment crushing her.

She collapsed onto the floor beside him, both of them broken and battered, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. The truth lay between them, raw and bleeding, a wound too deep to heal easily.

Yujin, with the last of his strength, reached into his pocket. Blood now encased his trembling hand as he pulled out a small object and handed it to Jieun. She didn't look at it, her eyes fixed on the destruction in her room, then on Yujin. Her mind raced with anger and confusion, but she couldn't bear to see another lifeless body on her floor.

Yujin's trembling hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope, now drenched in his blood. He handed it to Jieun, his eyes pleading for her to understand. As she took it, the reality of the situation crashed down on her. The letter felt heavy in her hands, the blood soaking into the paper, smearing the words written in her father's familiar handwriting.

Jieun's breath quickened, her chest tightening as she looked at Yujin, lying there, bleeding and broken. The sight of the blood pouring out of him, staining the floor, sent her into a spiral of panic. Her vision blurred, the edges of the room closing in as she began to hyperventilate.

"No, no, no," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible. "Yuyu, please. Stay with me."

She pressed her hands against his wounds, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it seemed futile. Her fingers were slick with his blood, her mind racing with guilt and fear. The letter encased in her jacket pocket, forgotten, as she focused entirely on Yujin.

"Please, don't leave me," she begged, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Yujin's eyes fluttered open, his gaze hazy and unfocused. He tried to speak, but only a weak, gurgling sound emerged. Tears streamed down Jieun's face, mingling with the blood on her hands. The room felt suffocating, the weight of her actions pressing down on her.

Yujin's breathing grew shallower, his strength waning. Jieun's heart pounded in her chest, the terror of losing him consuming her. She pressed harder against his wounds, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Jieun's body trembled uncontrollably, her mind a chaotic storm of grief and desperation. As she stared at Yujin's lifeless form, the adrenaline surged through her veins, giving her a fleeting surge of strength.

She couldn't let him die. Not like this.

Not like her father.

With shaking hands, she wiped the tears from her face, her vision clearing just enough to see what she had to do. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She leaned over Yujin, slipping her arms under his shoulders and heaving with all her might.

"Come on," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please, just hold on a little longer."

Every muscle in her body screamed in protest as she dragged him across the floor. The blood-soaked fabric of his clothes made it harder to get a grip, but she gritted her teeth, her determination fierce. Her mind was a singular focus: save him. Do what she couldn't do for her father.

The world around her seemed to blur as she moved, the sound of her own labored breathing mingling with the distant chirping of crickets outside. She stumbled through the house, her legs shaking, her arms burning with the effort. The hallway seemed endless, each step a monumental struggle against the weight of her guilt and the physical burden of Yujin's body.

As she reached the door, she paused, gasping for breath. The night air was cool against her tear-streaked face, a stark contrast to the warmth of the blood covering her hands. She glanced down at Yujin, his face pale, his breath barely perceptible.

"Just a little more," she whispered, her voice a mixture of hope and desperation. "We're almost there."

With renewed determination, she dragged him down the steps and towards her car. The gravel crunched under her feet, each step feeling like it took an eternity. Her muscles burned, her body threatening to give out, but she pushed on, driven by the memories of her father and the unbearable thought of losing him.

She reached the car, struggling to open the door with one hand while supporting Yujin with the other. Finally, she managed to get it open, carefully maneuvering his limp body into the back seat. She could hear his faint, labored breaths, each one a fragile thread of hope.

Jieun collapsed into the driver's seat, her hands trembling as she started the engine. The car roared to life, and she sped towards the hospital, her mind racing with fear and determination. The roads were eerily empty, the silence only broken by the sound of the tires on the pavement and her own desperate prayers.

The hospital loomed ahead, its harsh fluorescent lights cutting through the darkness. She screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance, flinging open her door and rushing to the back seat. With a strength born of desperation, she pulled Yujin from the car and dragged him towards the entrance, her own body barely able to keep going.

"Help! Someone, please help!" she screamed, her voice raw with anguish.

Medical staff rushed out, taking Yujin from her grasp. She stumbled back, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion, collapsing against the car. Her vision blurred with tears as she watched them carry him inside, the doors swinging shut behind them.

The adrenaline began to fade, leaving her trembling and weak. She sank to the ground, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her mind a whirl of memories and fear. She had done everything she could, but the guilt and sorrow clung to her, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest.

As she sat there, drenched in blood and tears, she could only hope that Yujin would survive. The image of her father's lifeless body flashed through her mind, and she whispered a prayer into the silent night, her heart aching with the pain of loss and the desperate

Before the medics could stop to ask her questions, Jieun bolted from the scene, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. She raced back to her car, the night air biting at her skin. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the keys, and she threw herself into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind her.

She sat there, gasping for breath, her mind a whirl of confusion and fear. The backseat was a grim tableau, covered in Yujin's blood, the metallic scent filling the confined space. Her own hands were stained crimson, trembling in her lap as she tried to steady her racing thoughts.

Jieun reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter Yujin had tried to give her. It was crumpled and smeared with blood, the paper a sickly beige now darkened with rusty red stains. The edges were frayed, and the blood had soaked through, making some parts of the text almost unreadable. She held it delicately as if it might disintegrate in her hands.

With a deep breath, she unfolded the letter, the paper crackling softly. The words were smudged, but she could still make out the handwriting, hurried and slanted. The blood had seeped into the fibers of the paper, forming grotesque patterns that marred the once-clear message.

As she read, her vision blurred with tears, each word a dagger to her heart. Yujin had tried to warn her, to protect her, and she had nearly killed him in her panic and confusion. The guilt was overwhelming, a tidal wave that threatened to drown her.

Jieun's hands shook as she held the letter, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The world outside the car was still and silent, the quiet night a stark contrast to the turmoil within. She closed her eyes, trying to calm the storm inside her, but the images of Yujin's bloodied face and the fight that had erupted in her room played over and over in her mind.

She couldn't stay here. She needed to move, to do something. But for now, she was paralyzed by the weight of her own actions, the blood on her hands a constant reminder of the night's horror.

She took a deep breath, mustering every ounce of courage she had left, and began to read. The tears came harder as she saw the words on the front in Korean: "TO MY BELOVED DAUGHTER, JIEUN." Her fingers rustled the paper, trying to smooth out the creases, as she opened it.

The words seemed to blur and swim on the page, but she could almost hear her father's voice, warm and comforting, as she read:

"Jieun, my daughter who grew up too quickly. There were so many things I wanted to do with you. Whenever there's hardship, I want to talk, beg, and tell you to trust me. If you fall in love, I want to worry about what he's like. I want to watch you get married and have children."

She paused, looking up through tear-filled eyes, her vision of her father sitting at his desk, cigarette in hand, so vivid and heartbreaking. She could see him hunched over, writing this letter with care, his face lined with worry and love. She smiled sadly, the bittersweet memory tearing at her heart, then continued reading.

"I want to share all of those days with you, but there's a chance... that those days may never come."

The paper fell from her hands momentarily, her sobs growing louder, her body shaking with grief. The loss felt raw and fresh as if the wound had just been reopened. She took a deep breath, picking the letter back up, needing to read the final words, even though they cut her to the core.

"I was an inadequate dad, but I was happy because of you, Jieun. You have to be happy and live a good life even if I'm not around, okay? I'm sorry I can't be with you. I love you."

The car was filled with her cries, the sound echoing off the walls of her small, confined world. Outside, the night remained eerily quiet, the world unaware of the storm raging inside her.

Jieun's emotions surged, raw and overwhelming, as she banged her hands against the steering wheel. The sharp, hollow sound echoed in the small space of the car, a desperate, futile attempt to release the torrent of grief, anger, and despair inside her. Her sobs turned into screams, each cry filled with the pain of loss and betrayal.

"Why?" she shouted, her voice cracking. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

She hit the steering wheel again, harder, the pain in her hands a welcome distraction from the agony in her heart. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision, each drop a testament to the chaos and sorrow that had invaded her life once more.

Her fists clenched, and she struck herself, the physical pain a fleeting solace against the storm of emotions. She felt as if she were drowning, each wave pulling her deeper into the darkness. The memory of her father, Yujin — everything hit her at once, a relentless barrage of grief and rage.

"Why does everything fall apart?" she cried, her voice breaking.

She felt as though she had been transported back to the days after her father's death, back to the relentless, numbing grief, back to the broken, beaten version of herself she had worked so hard to heal.

Jieun's breath came in ragged gasps, each inhaled a struggle, and each exhaled a sob. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, her body trembling with the force of her emotions.

Jieun closed her eyes, trying to find some calm amid the chaos. But the memories and emotions were too strong, too raw. She felt like a child again, lost and alone in a world that seemed intent on breaking her.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jieun lifted her head, her eyes filled with a renewed sense of purpose. She started the car, the engine's roar a comforting reminder of her own power.

Jieun's breathing was ragged, her chest tight with the force of her sobs. The road blurred before her, and she tried to focus on the scenery, the trees and streetlights flashing by, in a desperate attempt to calm her racing heart. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as she forced herself to breathe, in and out, in and out.

Eventually, she pulled up to a familiar apartment complex, the sight of it both a comfort and a reminder of everything that had been taken from her. She turned off the engine, the silence that followed almost deafening. Her legs felt weak as she stepped out of the car, and she stumbled, tripping over her own feet. She cried out, more from the emotional pain than the physical, and sank to the ground, her back against the rough brick wall.

She hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face. Her body trembled, and she hit her side in frustration, the pain a sharp reminder of her own vulnerability. She didn't know how long she sat there, crying, feeling every ounce of her strength drain away.

But eventually, she found the will to stand. Her movements were slow, each step a struggle, but she made her way to the apartment door. She banged on it, her fists weak, her body screaming for rest. It was late, and she didn't expect anyone to answer, but she had nowhere else to go.

To her surprise, the door swung open, revealing Johnny Lawrence, a baseball bat in hand, his expression a mix of alarm and determination. Behind him, Carmen Diaz was on the phone, likely ready to call the police. Robby Keene and Miguel Diaz stood with their fists up, ready to defend their home, and Rosa Diaz, in her nightgown, hid behind the two teenage boys.

At the sight of Jieun, their guards dropped instantly. Recognition and concern replaced the fear in their eyes. Robby was the first to move, rushing towards her with open arms. Jieun collapsed into his embrace, her body giving out as she cried on his shoulder. She felt his arms tighten around her, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold despair that had gripped her heart.

She sobbed uncontrollably, the weight of the night's events finally crashing down on her. Robby held her up, his voice a soothing murmur in her ear, but the words were lost in the flood of her own emotions. She had no strength left to stand, to fight, to do anything but cry.

Johnny set the bat aside and moved closer, his hand gently resting on her back. Carmen hung up the phone, her face a mask of concern as she stepped forward. Miguel and Rosa stayed back, giving her space, their eyes wide with worry.

"Jiji, what happened?" Robby asked, his voice gentle, his hand stroking her hair.

She couldn't find the words to explain, her throat choked with sobs. She clung to Robby, her body shaking with the force of her grief. The image of the blood-stained letter flashed in her mind, the weight of her father's words pressing down on her.

Jieun shook her head weakly, and she felt Carmen's hand on her shoulder, a gentle squeeze that conveyed understanding and support. Johnny stood nearby, his presence a silent promise of protection.

For a moment, Jieun allowed herself to be held, to be comforted. She knew there were battles ahead, truths to uncover, and wounds to heal. But for now, she was surrounded by people who cared, and that was enough.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

filler ch !!!

that's not really filler bc its important to jiji's plot line but i hope u guys liked it. i luvvv writing my oc's in pain. sorry !!!!!

she was happy for like what 3 chapters? that's too many !!!! jkjk

remember when i said i wouldn't kill yujin off, yeah well last minute decision LOL. but he's not actually dead i guess

!! IMPORTANT !! PLS ANSWER !! do we or do we not want jiji to follow tory at the sekai taikai???

hear me out okay, jieun is very clearly loyal to anyone who has given her respect and loyalty themselves. as far as she's concerned, when she was hurting tory and miguel were the only people helping her. so that's where the problem comes in, help tory the way she helped her, follow her and encourage her to fight because it helped jiji, or stay with miguel and her new friends (+ bf) bc i am planning to have her more interactive with johnny, carmen and them so i cant imagine her leaving them and sort of betraying them?? but also how fun would that be to write u know???

IDK PLEASE PLEASE ANSWRR !! even if ur a silent reader like i really need feedback on this I'm so stumped.

much love,