Novel Translation

Chapter 12

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Someone came to visit you.

When Hee-joo showed the text on her phone screen to the nurse, the nurse beamed brightly.

"Hee-joo, long time no see."

Hee-joo returned the smile as she walked through the still-unfamiliar hallways. Through the glass walls, the lush green garden was fully visible. This was a top-tier nursing home.

Stopping at a familiar door, she adjusted her clothes before stepping inside.

She saw an elderly man sitting on the balcony. His expression was vacant, his eyes staring blankly at a spot in the garden.

Hee-joo approached him and carefully pulled up the blanket that had slipped from his lap.

"Dad, I’m here."

She spoke naturally, her voice soft and mysterious.

"How have you been? How’s the food?"

"…"

Despite her gentle tone, her father’s gaze remained unfocused.

The only time Hee-joo would actually speak was when visiting her biological father. But even then, it wasn’t a conversation.

Her father had long been trapped in an inescapable abyss.

"Dad, is it comfortable here?"

"…"

"Can you say something? Dad…"

Her biological father had once been a humorous emcee at a run-down club. He was the kind of man who could make his daughter laugh with a single cherry tomato, and Hee-joo had adored him.

Even though they lived in the club’s basement, being together never felt lonely—until her mother caught Chairman Hong’s attention.

Around that time, her father’s health began to fail. Breathing became difficult, his tongue dried and cracked, and his breath carried a sour stench. Her mother grew disgusted and refused to speak to him.

Hee-joo had watched the slow erasure of her father’s existence.

Her mother became someone else’s mistress, while her father sank into silence.

The man who could once make people laugh with just a microphone faded away like a burst bubble.

Even when her mother left, her father didn’t say a word, his bloodshot eyes the only response.

"Why didn’t you say anything back then? You lived your whole life with your voice—why didn’t you use it to curse her out? Even a single insult would’ve been better."

Hee-joo gently stroked her father’s frail, withered hand.

"But, Dad… this is just how I want to live now."

"…"

"I want to do this. I’m sorry."

The elderly man, his face lined with wrinkles, continued to stare out the window as though waiting for something.

"…It might be time to move to a different nursing home."

A father who had given up on everything.

Even so, his luxurious surroundings in old age were thanks to her mother’s money.

Hee-joo had bargained with her mother, offering to replace her older stepsister, to secure her father’s care.

"If you divorce, the funding stops."

For her father’s sake, Hee-joo had held on for a long time, but her patience had worn thin.

Just then, her father’s vacant gaze shifted slightly, and his lips parted.

"Yeon-hee… Yeon-hee…"

"…!"

Hee-joo’s face twisted instantly.

"Again, always this…!"

She could never escape being caught in the middle.

Her father saw her mother through her, while her mother used her as a shield.

Her injured stepsister tried to reconnect with the world through her.

As a sign language interpreter, Hee-joo had always conveyed other people’s words.

People always looked at others through her.

"Yes, Dad, because this is what I’m best at…"

Hee-joo’s gaze suddenly hardened with determination.

That night, the second phone call came.

---

Beep—beep—

The phone rang at the exact same time as the day before.

The nine-minute timer began its countdown, as always. Hee-joo took a deep breath, her demeanor calm and composed.

"I can’t afford to lose my nerve today."

But that wouldn’t happen again.

Her expression quickly grew serious.

When the monotonous ringing abruptly stopped, her voice leapt out like a runner at the start line.

"Have you decided?"

"…Why are you so punctual?"

"Just my mood. After all, you can’t call me back."

"…"

"You don’t even know my real number."

"…"

"Alright, just take the call."

Is this real? Am I actually teasing my husband…?!

Hee-joo clenched her fists in excitement.

"So, have you decided? Will you restore the situation, or is it 200 million?"

"Before that, I want to know something."

Her opponent’s voice suddenly became loose, dragging out his words.

"Hong Hee-joo."

"…!"

The accurate use of her name sent chills down her spine.

He… he called me by my name?

"How do you know that name? And how do you know she’s my wife?"

"…Huh?"

"I’ve blocked all personal information about Hee-joo."

"…"

"Where did it leak from?"

"…"

"She would never tell you this…"

His slow, self-directed muttering carried an oddly sticky tone.

At the same time, Hee-joo felt a sense of relief, knowing he hadn’t uncovered her true identity.

Her straightened back slumped as she exhaled a suppressed sigh, her heart nearly bursting.

"Are you near me?"

"…!"

"I can block the media, but I can’t stop classmates or acquaintances from talking. Maybe our social circles overlap."

"Wait, it’s just a name. Do you need to overreact this much…?"

Raising her voice in nervousness, Hee-joo’s frustration grew.

The person who was supposed to feel threatened was instead using her name as leverage, and it infuriated her.

The power she thought she had slipped away like soap in water.

"Don’t you get the situation yet? I said I’ll bring you down…! I’ll brand you with filth!"

"I know."

"What?"

"A lunatic crashed my wife’s car."

"Does that even matter?"

Hee-joo frowned at the frustratingly circular conversation.

He didn’t care about her life or death—so why this sudden shift?

"I won’t compromise."

"So, you don’t care about your reputation?"

"Even though I can’t tolerate stains."

So, what do you want…?!

Their conversation spiraled in circles.

She glanced at the timer. As expected, he was stalling for time.

So, that’s it.

Baek Sa-oen was someone who wanted to capture his threatener without causing any collateral damage.

Now, he wasn’t just taking the call—he was tracking her.

For a moment, she almost thought he cared about her.

Letting go of her pretense, Hee-joo’s gaze sharpened with resolve.

This was why a second plan was necessary.

"But I’ve discovered something interesting—you have plenty of skeletons that can be exposed."

Hee-joo briefly pulled the phone away from her ear and sent a photo. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she didn’t regret it.

"So, what do you think, brother? Take a good look."

—…!

"Still not willing to compromise?"

—…What is this?

His voice immediately turned sharp, and Hee-joo couldn’t help but laugh.

"Oh my, you’re her husband, and you can’t recognize this?"

…Explain yourself.

"If this really isn’t your wife, you’re doing a terrible job of hiding it."

—You better hope I’m wrong about this.

His voice dropped an octave, but Hee-joo’s lips curved into a faint smirk.

"This is your wife’s leg."

—…!

This was the second script designed to press him.

"That’s why I’ve been telling you to make your decision quickly."

What was amusing was that the subject of a scandal didn’t always have to be the person directly involved.

In fact, the ones who often dragged public officials down were troublesome family members.

So, Hee-joo decided to take matters into her own hands.

If she'd already exposed her voice, what was a photo compared to that?

The photo was boldly angled, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her crotch was fully visible, as though she weren't wearing anything below. With her legs slightly apart, the inner thighs were prominently exposed.

Most striking, however, was the black garter belt attached to her lingerie.

The salacious life of a public official's wife!

And if she claimed this was paid for using government funds from the Blue House's expense account...

This would push him into a corner. A true blackmailer needed such trump cards.

"I won't say anything more for now."

But how this photo is used, what kind of story I spin..."

"Brother, you'd better imagine it yourself."

Suddenly, he seemed to let out a cold laugh. Yet it wasn't laced with any emotion -merely the rustle of fabric brushing against itself.

"Tomorrow, I'll ask you again. Either quickly deal with Hong Hee-joo, or cough up 200 million. Otherwise, forget about ever being a congressman."

"Aren't I kind? I'm even giving you multiple choices. So, you'd better show some sincerity."

Of the three options the simplest was clearly the first.

"Aren't I kind? I'm even giving you multiple choices. So, you'd better show some sincerity."

Of the three options, the simplest was clearly the first.

Yet Hee-joo couldn't fathom why Baek Sa-oen hadn't resolved such an easy problem already.

"Brother, I won't compromise either."

"And as for proof that this photo is of my wife..."

"What a strange question. How could a husband ask something like that?"

Hee-joo chuckled coldly, cutting through his gritted response.

"Don't you know Hong Hee-joo's thigh has a distinctive mark?

"How could you not know?

"Is it that you don't care, or have you never bothered to look?"

She couldn't hold back her laughter.

Baek Sa-oen fell silent for a long time.

"Ah-this is what real blackmail feels like!"

Never in her life had Hee-joo imagined she could render Baek Sa-oen speechless.

This strange silence was as sweet as honey.

For the first time, she had managed to make the perpetually cold, unfeeling man feel a hint of humiliation.

As her anger began to dissipate, Hee-joo gently touched her flushed cheeks.

Thank you so much!!!

More chapters please 

Chapter 14:

Was what happened yesterday a dream?

Hee-joo stifled a yawn as she busied herself with her hands.

"As stated in the medical report, the patient underwent emergency surgery to suture a ruptured testicle, but the prognosis is very poor."

This was the courthouse.

Hee-joo stiffly signed as she interpreted.

As a freelancer, she was assisting the head of the interpretation center at the court today. They were often dispatched to courts, prosecutors’ offices, police stations, and hospitals. Today, Hee-joo was interpreting for a deaf-mute defendant.

"That bastard fell and injured himself!"

The defendant’s wife, standing at the dock, was breathing heavily in rage. Her clenched fists trembled with fury.

This was a case where a wife had broken her husband’s testicle with a soup spoon.

"Who tortures someone with their paranoia?!"

The wife pounded her chest and glared fiercely at her husband sitting in the plaintiff’s seat.

It was a case combining negligence-related injury and divorce litigation.

"We have submitted medical reports as evidence of years of domestic violence."

"Your Honor, for a significant injury that results in permanent physiological impairment, the intentionality of the act must be considered first…"

"We have also submitted audio recordings of the husband’s verbal abuse and death threats, as well as text messages and photographs of his infidelity with his mistress…"

The arguments on both sides were growing increasingly heated.

Hee-joo translated the lawyers’ words word for word, naturally becoming engrossed in the case.

When the husband’s audio recordings were played in court, the room fell into a heavy silence.

The words were unspeakable.

The wife covered her face with both hands.

Now, all that remained was the judge’s decision.

The wife lowered her head, then suddenly cast a strange look at Hee-joo

Slowly, she began to sign.

"Paranoia can’t be cured."

"…What?"

"There’s always a first symptom of everything. I should have left back then."

The corners of the wife’s mouth lifted slightly.

"Never let your guard down. It only takes a moment for a husband to become your enemy."

"…"

"I’ve lived my whole life as a deaf person, but the hardest people to communicate with aren’t this country, foreigners, or even able-bodied people."

"…"

"It’s my own husband."

"But my husband at home."

"…!"

"They’re an utterly uncommunicative group."

For some reason, Hee-joo avoided her gaze and only mouthed silent words.

"Does your family have someone like that, Interpreter?"

"…Ah, maybe."

"Then don’t end up regretting it like I did."

Finally, the door opened, and the judges returned to the courtroom.

The defendant’s wife, with a cold expression, signed her final words.

"I should have blown up both of them."

"…!"

A chill ran down Hee-joo’s spine.

"—Hee-joo, dear, Hee-joo?"

The center head shook her shoulder, snapping her out of her daze and silencing the ringing in her ears.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"What?" Hee-joo asked blankly.

"How did you find interpreting for the trial? Would you like to try it again?"

Hee-joo stopped walking and fell into thought.

The courthouse hallways were bustling with people—prosecutors and judges in robes, prisoners escorted by guards, and people crying loudly.

Her dry lips moistened slightly.

Threats, defamation, obscenity via communication devices, violations of communication secrecy laws…

For the first time, Hee-joo reflected on how her once-bold start in this profession had spiraled into tragedy.

The true dangers, masked by the adrenaline that had long fueled her, became evident

"Hee-joo, are you unwell?"

"No." She smiled faintly at the worried center head.

"Court work… it terrifies me. I can’t continue."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"If I keep coming here, I think I might become a criminal myself."

The defendant’s wife—Hee-joo recognized that face.

It was the same expression she had worn the day she broke through the glass to escape.

When she was a child, there was a phrase in a game her classmates often played:

"The night falls; the mafia silently raises their heads."

And now, the threats had begun to surface.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Hee-joo clutched her phone anxiously.

"But what really happened last night?"

When Baek Sa-oen approached her, Hee-joo couldn’t help but instinctively tense her thighs.

She had used "check for yourself" to provoke him, thinking it would backfire on her.

However, Baek Sa-oen simply talked about the sign language interpreter position, as if the blackmailer’s threats meant nothing to him, and then left.

Was this trust in his wife, or just sheer arrogance?

At that moment, her phone stopped ringing.

"Hello…"

"I’m busy right now. Call back later."

Before she could finish, the call was abruptly cut off.

Beep—

…What?

Hee-joo stared blankly at her phone.

What’s going on?

She felt as if someone had flipped her internal switch, leaving her frozen in place.

Now… what is this?

Her stunned expression quickly twisted into one of anger.

"Ignoring a blackmailer? Are you insane?"

For the first time, Hee-joo pressed the screen with all her might.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

The ability to call was her power. She was the one in control; Baek Sa-oen should be the one forced to follow.

Her bold plan and flimsy threats felt like crumpled paper.

The area under her eyes twitched slightly

"Baek Sa-oen, don’t you dare hang up—"

Click.

"Wait a second—"

"At this point, who’s more desperate, I wonder?"

"If you keep this up, I won’t let you off! Absolutely not!"

Hee-joo raised her voice, though it sounded like bravado.

"Then wait."

"What?"

"If you really want to talk to me, then wait."

"…"

"For an excited pervert like you, this kind of punishment is necessary."

What…?!

"Call me back in five minutes."

Just as Hee-joo was about to lose her temper, the call abruptly ended.

"Ahhh…!"

She threw her phone onto the bed in a fit of rage.

It was the longest five minutes of her life.

Hee-joo kept dialing, but her own persistence began to disgust her.

Finally, she set down her now-heated phone and took a deep breath.

"The moment I got angry, I was already being led by him."

She shouldn’t have lowered herself and compromised her dignity first.

Biting her lip, Hee-joo calmed herself, then redialed.

After what felt like five days crammed into five minutes, she acted.

Beep… Beep…

No matter what, I can’t lose my cool this time. I absolutely can’t lose my cool. Don’t lose your cool…

"A scum like you being useful? What a stroke of luck."

Don’t say anything…

"From now on, kneeling and waiting will suit you."

Don’t lose your cool…

"Who knows? Maybe I’ll even shove a bone in your mouth."

"Do you have a death wish?!"

The calm she had painstakingly regained shattered like a dandelion puff blown apart.

"What exactly do you want?!"

Hee-joo decided her threats might not be concrete enough and resolved to post something online that very day.

Through clenched teeth, she growled,

"I’ll never let you off the hook. Don’t regret this later!"

"Right. Acting now is the best way to avoid regret."

"What?"

"Who else could fix a temper like yours but me?"

"Ha… You’re dead meat!"

Just then, a loud noise erupted from the other end of the line.

The connection grew unstable, crackling with a piercing static.

"What…? Hello? Hello?"

At the same time, a sharp, painful ringing stabbed her ear.

Hee-joo dropped her phone in fright and clutched one ear, feeling like her eardrum was being assaulted.

"What the hell is this…"

She picked up the phone from the floor, but the call never reconnected.

Her ear throbbed as if needles were piercing it.

"Ugh…!"

Hee-joo was convinced he had used some sort of trick to seize control of the conversation.

Panting, she massaged her now-sensitive ear.

Third Call_mp3.

This time, it was a total disaster.

"Ahhhh!"

That night, Baek Sa-oen didn’t come home.

Even in the early hours of the morning, he usually managed to return, but this time, he stayed out overnight—for the first time since their marriage.

"…At around 10:07 p.m. last night, a fire broke out in an office in Yeouido, causing multiple casualties. Here’s the report from JBS journalist Kang Soo-ji."

With a press of the remote, the morning news began playing.

Half-awake, Hee-joo shuffled into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, stacking several small containers of side dishes until they reached her chin.

"A man in a black jacket and hat was seen carrying a white bucket upstairs. He retrieved something from his bag before entering the office on the fifth floor."

Blinking her dry eyes, Hee-joo opened each container one by one.

"Shortly after, flames spread rapidly, and thick smoke began to rise. Frightened by the fire, people hurriedly fled downstairs, but the smoke quickly engulfed the area."

Yesterday, Baek Sa-oen had spent the night out.

There wasn’t any explicit rule against it, but for some reason, it left her unable to sleep.

No, maybe it wasn’t just that. Did she have a nightmare? She tilted her head, trying to recall.

"This is the interior of the office where the fire occurred. Six people were injured. Smoke still fills the room, with debris from victims’ computers scattered everywhere. Structural elements from the ceiling, likely impacted by the explosion, have fallen onto the desks."

Instinctively, Hee-joo practiced signing along with the reporter’s broadcast.

Scooping rice from the cooker, she prepared her spoon and chopsticks.

"A single shoe left behind illustrates the urgency of the situation. The empty office was eerily silent except for the continuous ringing of a phone, presumably belonging to one of the victims."

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

The sound in the report made her pause.

She unconsciously thought of Baek Sa-oen.

Her ears still echoed with the sharp ringing from the previous night’s call, a piercing pain that had yet to fade.

Was it on purpose?

Humiliated by the loss of control, Hee-joo gritted her teeth.

"After over 20 minutes of firefighting efforts, the flames were extinguished. Six individuals who collapsed from inhaling toxic fumes or sustained injuries while fleeing are currently receiving medical treatment."

She plopped onto a chair and finally took a bite of rice.

Glancing at the TV, she noticed the broadcast had shifted from the fire site to the studio.

"This is an exclusive JBS recording of the suspect’s voice. The suspect was known to harbor resentment toward the victims, frequently making threatening calls and even warning of the crime beforehand."

At that moment, Hee-joo’s spoon clattered to the floor.

Chapter 16:

Overnight, Baek Sa-oen had become the arsonist responsible for killing six people with toxic gas.

Was it the shock of this development? For several days, not only did he refrain from going out, but the nightly 10 p.m. threatening calls had also ceased.

If Baek Sa-oen's plan had been to intimidate the blackmailer into retreat, then it was a resounding success.

As “Voice-Changing Threat” became a trending keyword in real-time searches, Hee-joo found herself losing her appetite entirely.

"I’ve become the voice of an arsonist!"

The more she thought about it, the more she felt wronged, absurd, and enraged.

Hee-joo hated reliving that morning and despised feeling powerless, so she resolved to step outside for once.

Though her motives were somewhat shallow, she still wanted to do something meaningful.

"There’s really only one place I can go."

The sign language interpretation center.

The moment she stepped inside, she almost bumped into Han Joon, the center’s director, who was rushing out with a serious expression.

Today, as always, he wore a fluorescent Hawaiian shirt and a gold chain.

Despite his frequent complaints that sign language interpreters should dress modestly, like a blank chalkboard, Han Joon himself was undoubtedly the most flamboyant person there.

"Ah…! Darling, hallelujah!"

He suddenly grabbed Hee-joo’s hand as if welcoming an angel.

"Hee-joo, you're here just in time! Sorry to ask, but can you do me a favor?"

‘What is it?’ she asked in sign language, trying to free her hand from his grip.

"There's a position open today, and no one can fill in," the director said with a troubled look, frowning deeply.

‘What position?’

He led Hee-joo to the sign language relay center—a place providing real-time communication mediation services for the hearing impaired, using voice, text, or sign language to act as a communication intermediary.

While pulling her along, the director begged earnestly.

"You’ve studied it before, right? You should be able to do it. Anything requiring voice can go to the person next to you—you only need to handle what you can manage. Just one hour...! Only one hour!"

He clasped his hands together, pleading sincerely.

"Your biased uncle will repay you a hundredfold for this!"

Despite his impassioned request, Hee-joo scratched her neck lazily, looking uninterested.

Seeing this, Han Joon clearly felt embarrassed and switched to flattery to win her over.

"I recently attended a new sign language conference at the National Institute of Korean Language. We were discussing how to interpret songs by the American singer Kariba in sign language... We've been debating fiercely lately."

Exhaustion suddenly swept over his face.

"But it's so difficult... The lyrics are too explicit..."

Kariba...?

"Explicit lyrics?"

Hee-joo stared at him, and the director's face flushed.

"I don’t think it’s appropriate to explain in front of you..."

‘I’m not a child,’ she signed back.

"Alright, alright," he said, gently patting her head.

"Anyway, there’s an upcoming concert, and they need a sign language interpreter. I’ll recommend you for it. Your English is excellent, and interpreting the artist’s words would be perfect for you."

Hearing this, Hee-joo immediately thought of Baek Sa-oen's suggestion to work as a sign language interpreter at the Blue House.

She unconsciously licked her lips.

"So, please help me out—just one hour! Darling, I owe you one…!"

Han Joon was truly swamped and dashed off in a hurry.

Hee-joo greeted her colleagues and put on her headset.

‘You could’ve just said whatever to me…’

Han Joon had been an adult she’d seen at the center since she was nine years old.

Back then, he was a lively young man in his twenties, always playful and full of jokes. Over the years, she and Han Joon had become a well-coordinated team.

But with Baek Sa-oen, who had been by her side for just as long, they had grown into a relationship more distant than that of strangers.

"Ah...!"

In that instant, she recalled the hand that had once gripped her thigh so tightly, and her face involuntarily stiffened.

It was just a name—why was she reacting like this?

Startled, Hee-joo slapped her cheeks lightly.

‘You were already looking for an excuse to escape, and now this!’

Ignoring the heat rising to her face, she activated the program. The phone began to ring incessantly.

Hee-joo focused on her role as an intermediary, relaying everything from casual calls between friends to communications with public and financial institutions. It was nonstop work.

Just as she stretched her arms to relax, a video call came through.

"A video call...!"

This was specifically for sign language communication. Hee-joo stretched her fingers nimbly and confidently pressed the accept button.

"Wow…!"

A vast, clear blue sky filled the screen. The video wobbled slightly before the caller’s face finally appeared.

Against the backdrop of the blue sky, curls of hair fluttered in the wind.

"Hello…"

Just as Hee-joo was about to greet the caller in sign language, a chill ran down her spine.

The man on the screen was grinning so widely it stretched to his ears.

"Sister, long time no see?"

"…!"

A face that was both unfamiliar and familiar pressed right up against the camera lens. His exaggerated features filled the screen, so distorted that they resembled some kind of reptile.

"Uh…"

The scream rising in her throat turned into a low moan.

"It’s been a while, relay girl, it’s really been a while."

"…!"

"Oh, by the way, is my old phone still in use?"

That… that voice…!

Her breath hitched, and her hands trembled.

Why was he suddenly here? Hadn’t he disappeared after that failed attempt?

"I know this place. The Sign Language Interpretation Center, representative number 107. Even someone like me can request a relay call, right?"

"…"

"I have someone I want to call. Your husband, Baek Sa-oen. Help me reach him. Baek Sa-oen. Damn it, Baek Sa-oen!"

"…!"

The memories of that day weighed down on Hee-joo, rendering her completely paralyzed.

It felt as though phantom raindrops were still pelting her cheeks. Her chest tightened, and she panted in fragmented breaths.

"You helped me that time too. I’m grateful. But why won’t you help me anymore? Why won’t you call him? Why, why?!"

He smashed his phone against his forehead, the screen shaking wildly.

"I’m on your side!"

Hee-joo’s complexion turned pale, her foot fumbling beneath the desk for the power button.

"So I set the fire. I lit it for you."

"…!"

Her outstretched leg froze mid-motion.

"I did well, didn’t I? I did the right thing, didn’t I?"

He smiled, as if awaiting praise, but the dangerous glint in his eyes betrayed any semblance of innocence.

"People… got hurt…"

For the first time, Hee-joo disregarded the presence of those around her and forced herself to speak. But her voice came in gasps, broken and frail.

"That’s why I’d rather they all just die."

His scruffy appearance and flippant tone melted away. Framed by the blue sky, the man’s smile seemed almost pure.

"How dare that damn bastard ignore my sister’s calls!"

The phone she had found that day—had it been a tool to change her life for the better or to ruin it completely?

Wasn’t it supposed to be the thing that saved her from her miserable life?

"Sister, keep calling. Keep doing it."

What exactly was the thing I picked up that day…

"From now on, always be my voice."

What on earth was it?

"Be my messenger."

An indescribable sense of despair struck Hee-joo like lightning from above.

"Just like you heard about the divorce, I have things I want to hear too."

He swayed on the screen, swinging back and forth like he was on a swing.

"I have things I want to hear too."

The kidnapper, wearing an innocent expression with his mouth open wide, spoke with a tone that hid malice.

"You can keep using the phone. Divorce—that’s all I want to hear until it happens. I don’t care if Baek Sa-oen loses everything; that’s fine by me. In exchange…"

The screen swayed closer and farther, like a pendulum, its motion making her heart uneasy.

"You’ll hear the things I want to hear for me."

The words were cryptic, but they instilled an undeniable sense of dread. His seemingly simple request was laced with a terror she couldn’t quite place.

Her hands instinctively clenched into fists, her chest tight with anxiety. Hee-joo stared blankly at the screen, her breath catching, when suddenly she shot up from her chair.

"Wait, that’s…!"

Her trembling voice cracked mid-sentence.

"Where... where are you now...?"

At Hee-joo's trembling question, he gently tapped the camera lens. The once-clear image instantly turned a vivid crimson. The overwhelming scent of blood seemed to waft through the screen.

"!"

The man spread his blood-soaked hand wide, grinning like a blooming trumpet flower.

"Do you understand now, sister? Once it begins, you have to see it through to the end."

Hee-joo ripped off her headset, as if possessed, and bolted out of the room.

The people in the communication center glanced at her fleetingly but quickly lost interest. Just as she stormed out, Han Jun, the center director, called out, "Hey, Hee-joo...! Wait, where are you going, my dear!"

But she didn't look back. Something had gone terribly wrong.

The kidnapper's last words pierced her mind like nails.

"Otherwise, you'll lose everything

"Ah... ah..."

Her father's faint groans echoed from the hallway.

Hee-joo pushed through the crowd, hurrying toward her father, who was surrounded by police.

The first thing she saw was the stark crimson of uncleaned bedsheets.

The nurse on duty stomped nervously when she spotted Hee-joo.

"I... I thought I had to call the police..."

Her father's mouth, neck, and hospital gown were stained with bright red blood, as vivid as freshly spilled paint.

Hee-joo's legs nearly gave out beneath her, trembling so much that she could barely stand.