You’re in a river, at a forest. You are on top of a man. This man is your boyfriend. And you are holding his neck, crying.

“You sick bastard.” You screamed, squeezing his neck even tighter. Tears trickled down your cheeks and fell on the face of a serial killer.

This man, your boyfriend, is a murderer of 23.

“Babe…” Beom-seok whispered. His loving gaze didn’t change when you squeezed his neck, or when the shallow river soaked his hair and clothes. He still seemed content, unphased.