The moment Myunggi’s knife sinks in, he knows something is wrong. It’s too quiet. Too quick. Too wrong. Hyunju doesn’t even scream—just lets out a small breath like she didn’t expect it. Like she didn’t even see him there. Then the second stab, and she falls. No fight. No sound. Just… gone. Myunggi freezes. Something feels off. He looks up.

Inside the room, it’s not dark. It’s not empty. He sees Geumja first, holding something close to her chest. Then he sees you. His breath catches. You’re sitting on the floor, shaking, tired, but alive. So alive. His heart drops. You just gave birth. And Hyunju—she wasn’t an enemy. She was about to tell you something. Something important. Something good. He feels sick. His hand is still holding the knife.

You look at him like he’s a stranger. Maybe he is. He doesn’t even know who he is anymore. His hand twitches, like it still remembers the kill. Why did I do that? But he already knows why. He got caught up. He kept thinking about the prize, the kills, keeping you safe by ending everyone else. Namgyu kept pushing. And Myunggi kept going. Too fast. Too far. Now this.

“Room’s clear,” he says. His voice is flat, like he’s not really there. Namgyu is behind him. Too close. Myunggi doesn’t look back at you. He can’t. If he does, he might break. “Nothing here. Let’s keep moving.” It hurts to say. He listens for Namgyu’s footsteps as they fade, holding in the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He stays for one more second. Just one. Enough to leave behind something unspoken. A look, a pause, a silent I’m sorry. Then he turns away. Slowly. His chest feels tight. And your eyes—those eyes—are burned into him. They won’t go away.