Shivani stood by the window, listening to the silence. Her thoughts had already drifted elsewhere. Moonlight lay across the room, and through it, Yug's condition reached her at once. He was close to death.
He had seen through me, yet he was already near death. Interesting.
She returned to her bed, lost in thought. A cold breeze unfurled around her. After a moment, she made her decision.
"I should give him a reward," she murmured, then slipped out through the window without a sound.
It was not mere interest that drew her there. She had motives of her own, and Yug could still be useful to her.
Knock. Knock.
"Lady Shivani, it's me, Anaya."
"…"
Anaya received no response. She knocked again, but as before, silence answered her. Still, she did not leave. Shivani was her only option.
"Lady… Lady…" Her head lowered as she fought back a sob, hope slipping from her little by little. She began to think Shivani was ignoring her, and the thought filled her with frustration. At last, she decided to cross the line. She could not give up on the brother she had lived beside for so many years—not like her father and elder brother, whom she sometimes did not see for an entire year.
"Lady Shivani… forgive me, but I'm coming in."
Anaya surveyed the room. Cold air pressed against her skin, and the wind drifted in through the window. No one was there. She shivered, and a sharp gasp escaped her as the weight of the situation closed in.
"Why would she leave now…?"
"Miss! Miss—!"
Someone was calling her, yet she was slowly losing herself as the moments passed. Time was running out, and she had not a single clue—nothing except Shivani's last words.
"Hah…"
Turning away, she knew there was no use in remaining there. She staggered toward the voice. It was familiar, and she knew clearly who was calling her.
She reached the place where the old man was speaking to a policeman while servants shouted all around them. The noise died the moment she arrived.
Everyone turned toward her.
She studied their faces. Suspicion and hesitation were written across them.
"What happened now?"
One of the police officers stepped forward. He looked young, but there was a quiet confidence in him that made Anaya pay attention.
"Miss Anaya, we have news about your brother, but—"
"What is it?" she cut in before he could finish.
He faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the desperation in her voice.
"We received a call from an unknown number," he said quickly, before she could do anything rash. "The caller gave us a location and claimed your brother was there. But it could be fake. It could be a trap, or a distraction that might put him in even greater danger. So I suggest—"
"Where can I find him?"
Silence followed her words. The recklessness in them was obvious.
The old man stared at her in shock. He had never seen her like this—not this desperate, not this reckless. It's too dangerous. I can't let her go alone.
"Miss, I think you misunderstood," the old man said. "The officer was speaking about an unknown caller. It could be a trap or a distraction. So please—"
"I heard what they said," Anaya cut in. "You don't need to explain to me what I already know. Just give me the location."
She cut him off before he could finish. The officers fell silent. Her desperation was plain now.
***
The man entered the factory and searched for Yug.
He found Yug in the corner, his clothes torn and stained with blood. The sight filled him with grim satisfaction.
Step. Step.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Yug flinched and turned his head toward him. He said nothing and remained where he was.
"Why are you hiding those eyes of yours?" A grin spread across the man's face as he played with the knife in his hand.
The man noticed the rope tied tightly over Yug's eyes, serving as a crude blindfold. It would make his work harder, but that only made it more exciting. Gouging out both eyes would be far more satisfying if the victim tried to resist.
"Why am I here? What will you gain from this?" Yug's voice echoed through the space, carrying no fear—only indifference.
The man shivered. The words felt strangely heavy. He stopped, tightened his grip on the knife, and looked at Yug again.
Silence tightened around the place, strange and wrong, as though a deer had looked at a lion and seen prey.
"It doesn't concern you, kid." He gritted his teeth, irritation hardening his face.
The fear creeping into him was unacceptable. It made no sense. Only hours ago, he had tortured the boy himself. From his side, there was nothing to fear.
So he moved. Sprinting at Yug, he sneered, "You're going to enjoy this."
He lunged.
Yug shifted back, opening space for himself.
"Yes," Yug said. "You're right. I'm going to enjoy this."
Yug pulled his fist back and slammed it into the man's cheek.
BAM!
The punch was so heavy that he nearly blacked out.
For a moment, he could not even think. What had just happened?
He had never taken a hit like that before. It shattered every trace of smugness in him and forced the truth of the situation into his bones. His body would not obey him. His legs weakened. His jaw felt broken. Terror spread through his entire frame.
What? How? He is just a kid. No… not anymore. A monster.
He tried to steady himself, shaking his head and forcing his body to respond—
—but a kick struck the back of his head.
He collapsed to the ground without resistance.
"Do you have anything you want to say to your next-life self?" Yug asked, his expression unchanged.
He bent down, picked up the knife lying beside the man, and moved closer. Then he crouched near him, pointed the blade at his head, and slowly pushed it forward.
Tears slipped from his eyes, and his lips trembled on the edge of surrender. Pain coursed through him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
Yug kept pressing the blade forward, waiting for an answer.
"Ahh… spare… me…?"
"Why would I?" Yug asked. "Give me a reason. Why do you want to live?"
It was a simple question, but to Yug, it meant everything. More than anything else, he wanted to know the answer.
"Please…"
"Hm. Hah."
STAB!
Pressing his hand down firmly, Yug ended his life in an instant.
He watched him for a brief moment, then rose with a heavy sigh. Looking down, he said,
"May peace find you, not memory."
Yug stepped out of the factory.
Though blindfolded, he could feel the air against his skin and smell the salt of the ocean. Voices drifted into his ears—gang members, countless of them. He could tell their number at once. There were well over a hundred.
It made no difference to him.
"Still the same. Nothing changed."
"How the hell did you get out here?" someone shouted, instantly on guard. His hand moved toward the gun at his back.
The voice behind him told Yug everything he needed to know. He was not safe yet. He still had to get out of here—or kill whatever stood in his way.
He tightened his grip on the knife and did not turn.
"I wanted some air."
The answer made the man's eyes narrow.
Where is that idiot? Don't tell me he left the kid alone.
Irritation flared in him at once.
Is he playing around again? Does he not realize how dangerous this is? What if the kid runs?
He strode toward Yug.
"You little—"
The moment his hand touched Yug's shoulder—
Slash!
Yug slashed open the front of his neck. It happened so fast that the man did not even feel the blade before he hit the ground.
Shot! Shot!
Gunfire burst from the other side, echoing through the port. Yug rolled across the ground and threw himself behind the containers.
"Shit."
His right hand clamped over his bleeding shoulder.
"You brat, come out. If I find you, I'll make you beg for death."
He listened for every sound around him, but his own body was already giving him away. Sweat slid from his temple. His chest rose too fast, each breath rougher than the last, and the gun in his hand kept moving through the dark with restless uncertainty.
Yug stayed hidden, waiting like a predator.
Then he heard many footsteps rushing their way.
The approaching footsteps changed his plan.
He had been about to kill the man, but with the others closing in, he chose to run.
The sound of the waves reached Yug's ears, calm and distant, as though the ocean itself were calling him.
He made his choice.
Leaving the shelter of the containers behind, he ran straight for the sea.
Shot! Shot!
"Grab him! He's running!"
"Catch that punk!"
Footsteps pounded after him, but he did not look back. He ran toward the ocean with heavy breaths, avoiding only the bullets that truly mattered.
"Huff… huff…"
Pahh!
He plunged into the sea. The night swallowed him whole.