[Ming's POV]
Everyone had left. I remained alone, my legs refusing to carry me another step, as if the very earth had swallowed my strength, leaving me a hollow shell amidst the ruins. I didn't know if this crushing weight in my chest was grief over the bitter defeat, or the agonizing realization that my recklessness had led to her death.
The silence in the hideout was lethal—a heavy, suffocating shroud. The air was a nauseating cocktail of the metallic tang of warm blood and the cold, damp scent of the rain seeping through the cracks. I tried to clean the "Cheongsam" from her blood; I wanted to keep a piece of her, a memory. But the silk was treacherous; its slippery texture only caused the stains to smear further, spreading like a map of unspoken pain. Every time my fingers brushed the fabric, a numbing chill raced through my veins, as if the silk were turning into shards of ice, lacerating my skin from the inside out.
I dropped it and began searching every corner of the room for a sign, a single thread to pull at the truth. The raindrops hammered against the window with a frantic rhythm that mirrored my erratic heartbeat. Inside me, a forest of sorrow and suppressed rage threatened to burn everything to the ground.
Suddenly, something caught the dim light amidst the dust. It was her hair ornament—the one with the dragon engraving. But it was snapped in two. The dragon, once a symbol of her fierce power, lay broken. A violent struggle must have taken place here before the final act. Had she escaped? Was this blood merely a decoy to make the gangs of Gangnam believe she was dead? Or had she truly fallen? I couldn't believe she was that naive. "S" wasn't just a girl; she was a hurricane... and hurricanes do not die quietly.
I stumbled upon an old wooden box in a shadowed corner. I blew away the dust of years until my lungs burned. I slid the key into the lock, which had been eaten away by rust. The metal shrieked as it turned, as if protesting the revelation of its secrets.
[S's POV]
The darkness wasn't empty; it was heavy, like a leaden coffin. The acrid stench of cheap cigarette smoke pierced my lungs, a grim reminder of the filthy dens of Gangnam. My head felt weighted, as if someone had poured molten lead into my skull. I couldn't open my eyes, but my senses were on high alert.
The texture of the wall behind me was rough, cold, and damp—the unmistakable signature of an underground cellar. Suddenly, a familiar voice sliced through the silence like a jagged blade.
"You're finally awake," a cold voice muttered.
I forced my eyes open. It was a face I hadn't seen in years, a face I thought the grave had swallowed long ago. I looked into his eyes and saw that same hollow void I had carved into him in the past.
"I thought I finished you, Mr. Jun-ho?" I whispered, my voice hoarse and sharp as a needle. "Why have you returned from hell?"
Jun-ho leaned in, the flicker of his lighter reflecting an ancient malice. "You only burned the surface, S. But the roots are still bleeding beneath the earth." His violent hand reached out and gripped my hair, jerking my head back to witness my supposed defeat. "I will return to be the Master of Gangnam. Gangnam belongs to the Koreans, not to the cursed Chinese dragon, Tian Long."
My hands were bound behind my back with coarse ropes that bit into my wrists. I kept a mask of icy indifference on my face while my fingers worked feverishly in the shadows to free myself. I looked at the man standing in the darkness behind him and spoke with biting sarcasm: "Welcome back, Typhon the traitor... Did my father tell you to bring me here to dispose of me, or is this a personal effort to prove your loyalty to your new master?"
In a split second, as Jun-ho was distracted by his own arrogance, the ropes gave way. I spotted a iron rod lying beside me. With a movement faster than light, I grabbed it and struck Jun-ho's head with all my might. He collapsed like a lifeless heap.
Typhon lunged at me, and we began a dance of death. He was massive, but I had the "Dagger" hidden in the folds of my sleeves—my secret weapon that never leaves my side. I feigned exhaustion, backing away and panting as if I were surrendering. Then, in a flash, I unsheathed the blade and buried it in his knee. His scream of agony was the music I fled to, disappearing into the dark corridors of the basement.
[Return to Ming]
My eyes widened in shock as I clutched the yellowed paper hidden in the box.
"S" was merely a shadow of a girl named "Sai"!!
But who was Sai? And why all this deception? I sank to the cold floor, leaning my back against the wall, holding the old photograph between my trembling fingers. I stared at her features. The truth was now more terrifying than death itself.