The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Ji-hoon lay on his bed, one arm resting behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The light was off. Only the faint glow from the streetlamp outside slipped through the curtains, cutting across the room in thin lines.
He hadn't slept.
Not really.
His mother's voice kept repeating in his head.
"Be careful, son."
He turned slightly to the side, exhaling through his nose.
"Too much imagination…" he muttered under his breath.
Before leaving the hospital, he had smiled at her—calm, reassuring.
"No need to worry. Maybe it's just a misunderstanding."
He had said it casually.
Like it meant nothing.
But now—
Lying alone in the dark—
It didn't feel like nothing.
That sentence.
"I want your son."
Not meet.
Not talk.
Not see.
Want.
Ji-hoon closed his eyes for a moment.
Replayed the store.
Black shirt.
Rolled sleeves.
Scars.
And that look.
That strange… satisfaction.
His brows furrowed slightly.
"…I'll figure it out."
The words formed quietly in his mind.
Not emotional.
Not dramatic.
Just a decision.
Evening came faster than expected.
Ji-hoon stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his shirt. His movements were automatic—routine. Bag. Keys. Phone.
Everything normal.
He paused for a second.
Looked at his reflection.
Nothing looked different.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same life.
"…Right."
He grabbed his bag and left.
The streets were alive again.
Night traffic. Neon lights. People moving with purpose or without it. The city had returned to its usual rhythm, as if nothing strange had ever happened.
Ji-hoon walked toward the store.
Calm.
But his mind wasn't.
He was thinking.
Something specific.
Something precise.
But it didn't show on his face.
Not yet.
The convenience store looked exactly the same.
Fluorescent lights.
Empty aisles.
Soft hum of machines.
Ji-hoon stepped inside, placed his bag down, and took his position behind the counter.
Time passed.
Customers came and went.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing out of place.
He worked like always—scanning items, giving change, minimal conversation.
But his eyes—
They moved more.
Not nervously.
Observing.
Waiting.
For something.
Or someone.
Midnight.
The door slid open.
The sound was the same.
But this time—
Ji-hoon looked up immediately.
She walked in.
Baek Do-yeon.
Same black shirt.
Same rolled sleeves.
Same controlled steps.
But something was different.
She didn't look at him.
Not even once.
Not like before.
No pause.
No eye contact.
Nothing.
She walked straight to the cigarette rack.
Picked one.
Turned.
Walked to the counter.
Placed it down.
Silence.
Ji-hoon didn't scan it immediately.
He looked at her.
Directly.
"…Who are you?"
The question came out flat.
No hesitation.
No buildup.
Just straight.
Do-yeon's hand paused for a fraction of a second.
Then—
She laughed.
Soft.
Low.
Cold.
Not loud.
Not expressive.
Just enough to feel wrong.
"Me?" she said.
Her voice was calm.
Controlled.
Almost amused.
"I'm Baek Do-yeon."
Ji-hoon didn't react.
Didn't blink.
Just watched.
"We need to talk," he said.
Same tone.
Same directness.
She tilted her head slightly.
A faint smile appeared.
Not warm.
Not friendly.
Something else.
"As you wish," she said quietly.
A pause.
Then—
"After all… you are my little toy."
Ji-hoon's eyes narrowed slightly.
Not in fear.
In confusion.
But he didn't ask.
Didn't react.
Just picked up the cigarette pack.
Scanned it.
Beep.
He handed it to her.
She took it.
Their fingers didn't touch.
Again.
They walked outside.
No rush.
No urgency.
Just movement.
Side by side.
Then slowly—
The distance changed.
Ji-hoon moved ahead.
Do-yeon followed behind.
Like she preferred it that way.
The street was mostly empty.
A few passing cars.
Distant sounds.
Nothing close enough to interrupt them.
Ji-hoon spoke first.
"How do you know my mother?"
His voice was calm.
Measured.
Do-yeon didn't answer immediately.
Her footsteps remained steady.
Then—
"By seeing your family photo."
Ji-hoon's pace slowed slightly.
"…Where?"
"In your room."
The words were simple.
But they landed heavy.
Ji-hoon stopped.
Turned his head slightly.
Not fully.
Just enough.
"How did you get that?"
Do-yeon smiled.
He couldn't see it fully from his angle—
But he felt it.
"I saw it."
"That's not what I asked."
A brief silence.
Then—
"I don't need to get in," she said.
Calm.
Almost casual.
"As if explaining something obvious."
A pause.
Then—
"I saw it through the camera."
Ji-hoon stopped walking completely.
Turned around.
Fully this time.
But—
There was no one behind him.
Empty street.
No footsteps.
No sound.
Nothing.
His eyes scanned quickly.
Left.
Right.
Behind.
No movement.
No shadow.
No trace.
"…What?"
His breathing changed slightly.
Not panic.
But sharper.
More alert.
He took a step back.
Then another.
Still nothing.
She was gone.
Like she had never been there.
Ji-hoon didn't waste time.
He turned.
And ran.
The streets blurred.
His footsteps echoed louder than usual.
His mind raced faster than his body.
Camera.
Room.
Photo.
Her voice.
"I saw it through the camera."
He reached his house.
Unlocked the door quickly.
Entered.
Closed it behind him.
No pause.
Straight to his room.
He looked around.
Everything was the same.
Bed.
Desk.
Books.
Nothing moved.
Nothing touched.
But now—
It didn't feel the same.
His eyes sharpened.
Scanning.
Not casually.
Systematically.
Corners.
Ceiling.
Shelves.
Objects.
Then—
He saw it.
Small.
Almost invisible.
Near the corner above his desk.
A tiny black dot.
Ji-hoon stepped closer.
Reached up.
Pulled it out.
A mini camera.
His jaw tightened.
No shock.
Just confirmation.
He stared at it for a second.
Then—
Crushed it in his hand.
Plastic cracked.
The lens shattered.
Pieces fell to the floor.
Silence.
Heavy.
Real.
Ji-hoon stood there.
Breathing steady.
But his mind—
No longer calm.
"…Not a misunderstanding."
Somewhere else—
Far from the quiet room—
A screen flickered.
On a phone.
The image distorted.
Then cut.
Baek Do-yeon watched.
Her eyes steady.
Unmoving.
The signal died.
A faint smile appeared.
Small.
Sharp.
Satisfied.
"…Good."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Not surprised.
Not annoyed.
Just… pleased.
To Be Continued….