A week passed.
On the first day, Jun came to check on me. He apologized—said he never meant to force me to play, never meant to put me in this mess.
I forgave him.
Because what else could I do?
He told me to recover soon. To come back. His tone sounded like concern, but it wasn't. It was an order.
He didn't need me.
He needed a player.
Maybe that's all I ever was to everyone—a player in the game.
After that, no one came.
Not my mom.
Not Jiwoo.
Not Christine.
Not even Seokmin.
And Seungmin—
That fucking Seungmin.
I thought unloving him would break me. Turns out, hating him is easier. I gave him everything—my trust, my loyalty, my life. And what did he give me back? Nothing. Not even truth.
I'll never forgive you, Seungmin. Never.
What if I die here? No one will care. No one will come.
It was Sunday, and I lay on the bed, lost in these thoughts, when the doorbell rang. Jiwoo stood outside.
When she saw me—bruised, covered in bandages—her face didn't move. No shock. No pity. Nothing. She never cared.
I handed her a glass of water. She drank it like she hadn't tasted silence in years. Then she said,
"Han… Joon Akazki is coming."
"So what?" I asked flatly.
"He's coming to take over the business."
I laughed—bitter, hollow. "It's already his. Why are you pretending to care?"
"Because before he comes, he'll eliminate every obstacle. We're the obstacles. Dad's disappointed in us. He'll kill us to make things clear for Akazki."
I paused. I'd nearly died a week ago. The pain still lingered, deep in my bones. But dying… no. Even alone, I didn't want to die.
She sounded calm saying it. That annoyed me.
"So what do you want me to do? Take everything on myself so you can live peacefully with your girlfriend?"
Jiwoo's eyes flickered, but her face stayed calm.
"No, Han. Christine left because I didn't help you that day. But I spoke to her father—he's willing to help us. Akazki will arrive in two or three months. We'll leave before that."
I laughed coldly. "You want to save me… because your girlfriend told you to?"
"No. Because I couldn't save Jihyee," she said, her voice trembling for the first time. "I was scared then. But this time… I won't be."
I stared at her. "So this is about guilt. You want to save me to bury it. Isn't that right, Jiwoo?"
She looked straight at me.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "For being a bad sister. But more than that—for not saving Jihyee when I could have. I'm sorry, Han. For taking your sister away."
The air froze.
For a moment, I didn't recognize her. She'd never acted like that before. Now, with Christine's influence, she was finally starting to care—or maybe she just acted that way for Christine. People in love did act stupidly.
I smiled—not kindly.
"You and Seungmin are the same," I said. "You say words, but they don't reach me. They're empty. You talk about guilt like it's currency you can spend to buy forgiveness."
"Then tell me," she said quietly, "what should I do to make you believe I'm sorry?"
I leaned back, voice low.
"Maybe if you got on your knees and begged for forgiveness."
She hesitated, then nodded.
"If that's all it takes, I'll do it."
She started to kneel. I grabbed her arm.
That crazy girl. She'd kneel in front of me—never even in front of Dad. What would she do after that, kill me?
"Enough. I believe you," I said, stopping her. Today was not my day to die.