Kyung-jun felt something inside him shatter.

Minji was standing there—alive, breathing, real.

But she wasn't.

Not in the way he needed her to be.

His hands trembled as he pushed himself up, every part of him screaming that this was a mistake, that something had gone horribly, irreversibly wrong.

"Minji..." His voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flickered to him, cool and distant, as if she were looking at a stranger.

"Kyung-jun."

It was his name. Just his name. Nothing more. No warmth, no softness, no familiarity.

His stomach twisted painfully. It was like hearing it from a ghost.

"You..you're back..." Na-hee's voice wavered as she took a step forward, her entire body shaking. "I—I mised you—"

Minji glanced at her, her expression unreadable. "I know."

Na-hee's breath hitched. There was no gratitude in her tone, no relief, no emotion at all.

Kyung-jun couldn't take it.

He crossed the space between them, grabbing her wrist. It was warm. Alive.

And yet—

"Say something else," he whispered, his grip tightening. "Anything."

She blinked, tilting her head slightly. "What do you want me to say?"

That you remember.
That you're still you.
That you didn't leave me behind.

But he couldn't say any of that. His throat was closing up, his chest tightening with something unbearable.

"Minji," he breathed, desperation laced in every syllable. "Please."

She studied him for a long moment, then gently pried his fingers off her wrist.

"I think you're looking for someone who isn't here anymore."

The final thread holding him together snapped.

His knees hit the ground before he even realized what was happening. His vision blurred, hot tears slipping down his face, his entire body trembling as a sob tore through him.

He had already lost her once.

Now, she was right in front of him—breathing, standing, existing—
And yet, she was farther away than ever.

And the worst part?

She didn't even care.

She turned away, walking past him without another glance.

No hesitation. No second thought.

As if everything they had meant nothing.

As if he was nothing.

Kyung-jun stayed on his knees, staring at the cold, empty space where she had been just moments ago.

His hands clenched into fists against the ground, nails digging into his palms so hard he thought they might draw blood. But nothing—nothing—could hurt more than this.

Minji was alive.

But she wasn't his Minji anymore.

Not the girl who used to laugh at his dumb jokes.
Not the girl who used to pull him into the sun when he refused to leave the shade.

He let out a choked breath, trying to steady himself, but his whole body was shaking.

The photos in his phone. The warmth of her voice. The way she used to look at him like he mattered.

Gone.

Erased.

Replaced by this hollow version of her. A girl with the same face, the same voice, the same name—
But nothing else.

His fingers curled around his phone in his pocket, his grip so tight it felt like he could crush it.

If he looked at their old photos again, would it even make a difference?

Would the girl in those pictures even recognize herself now?

He wanted to scream. To tear the whole damn game apart. To break something—anything—just to match the wreckage inside him.

But all he could do was kneel there, his chest rising and falling with shallow, broken breaths.

Then, suddenly—

"Kim Minji is shielded for the rest of the game."

The voice rang through the air, mechanical, merciless.

Kyung-jun's head snapped up, his heart pounding.

Shielded?

His stomach twisted violently, dread curling around his ribs like a vice.

That meant—

No one could touch her. No one could kill her. No one could save her.

She was untouchable. Unreachable. Forever.

And that was when Kyung-jun realized—

He had lost her for good.

This wasn't just death.

This was worse.

Because now, she would live on, standing right in front of him every single day—
And he would never have her back.

The moment the announcement echoed through the air, the remaining players snapped out of their stunned silence.

"Minji—?"

Footsteps pounded against the cold floor as they rushed toward the source of the voice, pushing through the heavy doors of the morgue-like cold room. The air inside was frigid, biting into their skin, but none of them cared. Their eyes were locked on the figure standing in the middle of the room, the only one who shouldn't be there.

Kim Minji.

Alive.

And yet—not.

She stood there, her back straight, her expression unreadable. Her usual warmth was gone, replaced by something eerily distant. Her eyes, once so full of light, now seemed void of emotion—calculating, cold, like the surface of a frozen lake.

Mina gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, her body trembling. "No way..."

Na-hee took a desperate step forward, tears already falling. "Minji—Minji, is that really you?"

Minji turned her head slightly at the sound of her name, but there was no flicker of recognition, no relief, no Minji.

Just silence.

Kyung-jun had barely moved since he saw her. His hands clenched at his sides, his breath shallow and uneven. He felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, his entire world tilting, threatening to pull him under.

Finally, he forced his voice out—hoarse, broken.

"Minji...?"

She looked at him.

But it wasn't her.

Her gaze was sharp, impassive. Like he was just another player. Just another piece in this godforsaken game.

His heart cracked.

No. No, no, no.

"Say something," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Minji blinked slowly, tilting her head slightly as if studying him. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady—empty.

"Why?"

The single word shattered him.

He staggered back a step, his entire body trembling. "Why?" he repeated, his voice breaking. "Minji, what the hell are you talking about? It's me."

Minji exhaled softly, her cold gaze unwavering. "Why do you look at me like that?"

Kyung-jun felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Because you were everything to me.
Because I would've died for you.
Because I don't know how to breathe without you.

His throat closed up, his vision blurring.

But Minji just stared at him, unfazed. "I'm not the person you lost."

The final blow.

His breath hitched. His entire body locked up, unable to move, unable to think—unable to accept this.

"Minji—" His voice cracked into something pitiful, something he didn't even recognize.

She didn't react.

She was right there, standing just a few feet away—
And yet, she felt farther than ever.

He had lost her.

Not to death. Not to the game.

But to this.

This cruel, twisted existence where she was alive but didn't belong to herself anymore. Where she was untouchable, unreachable, unfamiliar.

His hands clenched into fists. His nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.

He had killed people for her. Lied, manipulated, destroyed—for her.

And now, she looked at him like he was nothing.

Kyung-jun swallowed the lump in his throat, his vision spinning. His whole body was screaming at him to do something, to fix this.

But there was nothing to fix.

Because the girl he loved was gone.

And this person—this cold, distant version of Minji—was never coming back.