The mechanical voice rang out through the underground facility, cold and emotionless.

"Kim Jin-ha is dead."

A hush fell over the group as the words sank in. The players, one by one, stirred from their unconscious states, their bodies stiff and sore from the forced sleep. Their groggy confusion quickly turned into wide-eyed horror as their gazes landed on Jin-ha's lifeless body. Blood stained his shirt, his face frozen in an expression of shock, his body sprawled lifelessly on the cold floor.

"Kim Jin-ha was a civilian."

A heavy silence filled the room, thick with unease. Some gasped, others took cautious steps backward. Even those who had doubted him found themselves shaken—because this was real. Another life taken. Another reminder that none of them were safe.

"The Blackmailed used their power on Choi Mina."

Mina's breath hitched as all eyes turned toward her. She took a step back, her hands shaking, her lips parting as if to defend herself—but the weight of everything that had happened crushed her voice before it could even form words.

But Kyung-jun wasn't listening.

None of it mattered to him.

The moment he opened his eyes, the first thing his mind registered was Minji.

Still. Cold. Lifeless.

Without a word, without even acknowledging the others, he moved—swift, silent. His feet carried him back to her, to where her body remained near the pool, untouched since last night. His heart twisted violently at the sight of her, but he made no sound, showed no hesitation. He simply lowered himself to his knees beside her, reaching for her in the way he had so many times before—only this time, she wouldn't respond.

Carefully, as if she were something fragile, he gathered her into his arms. His hands ran along the fabric of her clothes, tracing the shape of her as if trying to memorize her presence—though he already knew it by heart. His fingers tangled in her hair, brushing it away from her face, but nothing he did could bring warmth back to her skin.

She was gone.

And yet, Kyung-jun held her like she was still there.

His forehead pressed against hers, his breath shaking as he shut his eyes tightly, willing the moment to freeze in place. If he just stayed like this, if he just held her long enough, maybe he could pretend—just for a little while longer—that she wasn't truly gone.

No one was watching him. They were too consumed with the aftermath of Jin-ha's death, too wrapped up in their own horror to notice the way Kyung-jun clung to Minji's lifeless body like she was the only thing tethering him to the world.

He never got to say goodbye.

He never got to save her.

Now, all he could do was hold onto what little was left.

He inhaled sharply, his body trembling as his grip tightened.

"Minji..." His voice was barely a whisper, hoarse, raw. "What am I supposed to do now?"

There was no answer. There would never be an answer.

Kyung-jun had lost the only thing that had ever truly mattered.

And now—he had nothing left to lose.

Kyung-jun stared at the dark screen of his phone, his reflection barely visible against the black void. It felt fitting.

Empty.

Just like him.

His breath shuddered as he looked down at Minji's face, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. She looked so peaceful, as if she were merely asleep, as if she could wake up at any moment and scold him for being so dramatic.

But she wouldn't.

His throat tightened, a strangled sob escaping before he could stop it. His grip on her grew desperate, almost painful, as if holding her tighter could somehow bring her back.

"It should've been me."

The words came out broken, barely above a whisper, but they carried the full weight of his torment.

Why wasn't it him?

Why was he still breathing when she wasn't?

If he had just done more—if he had protected her better—if he had been the one to take her place...

A fresh wave of agony tore through him, and his body shook violently as he buried his face into her shoulder.

"Please," he begged, his voice raw, muffled against the fabric of her clothes. "Please, come back. Just wake up—just for a second—I'll do anything—"

But the only response was silence.

Unbearable. Suffocating.

The sound of his own choked sobs filled the space between them, but it would never reach her.

She was gone.

And he was still here.

Kyung-jun pulled back, his fingers trailing over her face as tears dripped onto her cold skin. He had never cried like this before—never felt a pain so deep, so irreversible.

"I can't do this without you, Minji."

His voice cracked, his vision blurred, his entire body trembling under the crushing weight of grief.

If he could trade places with her, he would.

If he could give up every breath left in his body to bring her back, he wouldn't hesitate.

But reality was merciless.

And it left him here, alone, drowning in the unbearable truth that the only person who had ever truly mattered was never coming back.

The voice echoed through the underground space, confirming what they already knew—another life had been taken. But for most of them, the real shock was just beginning.

"What the hell—?" Yeon-woo's voice wavered as his eyes landed on Seungbin. His face paled, and he instinctively took a step back. "Why the fuck is there blood on your shirt?"

Seungbin stiffened. "What?"

"Your shirt," Eun-chan repeated, his gaze sharp. "There's blood on it."

The tension thickened instantly, the air buzzing with suspicion. The others turned to look, their eyes locking onto the dark red stains smeared across Seungbin's clothing.

Kyung-jun stayed silent, watching with cold detachment as the trap he and Jun-hee had set the night before slowly began to take effect.

Seungbin glanced down at himself, his brows furrowing. His hands curled into fists, trying to recall how the hell it got there—but his mind was blank. "I— I don't know how—"

Yeon-woo's face twisted with anger. "You don't know?" His voice was sharp, accusing. "Are you fucking kidding me? Jin-ah was murdered, and you just happen to have blood on you?!"

"It's not— I didn't do it!" Seungbin snapped, frustration rising in his voice. "I don't even remember how it got there!"

"Convenient." Eun-chan scoffed. "That's exactly what a killer would say."

"I didn't fucking kill him!" Seungbin's voice cracked, his composure starting to slip. "I swear—"

Jun-hee, standing beside Kyung-jun, crossed his arms. "If you didn't do it, then who did?" His tone was calm—too calm, perfectly feeding into the doubt and paranoia already spreading through the group.

Seungbin's mouth opened and closed, unable to find an answer.

Kyung-jun finally spoke, his voice cold and emotionless. "If you have no proof of your innocence, then what do you expect us to believe?"

Seungbin turned to him, desperate. "Kyung-jun, you know I wouldn't—"

Kyung-jun met his gaze, his face blank, his expression unreadable. "Do I?"

That was all it took.

The room turned against him.