The last thing I remembered was that girl–Han Seolbi, the one girl among two hundred more who were victims of kidnapping and human trafficking–holding my hand as I bled out. I was shot three times. One bullet in my chest, one in my shoulder and one went through the side of my neck. At least my men are finally here, the girls and Seolbi are getting rushed to safety. Considering all things, my duty as a undercover cop is done.

But dear God, I begged to keep on living. I wanted to save more kids who were involved in such terrible crimes. Besides, I was finally moving on from my late partner's death. My life was getting back on it's tracks, and dying at the age of 34 is too young.

I was silently praying to God before I couldn't resist the drowsiness anymore, before I closed my eyes and stopped breathing. The last thing I heard was Han Seolbi incessant weeping, then, I was gone.

I–Goo Dami–died on a cold December after succeeding the operation to save two hundred kidnapped women who were to be sold as sex slaves. I should've died with a sense of relief, but I died drowned in bitterness because of the fact how short my life was.

I wanted to do more.