Jae Hyun stood still, his expression unreadable, as he stared at Jiho, who was bathed in blood. His gaze was steady, detached, as if the scene before him was nothing more than a distant event unfolding in front of him. Jiho's eyes flickered to meet his, but there was no reaction from him, no sign of shock or horror.
For a moment, the air between them hung thick with silence. Jiho's blood-soaked form should have provoked something—fear, concern, maybe even anger—but Jae Hyun remained unflinching, his face an emotionless mask. His eyes, cold and distant, registered the blood, the chaos, but none of it seemed to affect him.
Jiho's gaze lingered on him, searching for some sign of recognition, some indication that he cared, but there was nothing. Her breath was shallow, her body tense, but still, Jae Hyun didn't move. He stood as if he were observing from behind a wall, as if the blood that soaked her skin was insignificant, irrelevant.
