★YUNA★
"Jesus Christ, Kang Yuna! How the hell did this happen?" Gi-hun shouts as soon as he reaches the address I gave him.
I hadn't moved an inch since the call. Too fucking scared. My legs felt glued to the ground, my thoughts spiraling out of control.
"Your DNA is on his body! Your knife is still in his neck, for crying out loud!" He sighs heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. His frustration radiates off him like heat waves.
"He... he tried to rape me," I mumble, barely audible.
"Eh?" He leans closer, his face scrunched in confusion.
"He tried to rape me!" I yell this time, the words coming out shaky and loud. "He said I was pretty. That my mouth would look good on his... on his cock. He was going to force me, Gi-hun! I didn't mean to kill him!" My voice cracks, and a tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away before it has a chance to fall further.
Gi-hun's gaze softens for a moment before he exhales a sharp, loud sigh. "Shit. Shit!" He throws a curse into the air. "Look at all this blood. If we leave it, it'll come back to us. We need to take care of the body."
I bite my lip, saying nothing. Anything I add now will only piss him off more.
Gi-hun pulls out his phone and dials someone. Whoever it is picks up immediately. His tone changes, brisk and all business. From what I can gather, it's some kind of cleaning agency—people who handle messes like this.
---
Within twenty minutes, two men in black arrive. Both are masked, their eyes cold and calculating. One carries a duffel bag, the other has a portable wet vacuum and several bottles of cleaning chemicals. Gi-hun nods at them, and they get to work like clockwork.
I stand frozen, unable to tear my eyes away as they work. One of them wraps the body tightly in a thick plastic sheet, securing it with precision. The other sprays chemicals onto the bloodstained asphalt, scrubbing until the ground looks as though nothing ever happened.
But the faint, metallic tang of blood lingers in the air. It makes my stomach churn.
"Yuna," Gi-hun's voice cuts through the haze. It's firm, not unkind. "Do you still have the knife?"
I blink, my brain catching up with his words. Slowly, I nod. "Y-yeah... it's... it's still in his neck."
Gi-hun mutters a curse under his breath, signaling one of the cleaners. The man carefully extracts the knife, wiping it clean before sealing it in a small evidence bag. He hands it to Gi-hun, who shoves it into his jacket pocket.
"This needs to be destroyed. Burned. No prints, no evidence. I'll do it." His tone leaves no room for argument.
I nod again, my throat too dry to speak. My hands tremble uncontrollably, and I doubt I can keep standing much longer.
When the cleaners finish, one of them nods at Gi-hun, who hands them a thick envelope of cash. "We were never here," one of them says flatly before they disappear into the shadows, leaving no trace behind.
---
After Gi-hun spends ten minutes reprimanding me, he finally escorts me home. He doesn't bother staying for a drink, just leaves as soon as we get there.
My hands are still shaking as I step into the house. First, I check Grandpa's room. He's asleep, his frail chest rising and falling steadily. Relief washes over me. I quietly shut the door and head to my room, shedding my bloodstained hoodie and leaving myself in just shorts and a black bra.
My eyes drop to the scar on my lower torso—a bullet wound. A grim reminder of the life I lead.
I strip off completely, step into the bathroom, and let the cold water wash away the grime, the blood, and a bit of the guilt. But not all of it.
After my shower, I send Hera a quick text:
Yuna: I'll be in class tomorrow.
I plug my phone in to charge and flop onto my bed. My hands still shake as I replay the events over and over in my mind.
I did the right thing. He was a waste of space. A predator. He would've ruined another girl's life if I hadn't stopped him.
"Don't overthink it," I whisper to myself. "I did the right thing."
With that mantra echoing in my head, I finally drift into restless sleep.
★
The soft knock at my door pulls me from the haze of sleep. Not that I was dreaming—my mind hasn't allowed me that luxury in years.
Morning light filters through the cracks in my window. I groggily walk to the door, rubbing my eyes, and open it to find Mrs. Lee standing there with her ever-present radiant smile.
"Ajumma," I greet, my voice hoarse with sleep.
"Jagiya, are you just waking up?" she asks cheerfully. Her smile could've warmed the coldest soul, though mine feels too dark to let it in. "I brought bungeoppang for you and your grandpa." She opens the plastic bag and hands me one of the fish-shaped pastries.
I take it without hesitation, biting into it immediately. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, but I don't care. Mrs. Lee's cooking is always perfect.
"Thank you, Ajumma. Let me get ready for class," I say, finishing the pastry in two bites. She assures me she'll feed Grandpa, and I close the door to get dressed.
---
Dressed in a green hoodie and matching shorts, I slip into my Crocs and grab my shoulder bag. When I step out, I find Mrs. Lee crouched beside Grandpa, feeding him gently.
"Morning, Halabeoji. Did you sleep well?" I kiss his cheek softly, running my fingers through his white hair.
His brows furrow, and he narrows his eyes at me as if trying to place my face.
"Who are you again?" he mumbles before his face lights up in recognition. "Ah, Yuna! When will I see my wife again? You've kept me here too long. I want to go back to her."
My throat tightens. I thought I was used to his dementia, but it still stings every time.
"Jagiya," Mrs. Lee interrupts gently. "Go to school, okay? Don't be late. I'll lock the door after you so your grandpa doesn't wander off."
I nod, forcing a smile. "Arasseo."
Kissing Grandpa's cheek one last time, I head out to school.