CHAPTER 53…………………………….
With the hood pulled over their head, their face couldn’t be seen properly. As they came closer to the stairs, Young-in hunched in on herself even more than she already had.
This time, the light coming in through the window illuminated the intruder’s face.
Young-in froze completely, too shocked to move. It was fortunate. If she had screamed, the woman would have found her immediately.
It was Seok Juran.
She was used to seeing Juran all made up and glamorous, so her bare, makeup-less face felt unfamiliar at first, but her features were not ones easily mistaken.
Why on earth was Seok Juran standing there at this hour, holding a knife?
Juran looked back with an irritated expression. If Young-in had remained hidden in the second-floor hallway, she would have been caught for sure. Juran looked around nervously, scanning every inch of the dark hallway. Yet she never once looked up toward the stairs to the third floor.
Young-in guessed why. It must be revulsion.
People don’t even want to look at places they truly detest. Just like how people unconsciously avoid corners of rooms, Juran was avoiding the third floor.
Besides, she probably couldn’t imagine anyone hiding on the third-floor stairs at this hour.
After thoroughly checking near the second-floor stairwell, Juran changed direction. The knife in her hand swung with each step.
Where is she going?
Young-in slowly straightened her crouched upper body. Beyond the railing, Juran was moving farther away.
Should I follow her?
The other person was holding a weapon. If Young-in got caught, something terrible could happen. Whatever Juran was planning to do, if she discovered that the one who saw her was Young-in, she would never let her off.
Young-in’s mind raced. Or perhaps… Juran was actually looking for her.
The only people Juran would expect to find on the mansion’s second floor at this hour were Young-in or Hyeon-ha.
If she intended to harm Young-in, there was something Young-in needed to confirm. Young-in let out a faint laugh without meaning to. The survival instinct rising inside her felt absurd.
She had seen horrors. Her father was gone, and she was alone. She might never escape this place.
Even so, she wanted to survive. She wanted to get out.
She wanted to play the piano outside this mansion.
Her talent felt like a guiding lantern leading her forward.
The piano had chosen her. She could play far better than others—perform so beautifully that everyone would be enchanted. So she had to make it out alive, if only to keep these hands from going to waste.
“Yeong-in, become a world-class pianist and tell everyone it was all thanks to your dad. So your mom can hear it.”
Dad would want that too. Thinking of him made her stomach churn.
Carefully, Young-in tiptoed forward. Enough distance had grown between them, but the long hallway still let her faintly see Juran’s retreating silhouette.
Juran walked while scanning her surroundings erratically. Because of that, Young-in had to stop and hold her breath several times.
Sometimes Juran looked out the window as if checking something. Following her gaze, Young-in peeked as well, then quickly ducked.
Outside in the garden, she saw a dark figure and a flickering light. Someone had come to the mansion with Juran. Probably Kang In-chan. She had wondered if he was still alive, but to guess it like this—she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It didn’t take long for Young-in to realize Juran’s destination.
Seok Juran walked right past Young-in’s bedroom. Not only that, she moved a hallway decoration in front of the bedroom door.
If Young-in had been inside her room, she would be trapped right now.
So the target was Young-in? If she locked her in the room… then what? While Young-in hid under the window to keep her shadow from appearing, Juran continued down the hallway.
Juran stopped in front of Hyeon-ha’s room. The door opened very quietly. Behind the curtain, Young-in could hear her heartbeat pounding against her eardrums.
One foot stepped backward. She considered turning around right there—letting Juran do whatever she was going to do to Hyeon-ha, hiding upstairs on the third floor, and coming down in the morning after everything was over.
But Young-in’s legs moved forward again, as if pulled by invisible strings.
The door was still open. She could walk past without looking if she tried. But Young-in’s eyes slowly drifted inside.
Through the crack, she saw Juran raising the knife. Hyeon-ha was asleep on the bed.
If it were Choi Hyeon-ha, she seemed like the kind of person who’d spring up immediately and block the attack, someone who wouldn’t die even if stabbed—yet the knife came down mercilessly, and Hyeon-ha didn’t move.
There was no time to think.
No complicated calculations. No judgment. Her body simply moved.
If she had had even a moment to think, Young-in might not have moved at all.
The door burst open as she rushed inside.
She shoved Juran’s arm. Juran staggered, and the blade sliced only air. Unlike Hyeon-ha, who never budged no matter how hard you pushed, Juran could be shoved with Young-in’s strength.
Seok Juran stared in shock at whatever had pushed her. But the surprise didn’t last. Sparks flew in her eyes as she turned to Young-in. It looked almost like embers flaring.
“You little—!”
The knife slashed Young-in’s palm.
A burning, searing pain crawled across her skin. The agony made it impossible to retaliate. Instinctively raising her arms to block, Young-in stumbled backward.
“Die!”
Juran shrieked at the top of her lungs, too worked up to care whether Hyeon-ha woke or not.
Her hood fell back, exposing her face completely. It was nothing like a sane person. None of the breath-stealing beauty from their first meeting remained—only a twisted, fiendish face and wild hair that made her look like a lunatic.
The knife plunged deep into Young-in’s chest.
Juran glared, frothing at the mouth. Tendons bulged from her thin neck. Young-in could tell just how hard she had driven the blade.
“Ah…!”
Young-in looked down in disbelief. Blood dripped heavily.
“Hh—hah…”
Panting, she stared at the knife that had pierced through her palm.
Both her hands, pressed against her chest, were skewered onto the knife.
If she’d had even a little less volume to block it, the blade would have reached her heart. The sharp tip was embedded in her chest. A bright red stain spread across her nightgown. Hot blood ran down her wrists.
Juran’s face twisted like a demon. The wound on Young-in’s hand tore wider.
As Young-in cried out, Juran was suddenly hurled aside. She had been holding on so tightly that the knife slid out cleanly.
Choi Hyeon-ha had gotten up and was dragging Juran away. Screaming, Juran flailed until she slammed into the piano.
The piano creaked loudly. The knife clattered to the floor. Staggering, Juran tried to find a way out.
Hyeon-ha grabbed the fallen knife. Juran shrieked like a maniac and scrambled backward, but there was nowhere to run from Choi Hyeon-ha.
Watching the whole scene, Young-in slowly collapsed.
“Choi Hyeon… Choi Hyeon-ha.”
She couldn’t even call loudly. She barely whispered, yet Hyeon-ha somehow heard and turned toward her.
The moment he saw her fallen on the ground, he rushed to her and knelt beside her. Juran seemed to have disappeared completely from his mind.
Young-in clutched his clothes. Her hand left clear marks—soaked red like someone had dipped it in paint. Her skin was slick.
“Call… an ambulance…”
She wasn’t sure she was even speaking properly. It felt like wind was passing through her throat. The smell of blood was overwhelming.
At some point the piano lid had opened, and it clanged—a discordant noise from randomly pressed keys. Juran was pushing herself up by the piano and opening the window. As Young-in watched Juran leap out the window and Hyeon-ha search for his phone, her consciousness slipped away. She didn’t want to fight to stay awake any longer.
She wished it would all end there.
If she woke, even worse nightmares would wait.
That was her final thought.
It was quiet. As she regained consciousness, Young-in thought she would wake in Hyeon-ha’s room. She expected to rise in a place where blood had dried and a window shook loosely. She didn’t feel like she had been asleep—maybe because there had been no nightmares.
To not even feel like she had slept without bad dreams—she mocked herself as she opened her eyes.
A hospital. For a moment she wondered if she had entered one of the mansion’s rooms—because the room was so large. A humidifier puffed out mist. Sunlight came in under the half-drawn blinds.
She understood only the basics of her surroundings. She was lying in a big private room. Her head felt dull, like she was drunk, and her mouth was dry.
“Drink some water.”
Someone beside her handed her a bottle of water with a straw. Young-in fumbled for the straw with her lips and drank. The cold water revived her.
She tried to grab the bottle herself but her hands wouldn’t move properly. She looked down at them.
