Minsu's grip on the letters tightened, her breath catching in her throat. The sound of the floor creaking behind her sent ice through her veins. Slowly, she turned her head—dreading what she might see.
The room was dimly lit, the flickering lantern casting shifting shadows across the wooden walls. But there—just beyond the glow—stood a figure.
A tall, shadowed silhouette.
Minsu's heartbeat pounded in her ears. "Who's there?" she whispered, barely able to form the words.
No answer.
The figure didn't move, but she could feel its presence, heavy and suffocating. The air around her seemed to thicken, pressing against her lungs.
Then, in the silence, a voice—low, distorted, almost inhuman—spoke.
"You should not have come back."
Minsu's breath hitched. The same voice from before. But now, it was closer.
She took a slow step back, instinct screaming at her to run. But the moment she moved, the figure twitched—just slightly, but enough to make her freeze.
The letters in her hands rustled as her fingers trembled.
Outside, she heard Hyowon's footsteps approaching. "Minsu?" his voice called, sharp with concern.
The figure remained motionless, but the moment Hyowon's voice broke the silence, something changed.
The presence—dark and suffocating—began to fade, retreating into the shadows. The air lightened. The pressure lifted.
Minsu blinked.
And just like that, the figure was gone.
Hyowon stepped back inside, immediately noticing her pale face. "What happened?"
Minsu swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay steady. "There was… someone here."
Hyowon's eyes darkened, scanning the room. "Are you sure?"
Minsu looked down at the letters in her hands. The ink. The warnings. The feeling that something wanted her gone.
She nodded. "I'm sure."
Hyowon let out a slow breath. "Then we need to figure out who—or what—is trying to stop you. And why."
Minsu stared at the letters, the weight of her aunt's secrets settling heavily on her shoulders.
Whatever was happening, she had already stepped too far into the mystery to turn back now.
Minsu forced herself to breathe steadily, her fingers still gripping the old letters. The house was silent again, but the lingering chill in the air told her that whatever presence had been there—it wasn't truly gone.
Hyowon studied her face, his expression unreadable. "If something—or someone—is trying to keep you away, that means you're close to something important."
Minsu nodded, swallowing the unease in her throat. "Then we have to keep going."
She turned her attention back to the letters, flipping to the next one. The ink had smudged in places, as if her aunt had written in a hurry.
"Minsu, I left because I had no choice. But if you are reading this, I need you to understand something. The truth is not what it seems. The people you trust may not what you think they are. And the man who knows the most… is the one you must be most careful of."
Minsu frowned. "The man who knows the most?"
Hyowon was silent for a moment before speaking. "Could she mean your parents' case? Or… me?"
Minsu looked up at him, startled. "You?"
Hyowon's jaw tensed. "You said it yourself—I was close to your aunt. Maybe she's warning you about me."
Minsu studied him carefully. The warm glow of the lantern softened his features, but in his dark eyes, there was something unreadable. A quiet, guarded edge.
Could it be true?
No. She shook her head. Hyowon had been the only person willing to help her, the one who had guided her through this mystery from the beginning. Her aunt's words were a warning, but they weren't enough to turn her against him.
She met his gaze. "If my aunt thought you were dangerous, why would she leave these letters where you could find them too?"
Hyowon exhaled slowly, then smirked—just slightly. "Good point."
Minsu looked back at the letter, but before she could read more, another noise echoed from outside—a rustling sound, like footsteps in the grass.
Hyowon moved first, stepping toward the door. Minsu followed, her heart pounding.
They stepped out into the night. The village lay quiet under the moonlight, but just beyond the garden gate, a figure stood in the darkness.
A man.
He didn't move, didn't speak. But even from a distance, Minsu felt it—an eerie familiarity.
Then, the man took one step forward. The dim light of the lantern caught his face.
Minsu's breath caught in her throat.
She knew him.