The tires of the sleek sedan shrieked against polished concrete as it descended into the mall's underground parking.

It was far too quiet for a Friday night.

The security booth stood empty, a ghost station under flickering fluorescent lights.

A woman stepped out of the car.

*Beep. Beep. *

The sound of the lock echoed through the hollow space.

She began to hum, light and careless, her heels clicking in rhythm as she walked.

Then—

*Squelch*

The rhythm broke.

She froze.

A sticky, dark warmth bloomed over the toe of her designer pump.

"Ayi, shi..." she hissed, bending down to wipe it away.

Her fingers came back stained deep crimson.

Her breath caught.

Her eyes followed the trail a thick, sluggish river of red, crawling out from behind a concrete pillar.

A hand lay there.

Pale.
Still.

For one terrible second, her lungs forgot how to breathe.

Then—

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Her scream ripped through the basement, shattering the silence.

Thirty stories above the city, the world was silent for a very different reason.

A "DO NOT DISTURB" sign hung on the door of the Royal Suite at the Grand Seoul Hotel.

Inside, Yoo-Rim slowly swirled a glass of vintage Cabernet. The red liquid caught the chandelier's golden glow.

The bathroom door creaked open, releasing a cloud of steam.

Eunwoo stepped out, a white towel slung low on his hips, water droplets tracing down his chest.

"Oh..." Yoo-Rim purred.
"Eunwoo."

"My Baby," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

She set her glass down and rose, silk robe trailing behind her. Her arms slid around his neck, pulling him close perfume and wine wrapping around him.

"It's been a month," she murmured. "Do you know how long that feels?"

"I'm here now."

He lifted her effortlessly.

Yoo-Rim giggled bright, carefree, untouched by the world below.

The basement was no longer silent.

Police radios crackled.
Cameras flashed.
Boots thundered against concrete.

"Move! Clear the way!"

Paramedics pushed a gurney toward the ambulance. A yellow sheet covered the jagged outline beneath the body of a man who had run out of time.

Detective Jeon ducked under the caution tape, snapping on latex gloves.

Young. Sharp.
And already feared for what he noticed.

"Did you secure the CCTV?" he asked.
"Where's forensics?"

"They're working on it, sir!"

Jeon didn't look back.

He stepped into the center of the crime scene, standing exactly where the body had fallen.

Then he looked up.

A small, domed CCTV camera watched silently from the corner of a support beam.

"Clear the crowd," Jeon ordered.
"Lock down every exit to this parking slot. Now."

The security office was cramped, dim, and reeked of sweat and fear.

"Fast-forward to 21:00," Jeon said calmly.

The footage flickered.

A man exited his car, eyes glued to his phone.

Then—

A woman entered the frame.

She walked with an eerie grace, cutting directly in front of him.

A few words were exchanged.

Suddenly—

A punch to the stomach.

The man doubled over.

The woman drew a knife.

Not hesitation.
Not panic.

Precision.

She grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and drove the blade across his throat with brutal force.

As he collapsed, she didn't run.

She turned.

She looked straight into the camera.

And smiled.

Cold.
Perfect.

Then she walked away.

The junior officer gasped.

"Sir... that's not possible. That's—"
His voice cracked.
"Isn't that the actress? Yoo-Rim?"

Detective Jeon stared at the frozen frame.