The clock on the nightstand ticked past midnight.
Ra-hee lay in bed, drenched in sweat, her breath shallow and erratic. The air was warm but her body shivered violently, as though something inside her had cracked wide open. She had been safe for only two days—but safety was a lie. A fragile illusion.
Jae-hyun hovered nearby, pacing the room like a restless ghost. Every sound she made pulled his attention back to her.
"Ra-hee," he whispered again, kneeling beside her. "Tell me what's happening."
Her lips trembled. "I… I don't know. My hands won't stop shaking. My head—it's like I'm not fully here."
He gently placed his fingers on her pulse. Rapid. Uneven.
She flinched.
It wasn't just fear or trauma.
Something deeper was happening.
"It's the toxin," she finally said, through clenched teeth. "It didn't wear off. It's… it's still inside me."
Jae-hyun's jaw tightened. He picked up her hand—it was ice cold despite the fever. "You said you took the vial I gave you."
"I did. But it only slowed it. Whatever they used… it's not just a nerve agent. It's something more."
She locked eyes with him. Panic swimming in her pupils.
"It's inside my mind, Jae-hyun."
The next morning, Ha-eun insisted on walking.
She managed only a few steps before collapsing against the wall, her knees buckling.
Jae-hyun caught her, cradling her carefully. "You need rest."
"No," she said, breathless. "I need control. If I don't fight this now, I'll lose myself."
They called in an old contact of Jae-hyun's—Min-ji, a rogue pharmacologist who had once created chemical weapons for the government before vanishing underground. She owed Jae-hyun a life debt. When she arrived, the first thing she did was draw Ha-eun's blood and examine her under a portable scanner.
Min-ji's face darkened.
"This isn't a simple neurotoxin," she said. "It's been engineered—genetically modified to bind to brain receptors. Specifically the limbic system."
"The limbic system?" Ha-eun asked weakly.
Min-ji met her eyes. "Your emotions. Your memories. Your ability to distinguish fear from trust, love from hate."
Jae-hyun's face went pale.
"You're saying they injected her with a… mind weapon?"
"Yes. One that waits. It doesn't destroy—it rewires. Slowly. Subtly. The person looks the same, speaks the same—but inside, they begin to doubt the ones they love. To obey voices that shouldn't be there."
Ra-hee's chest clenched.
"What are you saying, Min-ji?" she asked. "That I might hurt Jae-hyun?"
Min-ji didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Jae-hyun stood slowly, his fists tight, rage simmering under the surface. "How do we stop it?"
Min-ji hesitated. "You might not be able to—not completely. There's no antidote. But… I can make something to delay its effects. We'd have to isolate her, keep her away from stress, from conflict—"
"No," Ra-hee interrupted. "I'm not going to hide. Not while people are still dying because of the Crimson Dawn."
"You're not thinking clearly," Jae-hyun said.
"I'm thinking exactly clearly," she shot back. "I'd rather die fighting than slowly turn into something else."
Min-ji nodded grimly. "Then I'll get started. But I'll need time."
Later that night, Ra-hee sat in front of a mirror. Her reflection stared back—tired, thinner, but something else.
Her own eyes felt distant.
She blinked.
For a moment, she saw another version of herself. Smiling. Twisted. Whispers curled at the edge of her mind like smoke.
He doesn't trust you.
He'll lock you away once he sees the truth.
She grabbed the table, nails digging into the wood. "No. Shut up."
A knock at the door.
Jae-hyun.
He entered slowly. "I heard you talking."
"I wasn't," she lied. "I was… thinking."
He sat beside her. "You don't have to pretend with me."
She looked down. "I'm scared, Jae-hyun."
"I know."
"Not just of what's inside me… but what I might do to you."
He reached for her face, cupping her cheek gently. "Even if you lose yourself, I won't lose you. Not ever."
Tears slipped down her face. But somewhere in her chest, the voice laughed.
He says that now. But when the time comes… he'll put a bullet in your head.
She shivered and clung to him.
The following evening, Min-ji returned with a serum.
"Inject once every 24 hours," she instructed. "It won't cure her—but it'll slow the rewriting process. If you miss a dose, she could start slipping."
Jae-hyun nodded.
But Ra-hee stared at the syringe like it was both salvation and surrender.
Days passed.
The city above remained oblivious, but below the surface, blood was being spilled. Three more Crimson Dawn facilities had been destroyed by Jae-hyun's crew, but the enemy kept adapting—growing bolder.
And Ha-eun…
She began to change.
Subtle at first. Forgetting small things. Snapping at Jae-hyun. Doubting the loyalty of his men. Waking up from dreams with dried blood under her nails—though no cuts on her body.
Jae-hyun noticed.
He didn't say anything.
But every night, he stayed awake, watching her chest rise and fall, fearing the moment it might not.
One night, he walked into the safehouse kitchen and found her holding a knife.
Her eyes were blank.
"Ra-hee?" he asked softly.
She looked up.
"Oh," she said, voice flat. "I… I don't remember picking this up."
He walked toward her slowly, arms raised. "It's okay. Just give it to me."
She hesitated.
Then her hand trembled—and she dropped it.
Jae-hyun caught her as she sank to the floor, shaking. "I don't want to be a monster," she whispered. "Not to you."
He held her tightly. "Then don't let them win."
She pressed her forehead to his. "Promise me… if I ever lose control—really lose it… promise you'll stop me."
He went still.
Her voice was shaking. "Promise me, Jae-hyun. Even if it means… killing me."
He couldn't speak.
She gripped his shirt. "Promise."
His voice broke. "I promise."
But the promise tasted like poison on his tongue.
A week later, it happened.
The betrayal.
Or the beginning of it.
They were on a mission—an ambush against a Crimson Dawn transport truck. Ha-eun had insisted on going. She'd begged for a chance to help, to do something good.
Everything was going according to plan.
Until the final moment—when the enemy leader stepped out with a hostage.
And Ra-hee froze.
Her eyes glazed over.
Jae-hyun shouted her name.
But she didn't move.
She just… watched.
And in that hesitation, three of their men were gunned down.
By the time Jae-hyun reached her, the enemy was gone—and she stood in the middle of the chaos, blood on her hands, tears falling silently.
"I—I couldn't move," she said. "My body—it wouldn't listen."
Jae-hyun didn't yell. He didn't scold.
He just pulled her into his arms and held her like a dying prayer.
But later that night, alone in the hallway, he punched a wall until his knuckles bled.
Because he finally understood.
They were losing her.
And they were running out of time.
To Be Continued...