The night air clung to Ji-hoon's skin, cold and damp, as he stepped into the quiet hallway, the echo of his footsteps muffled by the thick silence that seemed to hang around him like a heavy curtain. His senses felt sharpened, every nerve alive with the anticipation of what was to come. He could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him—the choices, the consequences, the darkness closing in around him.
He had done it. He had set the trap. And now there was no turning back.
The backstage area was eerily quiet. The hum of distant conversations and the soft rustling of clothing were the only sounds that broke the silence. Ji-hoon's fingers brushed against the walls as he walked, the coolness of the concrete grounding him, but the anxiety gnawed at his insides. He could feel it, a prickling awareness that something was wrong, that everything was about to unravel.
The door to Si-wan's dressing room was ajar, and for a moment, Ji-hoon just stood there, watching. His heart thudded in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He hadn't expected it to feel like this. He had thought he would be calm, calculated, that his mind would stay sharp, but now, with the moment finally here, everything felt uncertain. Every breath he took felt heavy, as if the very air around him was thickening, pressing down on him.
Si-wan wasn't in the room yet, but Ji-hoon could hear his voice, distant but unmistakable. The anger in Si-wan's tone was clear, sharp like a knife, cutting through the air even from behind the closed door. Ji-hoon could feel the tension building, a storm ready to break.
He didn't have much time.
There was no room for mistakes, no room for second thoughts. He had already come this far, and he knew, deep down, that there was no other choice. He had already set everything in motion, and now he was the one who had to finish it.
As he took another step forward, the door creaked open, the sound almost too loud in the heavy silence. He froze, eyes wide, and his heart skipped a beat as he watched Si-wan step into the room. The other man's gaze flickered toward him, cold and calculating, as if he had been expecting this, as if he knew that Ji-hoon would eventually find his way here.
Si-wan didn't speak at first. His expression was a mask of indifference, his face a study in calm that only served to heighten the tension in the room. Ji-hoon could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, the subtle shifts in his posture that told him everything he needed to know. Si-wan was ready for a fight. He always was.
"I see you've come to finish it," Si-wan said, his voice low and almost conversational. But there was something underneath the words, something dangerous that sent a chill down Ji-hoon's spine. "How poetic."
Ji-hoon didn't respond at first. He couldn't. Words failed him. What could he say? How could he explain what he had done, what he had become, just to survive? How could he tell Si-wan that this—this moment—wasn't just about revenge or justice, but about something deeper? Something that went beyond all the pain and hatred. It was about control. It was about reclaiming his life, his agency, from the person who had taken everything from him.
Si-wan took a step forward, and Ji-hoon's instincts flared. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing the cold surface of the vial. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a thousand bricks. But he didn't hesitate. He couldn't.
"Do you think this will change anything, Ji-hoon?" Si-wan asked, his voice sharp now, the amusement gone. "Do you think you can stop me?" His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, and Ji-hoon could almost taste the venom in his words. "You've already lost."
The words stung, but Ji-hoon didn't let them reach him. He had heard it all before, the taunts, the threats. They had always been Si-wan's game. But now, Ji-hoon was the one who held the cards.
"I don't need to stop you," Ji-hoon said quietly, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind. "I just need to survive."
He could see the flicker of uncertainty in Si-wan's eyes, the briefest moment where the façade cracked, and for just an instant, he saw a glimpse of the fear that lay beneath all the bravado. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to let Ji-hoon know that he had the upper hand, even if only for a moment.
But Si-wan quickly recovered, his mask of indifference falling back into place. He tilted his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Survive? Is that really what you think you're doing, Ji-hoon? Running away, hiding in the shadows?"
Ji-hoon felt his anger rise, but he forced it down, focusing instead on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to lose control now. Not when everything had led to this moment.
"I'm not running," Ji-hoon said, his voice cold. "I'm finishing this. Once and for all."
Si-wan's eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Then, in a swift movement, he lunged forward.
Ji-hoon's heart slammed against his ribcage, his pulse quickening as he barely managed to step back in time. His body screamed at him to move, but his legs felt like they were made of stone. Si-wan's hands reached for him, the strength in his grip like iron, but Ji-hoon was ready. He swung the vial in his hand, the dropper releasing a single drop into the glass of water. The seconds felt like hours as he watched it dissolve, the moment stretching out like an eternity.
Si-wan's eyes flickered toward the glass, confusion momentarily flashing across his face. Before he could react, Ji-hoon shoved the glass into his hands.
"Drink," Ji-hoon commanded, his voice steady but low.
Si-wan hesitated for a fraction of a second, and in that second, Ji-hoon saw the doubt flicker behind his eyes. Then, as if forced by an invisible hand, Si-wan lifted the glass to his lips. He drank.
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Ji-hoon watched, his breath caught in his throat, as Si-wan slowly lowered the glass. His expression twisted for a moment, a flicker of discomfort passing over his face before it was replaced by a scowl.
"You think this is enough?" Si-wan spat. "You think this will stop me?"
But Ji-hoon could already see it—could already feel it—something changing in Si-wan's eyes. The rage was slowly turning to confusion, to disbelief, and Ji-hoon knew that he had done it. The trap had been set. And Si-wan was already too far gone to escape.
It was too late to run now.
Si-wan staggered backward, his hand trembling slightly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The scowl on his face was quickly replaced by a look of panic, though he tried to mask it. His eyes darted around the room, almost as if searching for a way out, but there was nowhere left to go. He was trapped, and Ji-hoon had done it. He had set the trap, and now Si-wan had walked straight into it.
"Wh-what did you do?" Si-wan's voice cracked, and there was a flicker of something unrecognizable in his usually controlled demeanor. His usual arrogance seemed to slip away, replaced by something raw, something vulnerable.
Ji-hoon's heart raced in his chest, every beat thundering in his ears. He had done this. He had poisoned Si-wan, and as much as it should have felt like victory, there was no triumph in it. Just a hollow emptiness that settled deep in his bones. He had thought that once Si-wan was gone, once the man who had tormented him for so long was removed, he would feel relief, but all he felt was the cold weight of regret.
"I'm sorry," Ji-hoon whispered, though the words were hollow, as if the air had sucked the meaning from them. He wasn't sure if he was apologizing to Si-wan, to himself, or to the world for everything that had led to this. But the truth was undeniable: this was the moment he had been preparing for. The moment he had expected to feel a sense of closure. But the silence that surrounded him now only echoed with emptiness.
Si-wan's eyes widened, his pupils dilating, his breath shallow as he leaned against the wall, his hand pressed to his chest. The first signs of the poison's effects were already beginning to show—his face was pale, his lips tinged with a faint blue. It was slow, agonizingly so, but Ji-hoon could see the panic begin to spread in the other man's eyes. Si-wan had always been in control, always been the one who manipulated others, who dictated the terms of every situation. But now, as he fought for breath, it was clear that the power had shifted, and Ji-hoon was the one holding the reins.
"Why?" Si-wan gasped, his voice shaking as the words left his lips. There was something almost pitiful about the question, something that broke through Ji-hoon's wall of indifference. He had always known Si-wan was dangerous, but he had never expected to see him like this—weak, vulnerable, and afraid.
"Because you took everything from me," Ji-hoon replied, his voice steadier than he felt. The anger that had been building inside him for years—no, for a lifetime—finally erupted, and he took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides. "You killed my mother, you ruined my life, and you destroyed everything I ever cared about. And I couldn't let you keep getting away with it."
Si-wan's lips parted in a painful, raspy breath, but there was no defiance in him now. Just fear. "You think this... this will make it right? You think killing me will fix anything?"
Ji-hoon's heart twisted at the words. He didn't know if it would make things right. He didn't know if there was any fixing it. All he knew was that this was the end of the road, the moment he had waited for, and yet he felt nothing but dread and exhaustion.
"I don't care if it fixes anything," Ji-hoon muttered. "I just wanted you to know that you're not the only one who can make people suffer."
Si-wan's breath quickened, his hand clutching the collar of his shirt as if trying to steady himself. The poison was working faster now, his movements becoming more erratic, his body trembling with the effort to stay upright. Ji-hoon could see the struggle in his face—the fear, the panic, the realization that he wasn't in control anymore.
"Please," Si-wan wheezed, his voice strained. "You don't have to do this. We can... we can work together. You don't have to end it like this."
But Ji-hoon could only stare at him, feeling the weight of everything he had lost. His mind flashed to the countless nights he had spent in darkness, the moments he had dreamed of this confrontation, of seeing Si-wan suffer, of being the one to make him pay. And yet now, in the face of Si-wan's desperation, it felt like nothing more than a cruel joke. There would be no closure here. There would be no peace.
"You made your choice a long time ago," Ji-hoon said, his voice low, cold. "And this is the consequence."
Si-wan's body jerked again, and he collapsed to the floor, his hands scrambling to grasp at the edges of the stage, but there was no escape. The poison had already done its work. His vision blurred, and his breathing grew more labored with each passing second. The defiance, the arrogance, was gone, replaced by sheer terror. It was almost pathetic to watch. Almost. But Ji-hoon couldn't find it in himself to feel any sympathy.
A final, strangled breath escaped Si-wan's lips as he collapsed fully onto the floor, his body still.
For a long moment, Ji-hoon stood there, unmoving, his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It was done. Si-wan was dead.
But even as the reality of what he had done settled in, the emptiness inside Ji-hoon deepened. There was no satisfaction in this. No victory. Just the crushing weight of a life ruined, of choices that had led him here.
He stared at the lifeless body of the man who had tormented him for so long, and all he could feel was the heavy, suffocating silence that enveloped him.
What now?
For the first time in years, Ji-hoon wasn't sure.