The morning air at the military base felt like needles against Seo-yoon's skin. She sat in her office, the small evidence bag containing the blue Aethelon-7 thread—the one she had surreptitiously snipped from Jae-han's cuff—sitting on her desk like a radioactive isotope.
In trading, there is a concept called the Sunk Cost Fallacy: the tendency to continue an endeavor once an investment in money, effort, or time has been made, even if the current costs outweigh the benefits.
Fifteen years. That was Seo-yoon's investment. Fifteen years of believing she was the anchor to a brilliant, fragile soul.
Ring.
"Captain Han. We have a Situation A-1. Sector 7, the old ammunition depot," Lieutenant Park's voice was distorted by static and adrenaline. "It's a 'Military' smile, Captain. You need to see this."
The ammunition depot was a relic of the Cold War—concrete, cold, and smelling of damp gunpowder. When Seo-yoon arrived, the floodlights were already blindingly bright.
Colonel Min was there, his face pale. On the floor, propped up against a crate of decommissioned shells, was Major General Kang—one of the most decorated men in the service, and a man known for his brutal hazing of subordinates.
He was dead. But he was "perfect."
His throat had been opened with the precision of a diamond-tipped blade. But what stopped Seo-yoon's heart was the way he was dressed. He wasn't in his uniform. He was dressed in a high school boy's blazer. A blazer from their school.
And pinned to the lapel was a note, written in the elegant, slanted calligraphy she saw every day on their grocery lists.
"For the witness. Does the truth set you free, or does it just make the cage smaller?"
"Captain?" Park approached her, holding a tablet. "We found something. The killer used a specialized military-grade sedative to paralyze him first. Zolpidem-X. It's only distributed to top-tier military hospitals and... high-ranking surgeons for experimental trauma research."
Seo-yoon felt the walls of the depot closing in. The "Setup" was complete. Jae-han wasn't just killing anymore; he was staging a play where she was the only audience member.
"Captain, your hands are shaking," Colonel Min remarked, his eyes narrowing. "Do you recognize something?"
This was the moment. The "Exit Point." She could hand over the blue thread. She could tell them about the blazer. she could end the trade and accept the loss of her life as she knew it.
But then, her phone vibrated. A text from Jae-han.
"I made your favorite abalone porridge for dinner. Don't be late, jagiya. The world is a dangerous place tonight."
Seo-yoon looked at the dead General, then at the Colonel. Her military training screamed at her to report the evidence. But the fifteen-year investment—the girl who buried a dog with a beautiful, lonely boy—held her throat shut.
"No, Colonel," Seo-yoon said, her voice turning into a cold, hard stone. "I don't recognize anything. But the precision suggests the killer is mocking us. He's trying to lead us toward the medical field to distract us from a tactical perpetrator."
She was lying. To her superior. To her country. She had just made her first illegal trade.
That night, the apartment was warm. The scent of abalone porridge was inviting. Jae-han was sitting at the table, the silver watch she gave him catching the light as he stirred his tea.
Seo-yoon didn't take off her boots. She walked straight to him and slammed the evidence bag with the blue thread onto the table.
"You killed a Major General, Jae-han. In a blazer from our school," she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and terror. "Why? Why now?"
Jae-han didn't look surprised. He didn't even look guilty. He looked... proud. Like a teacher watching a star pupil solve a difficult equation.
"Because you were starting to look at me like a 'resource,' Seo-yoon-ah," he said, standing up. He moved with that terrifying, Johan-esque grace, circling her like a predator. "I wanted to remind you that I am not a resource. I am the market. Everything you have—your career, your 'perfect' marriage, your safety—it all exists because I allow it to."
He stopped behind her, his breath cold against the nape of her neck.
"You didn't show the Colonel the thread, did you?" He chuckled, a sound of pure, dark triumph. "That means you've already chosen. You've crossed the line from soldier to accomplice. How does it feel, Captain? To be a 'Monster' like me?"
Seo-yoon turned around and slapped him. Hard.
Jae-han's head snapped to the side. He stayed like that for a moment, then slowly turned back. A small bead of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He licked it away, his eyes darkening with an intense, twisted affection.
"That's my girl," he whispered. "The only one who can strike the Angel."
He pulled her into a kiss that tasted of salt and betrayal. Seo-yoon fought him for a second, then went limp. She was a soldier who had lost her war. She had doubled down on a losing trade, and now, the only way out was to play his game until the very end.
"I will catch you, Jae-han," she sobbed against his chest. "I will catch you and I will destroy you."
Jae-han held her tight, stroking her hair with those long, lethal fingers. "I know, jagiya. I'm counting on it. That's the only way this story can be a masterpiece."