Yoon Jeonghan had always been the angel the world adored-perfect smile, perfect life. But perfection was a mask, and behind it was a secret darker than anyone knew. Stalking had never been part of the plan. Yet here he was, eyes glued to Choi Seungc...
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The heavy thud resonated through the cold room, a sickening sound that seemed to echo in the interviewer's very soul. His heart pounded in his chest as he snapped his eyes back to the screen, his breath quickening in terror. His mistress, once so vibrant, now lay beneath a crushing weight. Her body was contorted, her limbs twisted in grotesque angles. Blood pooled around her, staining the floor, and her mouth was frozen in a silent scream. Her face, once full of life, was now a horrific mask of terror, eyes wide and unblinking.
The image burned into his mind, and he felt the bile rise in his throat. His stomach churned as he struggled to process what was happening
No..." His voice trembled, but the word felt useless in the air. A mocking laugh filtered through the speaker, the sound sending a cold shiver down his spine.
"You should have stayed out of my business," Seungcheol's voice purred, calm but thick with menace. "You thought you could play with fire and not get burned? Well, now you know. You should have left well enough alone."
The interviewer shook his head, his mind spinning. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, even as the horror began to bleed into his thoughts. His mistress-her body- was still there, crumpled and broken. Her blood was still fresh,staining the concrete floor, and yet the images kept flashing before him, torturing him with their permanence. Seungcheol's words hit harder than the sight of the woman's mangled form.
"Look at her. Look what happens when you don't understand boundaries." Seungcheol's voice was almost soothing, like he was explaining something mundane, but the content was dripping with malicious satisfaction.
The interviewer's hands were shaking uncontrollably, the ropes cutting into his skin as he tried to tear himself free. He gasped for air, his chest tightening as his mind began to spiral into chaos. His breaths came in short, frantic bursts, but the overwhelming pressure in his head only intensified.
Before he could gather his thoughts, a sharp, cold sting hit the back of his neck. He gasped, but there was no time to react. The needle went in deep, injecting a cold, burning liquid that spread quickly through his bloodstream. His head swam, his vision blurring as the drug sank into his system. A wave of nausea crashed over him, and his thoughts began to fragment into pieces-ripping apart like fragile paper caught in a storm.
His body felt as though it was being pulled in every direction. His vision shifted erratically-colors distorted, sounds warped, the walls seemed to close in on him. The room was no longer just a room; it was a prison, his senses betraying him.
Seungcheol's voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, his words like daggers in the interviewer's mind.
"You see," Seungcheol's voice was smooth, almost kind, "I don't need to kill you to make you suffer. I just need to make you remember this. Over and over again. In your head."
