SEQUEL OF MANIAC
"I just wanted to protect you..... But the biggest threat was me only...."
"I will wait Seokmin... If you are willing to grow.."
"I don't deserve you Bluebell.."
"Yes.. You don't.. But... You will."
Top Seokmin
Bottom Jisoo
One quiet afternoon, Wonwoo and Mingyu sat in the hospital’s conference room, preparing for their call with Jihoon. The air between them was heavy, the weight of Seokmin’s case pressing down on them. Minghao’s advice to dig deeper had led them to this moment, and they both knew this conversation could open doors—or reveal truths too heavy to bear.
When the call connected, Jihoon’s face appeared on the screen. His expression was tight, his eyes guarded. "Dr. Jeon, Dr. Mingyu," he greeted, his tone polite but strained. "You said you needed to talk about Seokmin."
"Yes," Wonwoo replied, his voice calm but firm. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Jihoon. We’re trying to understand Seokmin’s condition better, and to do that, we need to know about his past. Anything you can tell us could help."
Jihoon hesitated, his gaze flickering to something off-screen. "What exactly do you want to know?"
Mingyu leaned forward slightly, his tone gentler. "We’ve noticed that a lot of Seokmin’s behavior—his guilt, his outbursts—seems tied to his view of love and control. We need to understand where that stems from. Was there something specific in his past that made him associate love with... control or dominance?"
Jihoon’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching in his lap. He exhaled slowly, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. "It’s not easy to talk about," he admitted. "But if it helps him, I’ll try."
There was a pause before Jihoon began. "It started when he was sixteen. That’s when he... when he became obsessed with Jisoo." His voice trembled slightly, but he pressed on. "At first, it seemed harmless—just a crush, you know? But it wasn’t. It was darker than that. He started following Jisoo everywhere. Watching him. Taking pictures. Collecting things that belonged to him, like some kind of trophy."
Mingyu’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed quiet, letting Jihoon continue.
"At some point, he convinced himself that his obsession was love," Jihoon said bitterly. "But I didn't know when things turned ugly. I was busy in my own married life to sense that something was stirring foul."
Wonwoo’s pen moved steadily across his notebook. "Ugly how?" he asked, his tone measured.
Jihoon’s voice dropped, his words laced with guilt. "He started controlling him. Manipulating him. Seokmin convinced Jisoo that no one else would ever love him like he did. And when that didn’t work, he started hurting him. Physically, emotionally. He said it was his way of showing love, that love was supposed to hurt."
Mingyu’s fists clenched, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a rare flash of anger. "That’s not love," he said quietly, his voice trembling. "That’s abuse."
"I know," Jihoon said sharply, his guilt palpable. "But Seokmin didn’t. He was so twisted by his own idea of love that he thought he was doing the right thing. And the worst part is, I didn’t stop him. I saw the signs, and I didn’t stop him."
Wonwoo’s voice remained steady, though his gaze was piercing. "Why do you think Seokmin equated love with control? Was there something in his life—someone—that taught him that?"
At this, Jihoon froze. His expression changed, becoming more closed off. He looked down, his jaw working as though he was trying to suppress something.
"Jihoon?" Wonwoo prompted gently.
"I..." Jihoon began, but his voice faltered. He looked away, clearly conflicted. "I don’t know," he said finally, his tone clipped.
Wonwoo’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. "Are you sure? Jihoon, if there’s something you’re not telling us, it could be crucial to understanding Seokmin’s behavior."
Jihoon’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence speaking louder than any words could.
Mingyu leaned closer to the screen, his voice softer now. "Jihoon, we’re not here to judge. We’re here to help. But we need the full picture. If there’s something you know, please... tell us."
Jihoon’s hands trembled slightly, his body tense. After a long pause, he shook his head. "I’ve told you everything I can," he said quietly. "I’m sorry, but I can’t say more."
Wonwoo exchanged a glance with Mingyu, both men clearly unsettled by Jihoon’s evasiveness. "Thank you for your time, Jihoon," Wonwoo said finally, his voice calm but firm. "If you think of anything else—anything at all—please let us know."
Jihoon nodded stiffly, avoiding their gazes. "I will. Goodbye."
As the screen went dark, Mingyu exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. "He’s hiding something," he said bluntly.
"Yes," Wonwoo agreed, his tone thoughtful. "And whatever it is, it’s significant. It might even be the key to understanding why Seokmin spiraled the way he did."
Mingyu frowned, his brows furrowed. "What do we do now?"
Wonwoo’s gaze hardened, his determination evident. "We keep digging. If Jihoon won’t tell us, maybe someone else will."
Mingyu nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "I just hope we’re not too late to help him."
Wonwoo’s voice softened, but his resolve didn’t waver. "We can’t think like that. Seokmin still has a chance, and we’re going to do everything we can to give it to him."
