ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
Mi-hee’s mother’s hands trembled as she fumbled with her phone, her breath coming out in short, panicked gasps. Her heart pounded so violently that she could barely hear anything else over the sheer terror clawing at her chest. The hospital room was a mess of hurried nurses, flashing monitors, and her own voice screaming Mi-hee’s name.
Where was her daughter?
With shaking fingers, she pressed the contact she never thought she’d call in a moment like this—Kim Rian.
The phone barely rang once before he answered, his voice tight, as if he had been waiting for this call.
"Ma'am?"
Mi-hee’s mother let out a broken sob, her breath hitching. "Rian… she—she’s gone. Mi-hee is—"
Her voice cracked. She couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence. The words felt like knives against her throat.
There was silence on the other end for a beat, and then—"What?"
Before she could respond, a firm hand took the phone from her. Kang Ha.
"Mi-hee is missing," Kang Ha said, his voice sharper, more controlled despite the panic lacing his words. "We don’t know if she’s—"
But Rian stopped listening.
His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the phone so hard it could’ve cracked.
Missing.
Mi-hee was missing.
His heart plummeted, a pit of dread opening in his stomach and swallowing him whole.
His mind raced, flashes of her fragile form in that hospital bed, the memory of her cold hand in his, the way he had whispered to her just days ago, promising to finish what she started.
And now she was gone?
A violent rush of anger and fear took over him.
He didn’t think.
He didn’t stop.
He ripped off the ankle monitor strapped to his leg, alarms blaring instantly in response, but he didn’t care. The guards stationed outside his house yelled after him as he bolted, but their voices were nothing but static in his ears.
He needed to get to her.
Now.
𓍼
A sharp, sterile scent invaded Mi-hee’s senses as she stirred awake. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body sluggish as she blinked against the dim light of the hospital room. The beeping of machines filled the silence, a dull rhythm echoing in her ears.
For a moment, her mind was blank. Then, like a flood breaking through a dam, memories rushed back—flashes of headlights, the screech of tires, the anonymous voice on the phone, and then—darkness.
Panic gripped her chest as she sat up too quickly, her breath hitching. Where was she? Who brought her here? A friend or a foe? Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs.
She turned her head, expecting to see someone—anyone—but the room was empty. No familiar faces, no voices calling her name. Just the cold hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway beyond.
Mi-hee’s hands instinctively reached for the IV in her arm. Her fingers trembled, but she gritted her teeth and carefully peeled away the tape. She winced as she pulled out the needle, blood beading at the spot before she pressed her sleeve against it.
She had to get out. She needed air.
Her bare feet hit the cold floor as she slipped out of the room, careful not to make a sound. The hallway was dimly lit, eerily quiet except for the occasional murmur of nurses at the far end. She didn’t stop. She walked briskly, her pulse erratic, following the signs until she found a stairwell.
Each step felt heavier than the last as she climbed. Her mind raced with doubts. Hera? Woojin? Yunseok? The school authorities? Even… Rian?
Her stomach twisted at the thought.
Would he go that far? Would he have hurt her to protect his legacy?
No.
But a seed of doubt had already planted itself in her heart, making her feel sick.
She reached the rooftop door, her fingers hesitating on the handle before pushing it open. A gust of icy wind hit her immediately, making her gasp. The night stretched vast and endless before her, the city lights blinking far below.
The rooftop was deserted, just a few chairs pushed to the side and a faint glow from a safety light flickering against the railing. She wrapped her arms around herself, stepping forward until she was near the edge.
Her head spun.
Her body felt… weak.
She hadn’t realized how drained she was until now. Her knees wobbled, and she gripped the railing for support, her breaths uneven. The cold seeped into her skin, and her vision blurred for a second.
Mi-hee shook her head, willing herself to stay upright. But her body had other plans.
A wave of dizziness crashed over her.
She swayed.
Her foot slipped.
The world tilted.
And then ──
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ
YOU ARE READING
DISGRACE ──── ʰⁱᵉʳᵃʳᶜʰʸ ✔️
ספרות חובבים❝ 𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅, "𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕", 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 ❞
