The soft hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the hospital hallway as Yuna stepped through the sliding doors, her eyes adjusting to the sterile white interior. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, a scent that brought back memories she wished had stayed buried.
Right behind her walked Haewon, steady and observant, followed closely by Joon-seok and Min-jae. The four of them moved with purpose, but as Yuna approached the front desk, the pace of her steps faltered.
An elderly receptionist looked up from her files, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw Yuna. A warm smile spread across her wrinkled face.
"Yuna… how are you, dear? Have you been eating properly these days?" she asked kindly, her voice soft but familiar, like a grandmother's concern.
Yuna gave a polite smile."Yes, Mrs. Seo. I came here for a patient—just for work."
"Are you talking about that little girl? Mina? Yesterday's hostage?"
Mrs. Seo asked, her tone shifting to a whisper.
Before Yuna could reply, a voice cut through the air, cold and clipped.
"Yeah," Joon-seok said, stepping forward, his sharp gaze fixed on the receptionist.
"Make it quick, Yuna. We don't have all day." His presence leaned in, not threatening—but heavy.
Yuna stammered slightly, caught off guard."W-What's the room number?"
Mrs. Seo turned to her computer and typed quickly. But as her eyes landed on the screen, her fingers paused. Her voice came out slower this time.
"Yuna… it's… Room 402."
Yuna blinked.
"4-402?" she echoed.
And then, silence.
The number echoed in her head like a distant gunshot. Room 402—how long had it been since she'd heard that number? The air around her suddenly felt colder. Her body stiffened, her eyes empty for a flicker of a second. A wave of something—grief? fear?—hit her, but she swallowed it down quickly.
Joon-seok noticed the change. His eyes lingered on her expression—blank, unreadable. But he didn't comment. He didn't ask. He just turned away.
He had a job to do. And right now, that job was to meet the child's father.
Joon-seok was already at the elevator, his coat trailing slightly behind him as he walked with firm steps. Without turning, he gave a small tilt of his head—an unspoken signal for Min-jae to follow.
Yuna lingered for a moment longer, giving Mrs. Seo one last glance.
"I—I'll be back soon, Mrs. Seo."
She tried to smile, but the corners of her lips didn't quite reach her eyes.
Mrs. Seo nodded gently, watching her with concern as Yuna turned away.
Room 402.The number thudded in her mind.
That room wasn't just a room. It was a memory.
Two years ago, her grandmother—her rock, her light—had spent her final months there. Yuna had practically lived by her bedside. Growing up, it was always her grandmother who raised her while her father was out chasing criminals and her mother examined death scenes under microscopes. Yet somehow, life had felt whole back then. Complete.
But once Room 402 took her grandmother in, it never gave her back.
Yuna's chest tightened at the thought.
"Yuna!"
Haewon's voice snapped her back. She stood by the open elevator doors, already holding the button to keep it from closing.
Inside, Joon-seok stood with arms crossed, eyes sharp and cold—glaring.
Yuna swallowed hard. That look said enough:You're late. You're weak. Don't waste my time.
Without a word, she quickly stepped in. Yuna stood beside Joon-seok, a stiff silence draped around them like ice. The elevator's soft mechanical hum was the only sound between them. Joon-seok's arms were crossed, eyes sharp, locked on the elevator doors as they rose floor by floor.
Ding.
The doors opened to the 4th floor.
The group stepped out, footsteps echoing faintly against the hospital's sterile white tiles. Room 402 was just a few steps away.
Min-jae stepped forward and knocked politely.
Before anyone could move, Joon-seok's voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
"You."
His finger pointed to Yuna and said looking at her.
"Stay behind for now."
"But—" Yuna's voice was hesitant.
He turned his face slightly, not bothering to mask the irritation.
"BEHIND. Get it? Behind."
Yuna's throat tightened. Without another word, she dropped her gaze and stepped back, the sting of humiliation settling in her chest.
The door opened a crack. Behind it stood a man—frail, shaken, and clearly terrified. The dark circles under his eyes and the stiffness in his posture screamed panic.
He attempted to push the door shut in reflex.
But Joon-seok moved like a shadow—fast and precise—catching the door with his palm. His tone, though low, carried weight like a loaded gun.
"I hope you don't want to create a scene in front of your lovely daughter, Mina… right, father?"
The man froze, his knuckles white on the doorknob.
Defeated, he stepped back.
Joon-seok didn't smirk. He didn't soften.He just entered.
[End of chapter 3]