Haneul took a step forward, his hand tightening around the iron rod still hidden beneath his coat. His voice dropped into a low growl, the weight of years of guilt and rage thickening every word. "This ends tonight."
The mocking light in Hyeonjae's eyes flared. "Oh, I agree." Without warning, he shoved Taejun behind him and stepped forward himself, closing the distance in a blink.
His hand flashed out, striking Haneul's face with a slow, deliberate slap that stung far worse for its restraint.
The sound echoed, sharp and obscene in the quiet. "You think you're saving him?" he whispered, leaning closer, his breath cold against Haneul's cheek. "You're the reason he's here."
Haneul's vision pulsed red as every fiber in his body screamed to retaliate.
His hand shot out, grabbing Hyeonjae by the collar and slamming him back against the crumbling wall, dust billowing into the air. Hyeonjae merely grinned through it, even as his head snapped back from the force.
"I said," Haneul snarled through clenched teeth, "let. him. go."
But Hyeonjae's laughter returned, soft at first, then rising, a sound that felt like a hand twisting inside Haneul's chest. "You'll never take him back. You were too late then. You're too late now."
And then, as Haneul's grip tightened, the house itself seemed to groan again around them, not as a haunted thing, but as a cage closing in, and Taejun, frozen in place, looked between them with wide, terrified eyes, his voice trembling as it finally broke free from his throat.
"Stop…"
Haneul's breath caught as Taejun's small voice fractured the moment, but Hyeonjae's smile only deepened.
The tension snapped like a cord pulled too tight. And Haneul struck.
His fist drove forward, connecting with Hyeonjae's jaw, the impact sending the man staggering sideways into the broken remains of a dresser.
Shards of splintered wood exploded outward as Hyeonjae crashed into it, but even as he stumbled, his laughter continued, a rasping, breathless sound that clung to the air like smoke refusing to dissipate.
Haneul stood there, chest heaving, hands shaking, eyes wild, and the iron rod in his grip beginning to hum faintly, as if responding to the storm of his fury.
But it wasn't over.
Haneul's breath tore through his throat in ragged gasps, each exhale a burst of heat rising against the chill that slithered through the broken seams of the house.
His knuckles ached from the impact, the skin split open, warm blood threading its way down his fingers and dripping onto the warped floorboards beneath him.
Yet the pain was nothing but a distant drumbeat beneath the tidal wave of fury that surged through his veins, demanding more, demanding finality.
Across the room, Hyeonjae straightened slowly, his head tilting as his neck gave a sickening crack.
Blood smeared the corner of his mouth where Haneul's fist had landed, but his grin persisted, wide and gleaming, eyes burning with that sick satisfaction, as though every drop of pain only deepened his pleasure.
Dust swirled around him, disturbed by their violence, catching the pale light and spinning like ash in the air between them.
"Well," Hyeonjae breathed with a hoarse chuckle, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, "there you are. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to hit." His voice coiled around the room, rich with mockery, as though feeding on the very tension that knotted Haneul's insides.
Haneul stepped forward, his boots heavy against the creaking boards, every movement deliberate and sharp, his posture rigid with the weight of years he'd carried.
The iron rod pulsed faintly in his grip, its carved runes glinting with a subtle glow, almost as if it hungered for release.
His eyes, narrowed to slits, locked onto Hyeonjae with such intensity that even the shadows seemed to recoil from his gaze.
"You think this is a game?" Haneul's voice trembled under the strain of his rage, but each word landed like a blade pressed against flesh. "You dragged him into this. You've poisoned him, just like you poisoned everything."
Hyeonjae gave a lazy shrug, his shoulders rising and falling as though none of it mattered. "Oh, I dragged him?" he echoed softly, savoring the word as if tasting it. "I did nothing that you didn't invite. You made the hole, Haneul. I merely filled it."
As he spoke, Taejun stood paralyzed between them, his small frame trembling, eyes wide with the kind of terror that sinks its claws beneath the skin and lingers long after the danger has passed.
Taejun's lips parted, but no words came; his voice was trapped somewhere deep, suffocated by fear and confusion.
Haneul glanced briefly at Taejun, just a flicker of the eyes, but even that was enough for Hyeonjae to catch. The predator's grin widened, his teeth flashing beneath the dim light.
"Ah," Hyeonjae whispered, stepping closer, his tone silkier now, dripping with venomous sweetness. "You still trying to save him. Still trying to convince yourself you're the good one. But tell me, Haneul, did you tell him about the night you left Jihoon behind? Did you tell him how you ran while his twin begged you to come back?"
A tremor rippled through Haneul's chest, but he kept his stance, gripping the rod tighter, knuckles whitening.
His jaw clenched as though locking back the scream that threatened to rip free. "Don't," he growled. "Don't you dare speak his name again."
"Why not?" Hyeonjae hissed, his voice rising into a cold, merciless crescendo. "He deserves to be remembered. They both do. But you— you pretend the past is buried. You think you can patch the cracks by hiding him away. But the cracks are still there, aren't they? You feel them every time you look at him."
He gestured toward Taejun, who shrank under the weight of his words. "You see the same face, don't you? The same eyes. The same voice calling for you that night. You never saved either of them."
Haneul's breath came in sharp bursts now, every muscle in his body drawn taut, as though his very skin struggled to contain the fury threatening to tear him apart. "You're lying."
Hyeonjae took another step forward, voice sinking into a rasp. "No, Haneul. You're lying. To yourself. You always have. But lies don't work in here."
And with that, the tension finally snapped. Haneul charged.
With a roar that tore from his throat like a wounded animal driven beyond the edge of restraint, he sprinted across the ruined room, every footfall rattling the bones of the house beneath him.
The iron rod came up, humming in his grip, its markings flaring brighter as though feeding on his rage.
His veins stood out along his neck and arms like cords ready to burst, his heartbeat deafening in his ears.
But Hyeonjae was faster.
At the last moment, he slipped aside with a predator's grace, spinning away from the thrust of the rod as it sliced through empty air, splintering a wooden beam behind him.
The blow sent a shudder through the structure, dust cascading from above like falling ash. But Haneul was relentless, pivoting immediately, swinging again, the rod slicing another vicious arc aimed directly for Hyeonjae's ribs.
Again, Hyeonjae danced back, laughter spilling from him in sharp, breathless bursts. "Good!" he mocked. "Finally! But it won't change what you are."
The air between them grew hotter, thicker, like the very room pulsed with their hatred.
And still, Taejun stood frozen, his small fists clenched, his chest rising and falling with shallow, desperate breaths, as his protector and his captor clashed before him, two monsters of history, locked in a storm that had been waiting far too long to break.
The air inside the house had thickened into something suffocating, as though the very walls fed off the collision of their wills.
Dust curled in the flickering half-light, spinning and coiling in frantic spirals like the breath of a dying animal.
Every heartbeat echoed against the broken wood and sagging beams, pulsing with the raw, poisonous energy that surged between them.
Haneul didn't hesitate; his fury burned far beyond hesitation now.
He lunged again, the iron rod flashing in a deadly sweep meant to crush Hyeonjae's shoulder, but Hyeonjae weaved beneath it, fluid and quick, his movements almost unnatural, almost too precise, as if the laws of flesh and balance no longer fully governed him.
As Hyeonjae sidestepped, he struck back, not with a fist, but with a sharp slap across Haneul's temple, mocking, almost playful in its cruelty.
The sound of it cracked through the heavy air like a whip, echoing through the hollow corridors.
The impact made Haneul stagger for a breathless moment, not from pain, but from the searing humiliation of the gesture. And then, like oil poured over an open flame, his rage surged higher.
"You never learn," Hyeonjae whispered, circling him, voice slithering along the edges of the room. "All that rage, all that righteousness, and still, you were always too slow."
His hand lashed out again, another slap, this one slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the contact of skin on skin, drawing out the insult like a blade dragging across soft flesh. "Look at you."
The words dripped from his tongue, thick with disdain. "Always late. Always trying to fix what you broke long ago. You're slow!"
Haneul's breath heaved, his jaw locking tight enough to make the muscles along his neck bulge.
He refused to fall, refused to give Hyeonjae the satisfaction of watching him crumble under the weight of his words.
But the trembling in his arms betrayed the battle beneath his skin, the war between endurance and the suffocating guilt that Hyeonjae dragged forth with every word.
Taejun whimpered from the corner, his small voice cracking through the thick atmosphere. "Stop... please..." His knees buckled, and he hugged himself, as if trying to shrink away from the two figures tearing at each other in front of him.
Hyeonjae's head snapped toward Taejun.
That grin returned, wider now, twisted by something far colder. "See? Even he knows how this ends."
He took a step closer to Taejun, his presence pressing down like a stormfront. "The more you fight me, the more you show him who you really are. And deep down, you both know the truth, don't you?"
Haneul's vision narrowed. The house, the air, the broken beams, they dissolved into meaningless fragments behind the sight of Hyeonjae reaching toward Taejun.
The iron rod surged with a faint pulse of light, responding to the surge of reckless, violent desperation erupting inside him.
His boots pounded against the ground, sprinting forward with a roar that tore through his throat and shook the rafters above.
This time, he didn't swing. He drove forward like a battering ram, slamming his shoulder into Hyeonjae's chest with all the force his body could muster.
The collision sent them both crashing backward, smashing into one of the brittle, water-stained walls.
The boards splintered under the weight, shards of wood slicing into their skin, the house groaning as if straining to hold itself together.
Pinned for a moment, Hyeonjae's grin faltered. Haneul's hand clamped around his throat, knuckles bleeding, fingers tightening like a vice.
His face was inches from his enemy's now, breath hot and shaking against Hyeonjae's skin. "You will not take him!" he snarled, voice hollow with the weight of years of regret, of broken promises and unspoken oaths. "Not him. Not again."
Hyeonjae's hands clawed at Haneul's wrist, but he didn't struggle in panic. He laughed, even as the pressure crushed against his windpipe.
His eyes gleamed, half-lidded, lips curling upward with a sinister satisfaction. "And yet... here we are... again." The words rasped out through the narrowing space in his throat, his voice still taunting, still venomous, even as his face flushed from the chokehold. "You'll fail him... like you failed the other."