Episode 3

The fourth victim was found inside a private villa on the outskirts of the city.

Male.

Thirty-eight.

Wealthy.

Dead for less than six hours.

And once again, there were no signs of violence.

The crime scene felt disturbingly peaceful — soft jazz still playing through hidden speakers, a half-finished drink resting beside the couch, and expensive perfume lingering faintly in the air.

Lee Tae-jun stood silently near the body while investigators moved around him.

“Cause of death is still unclear,” Detective Ryu reported. “But there’s something else.”

He handed Tae-jun a photograph.

The victim was smiling beside Yoo Hae-rin at a charity gala held two months earlier.

Tae-jun’s jaw tightened.

Again.

Always her.

“Where is she now?” he asked coldly.

“At Royal Auction.”

Of course she was.

⸻

Hours later, Tae-jun arrived at the exclusive after-party hosted by Royal Auction House.

Luxury filled every corner of the penthouse ballroom — crystal glasses, dim golden lights, soft music, and people rich enough to hide crimes behind money.

But the moment Hae-rin entered the room—

Everything else disappeared.

She wore a dark red satin dress that hugged her figure elegantly, her black hair falling loosely over one shoulder. Men watched her openly while women whispered behind forced smiles.

She looked untouchable.

And somehow, that only made Tae-jun more suspicious.

Hae-rin noticed him immediately.

“You’re starting to appear everywhere I go,” she said softly as he approached.

“Another man is dead.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Then perhaps you should find the real killer.”

“You knew him.”

“I know many people.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Hae-rin lifted a champagne glass to her lips slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

“You ask questions like you already want me guilty.”

“And you answer like you enjoy the game.”

A faint smile appeared.

“Maybe I enjoy you.”

The words landed harder than they should have.

For a second, Tae-jun forgot the noise around them. Forgot the investigation. Forgot the body waiting at the crime scene.

All he noticed was her voice.

Her eyes.

The dangerous calm surrounding her.

Hae-rin stepped closer until only a small distance remained between them.

“You know what people say about me, Investigator Lee?” she whispered.

“That you ruin every man who gets close to you.”

Her lips curved slightly.

“And yet you keep coming back.”

Tae-jun grabbed her arm before he could stop himself.

The movement was sudden enough to make nearby guests glance toward them.

His voice lowered dangerously.

“If you’re playing with me, Yoo Hae-rin, it’ll end badly for you.”

Instead of fear, amusement flickered across her face.

“And if I’m not playing?”

Their bodies were close enough now for him to feel the warmth of her skin beneath the silk fabric.

Close enough to become a mistake.

Tae-jun knew he should let go.

But he didn’t.

Something about her pulled people in like gravity — beautiful, impossible, destructive.

For the first time in years, Lee Tae-jun felt emotionally off balance.

And Yoo Hae-rin noticed immediately.

That was the truly dangerous part.

⸻

Later that night, Tae-jun returned home exhausted, only to find an unmarked package waiting outside his apartment door.

Inside was a flash drive.

One video file.

No sender.

No message.

His expression darkened as he pressed play.

The screen flickered briefly before revealing security footage recorded inside a hotel hallway weeks earlier.

A man stumbled drunkenly toward his suite.

Behind him—

Yoo Hae-rin appeared on camera.

Alive.

Smiling.

Following the victim into his room only hours before his death.

Rain poured heavily over Seoul, turning the streets outside Royal Auction House into blurred reflections of neon lights and passing headlights.

Across the road, Midnight glowed quietly beneath the storm.

It was the only place Yoo Hae-rin could still breathe without pretending.

The moment she entered the bar, conversations softened.

Some customers stared openly.

Others whispered behind lowered glasses.

Everyone knew her face now.

The woman connected to too many deaths.

Hae-rin ignored the attention and walked toward the private booth near the back of the bar.

Waiting there were the only two people she trusted completely.

Her best friends.

Jung Seo-ah sat comfortably against the leather booth, camera beside him and editing files open on his laptop. As Royal Auction’s event photographer, he spent enough time around Hae-rin to understand the difference between her public mask and the exhausted woman beneath it.

Beside the counter stood Hwang Sook-ji, owner of Midnight. Sharp-tongued, fearless, and fiercely protective of the people she cared about.

Especially Hae-rin.

“You’re late,” Sook-ji said softly while pouring whiskey into a crystal glass.

“Reporters followed me again,” Hae-rin replied, slipping off her coat.

glanced toward the rain-covered windows.

“They’re still outside.”

“Of course they are.”

Hae-rin sat down heavily beside him, exhaustion finally slipping through her elegant composure.

Without a word, Seo-ah gently pulled the whiskey glass away before she could drink too quickly.

“That’s your third one this week,” he muttered.

Hae-rin looked at him tiredly. “You count now?”

“You stop sleeping now.”

Sook-ji smirked faintly.

“You two sound married.”

“We sound stressed,” Seo-ah replied immediately.

But the tension eased slightly after that.

Only around these two could Hae-rin allow herself to look tired.

Human.

For a few quiet minutes, none of them spoke. Rain tapped softly against the windows while jazz music played low in the background.

Then Sook-ji finally asked the question both of them had been avoiding.

“Are you scared?”

Hae-rin stared down at the untouched whiskey for several seconds.

“…I think I’m starting to be.”

The honesty in her voice made both of them go silent.

Because Yoo Hae-rin never admitted fear Seo-ah ‘s expression softened slightly as he leaned back against the booth.

“You know we’re on your side, right?”

Hae-rin looked at him quietly.

Even now, with the city turning against her, they stayed.

That alone terrified her more than loneliness.

“People around me keep dying,” she whispered.

Sook-ji crossed her arms. “And yet somehow you’re still more worried about everyone else.”

“That’s because she blames herself for things she didn’t do,” Seo-ah said quietly.

Hae-rin looked away immediately.

Which was answer enough.

A silence settled between the three best friends—heavy, familiar, honest.

Then suddenly—

Her phone vibrated against the table.

Unknown Number.

Again.

Hae-rin’s fingers froze slightly.

noticed immediately. “Another message?”

She unlocked the screen slowly.

One sentence appeared:

“The investigator will destroy you before I do.”

Sook-ji swore quietly beneath her breath.

Seo-ah‘s jaw tightened instantly.

“This person is escalating,” he muttered.

Before Hae-rin could respond—

The entrance bell rang softly.

And the atmosphere inside Midnight changed immediately.

Standing near the doorway, rainwater dripping slowly from his dark coat, was Lee Tae-jun.

His sharp eyes scanned the room once before landing directly on Hae-rin.

Then Seo-ah sitting beside her.

Then Sook-ji standing protectively nearby.

For one brief second, something unreadable crossed Tae-jun’s face.

Not anger.

Something quieter.

Something dangerously close to jealousy.

Sook-ji noticed instantly and sighed softly under her breath.

“Well,” she murmured, “this night just became worse.

Lee Tae-jun entered Midnight as rain poured over Seoul, confronting Yoo Hae-rin in front of her best friends, Jung Seo -ah and Hwang Sook-ji.

He revealed a silver lighter with Hae-rin’s fingerprints and security footage showing her entering a victim’s hotel suite—followed by an unknown man.

For the first time, Hae-rin realized someone had been watching her without her knowledge.

Outside, across the rain-soaked street, a mysterious man under a black umbrella observed them… until the lights flickered—and he disappeared.

They all left confused and disturbed, heading to their respective homes.”—————————————————

Morning arrived quietly over Seoul, but inside the Special Investigation Unit, the atmosphere remained tense.

Files covered the desk of Lee Tae-jun like pieces of a puzzle refusing to fit together.

Five dead men.

Five different lives.

One woman connecting all of them.

And now—

A sixth name from the past.

Lee Su-ho.

Tae-jun stared at the photograph clipped to the investigation file. Su-ho looked younger there, standing beside children in a refugee camp with sunlight across his face.

Not wealthy.

Not corrupt.

Different from the others.

“He worked for an international relief organization,” Yoon Jae-min explained while handing over additional reports. “Spent years in conflict zones.”

Tae-jun flipped through the documents slowly.

Syria.

Aleppo.

Humanitarian missions.

Then finally—

Cause of death.

Killed during a terrorist attack overseas seven years ago.

Tae-jun’s eyes darkened slightly.

Unlike the other victims, Su-ho had not died in luxury.

He died in war.

“Was he involved with Hae-rin before he left Korea?” Tae-jun asked.

Jae-min nodded once.

“They dated seriously. According to people close to him, he wanted her to leave everything behind and go overseas with him.”

“And she refused.”

“No,” Jae-min replied carefully. “He left first.”

That answer stayed with Tae-jun longer than expected.

Because for the first time, one of the men connected to Yoo Hae-rin didn’t sound obsessed with her.

He sounded like someone who genuinely loved her.

⸻

Later that morning, Royal Auction House received a private delivery.

No sender name.

No return address.

Just a large wooden crate marked FRAGILE.

Inside the preparation hall, staff gathered nervously around it while Do Ha-eun carefully removed the protective covering.

Then silence filled the room.

The painting revealed beneath the cloth was haunting.

A small Syrian child sat alone in the middle of a destroyed street, surrounded by smoke, collapsed buildings, and ash-covered ruins.

At the bottom corner of the canvas, written in elegant lettering:

An Orphan from Syria.

The moment Yoo Hae-rin saw it—

She stopped walking.

Completely.

Even from a distance, the change in her expression was immediate.

Not shock.

Recognition.

Something painful enough to hollow out the calm in her eyes.

“Hae-rin?” Seo-ah called softly.

But she didn’t answer immediately.

Her gaze remained fixed on the painting like it had reached inside her chest and touched something buried there years ago.

“Who sent this?” she asked quietly.

“No sender information,” Ha-eun replied nervously.

Hae-rin stepped closer slowly.

The child in the painting looked terrified.

Alone.

Forgotten beneath war and destruction.

And suddenly—

A memory surfaced too quickly.

Warm sunlight.

Dust in the air.

Lee Su-ho smiling while holding a camera beside refugee children.

“Not every broken place stays broken forever.”

Her breathing tightened slightly.

Jung Seo-ah noticed immediately.

“You know this painting?”

Hae-rin looked away.

“…No.”

But the lie sounded fragile.

⸻

Hours later, the auction hall was empty except for the soft glow of projector lights across a large screen.

Hae-rin sat alone reviewing upcoming exhibition pieces while images of paintings shifted silently before her.

Luxury portraits.

Abstract collections.

Rare European pieces.

But her attention remained elsewhere.

On Syria.

On Su-ho.

On memories she spent years trying not to revisit.

Then—

A voice interrupted the darkness behind her.

“People who love you seem to die in different ways.”

Hae-rin didn’t flinch.

Because she already recognized the voice.

Lee Tae-jun stepped into the projector light slowly, his expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” she said quietly.

“You shouldn’t lie during investigations.”

The slideshow continued changing behind her, soft light shifting across both their faces.

Tae-jun walked closer.

“I looked into Lee Su-ho,” he said.

At the mention of the name, Hae-rin’s eyes lowered slightly.

“He died in Syria during a terror attack.”

Silence.

“You cared about him,” Tae-jun continued carefully.

“I cared about all of them.”

“But he was different.”

That finally made her look at him.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Tae-jun continued in a lower voice.

“The businessman died in his penthouse.”

“The psychiatrist overdosed.”

“The heir collapsed alone.”

“And the relief worker died in a war zone halfway across the world.”

His eyes stayed fixed on her.

“But somehow,” he murmured, “every road still leads back to you.”

The projector light flickered softly across Hae-rin’s face.

Beautiful.

Tired.

Dangerously unreadable.

Then slowly—

She stood up from her chair and walked toward him until barely any space remained between them.

“You keep saying men die around me,” she whispered softly.

Tae-jun didn’t move.

Hae-rin’s gaze locked onto his.

“Then tell me something, Investigator Lee…”

Her voice dropped lower.

More intimate.

More dangerous.

“Do you already know who’s going to fall for me next?”

Silence.

Heavy.

Tae-jun felt it immediately—that dangerous pull she carried beneath every word and glance.

The kind that blurred logic.

The kind that ruined careful men.

Hae-rin stepped even closer.

“And when they do,” she whispered, “will they die too?”

For the first time since meeting her—

Lee Tae-jun couldn’t answer.