Yuna:
The silence after they left didn't feel normal.
It pressed against my chest.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
Like something had shifted in the air—and I was the only one standing in the middle of it, trying to understand what just happened.
For a few minutes, I stayed in the living room.
Just… standing there.
Staring at the door.
Hoping—maybe foolishly—that it would open again.
That he would walk back in.
That he would say something.
Explain something.
Anything.
But it didn't.
---
My fingers curled slowly at my sides.
"…No," I whispered.
"This isn't right."
Something inside me refused to stay still.
Refused to accept what I thought I knew.
Because what if—
What if I was wrong?
---
The thought hit me suddenly.
Sharp.
Clear.
And before I could stop myself—
I turned.
And ran upstairs.
---
Ethan's study room door was slightly open.
Just the way he had left it.
I pushed it gently.
Stepping inside.
---
The room felt different now.
Not intimidating.
Not distant.
But… full.
Like it was hiding answers.
---
My eyes went straight to the desk.
The files.
Still there.
Still untouched.
Still waiting.
---
I walked closer slowly.
My heart beating louder with every step.
"…Please," I whispered.
"I need to know."
---
I picked up one of the photocopied files.
The one he didn't take.
My hands trembled slightly.
But I didn't stop.
---
I opened it.
---
The same face stared back at me.
The same man.
Cold.
Unfamiliar.
Dangerous.
---
But this time—
I didn't look away.
---
I started reading.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every line.
Every detail.
Every word.
---
At first—
It was confusing.
Names.
Transactions.
Locations.
I didn't understand everything.
But then—
Piece by piece—
It started to make sense.
---
"…Drugs?" I whispered.
My brows pulled together.
My eyes moved faster now.
Scanning.
Reading.
Trying to connect everything.
---
Illegal substances.
Distribution routes.
Black markets.
Thousands of units.
Millions in profit.
---
My breath hitched.
"…This isn't just business…"
My eyes moved further down.
---
Casualties.
Reported deaths.
Overdoses.
Addiction cases.
Families destroyed.
---
My hand trembled.
"…Thousands…?"
My voice broke slightly.
---
"…He's killing people…"
Not directly.
But still—
Killing.
Destroying.
Ruining lives.
---
My chest tightened painfully.
---
And then—
Another page.
---
Proof.
Clear.
Undeniable.
Photos.
Reports.
Witness statements.
---
I stared at them.
My vision blurring slightly.
"…This is real…"
---
I flipped another page.
And another.
And another.
---
Every detail—
Every line—
Pointed to the same thing.
---
Ethan's target…
Was not innocent.
---
He wasn't random.
He wasn't harmless.
He wasn't someone chosen without reason.
---
He was dangerous.
Worse than dangerous.
He was responsible.
For deaths.
For pain.
For destruction.
---
My hand slowly lowered.
The file slipping slightly from my grip.
"…So this is what…"
My voice trembled.
"…this is what he does…"
---
My mind replayed everything.
Every moment.
Every argument.
Every accusation I threw at him.
---
"You talk about killing people like it's nothing."
---
Tears filled my eyes instantly.
"…I was wrong…"
---
The file slipped from my hands.
Falling to the floor with a soft sound.
---
I stepped back.
Shaking my head.
"No…"
"No, no…"
---
My knees gave out.
And I dropped to the floor.
---
The weight hit me all at once.
The realization.
The truth.
The guilt.
---
"I misunderstood him…" I whispered.
My voice breaking completely.
"…I thought…"
I couldn't even finish the sentence.
---
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Fast.
Uncontrolled.
---
"I hated him…"
"For something he didn't even do…"
---
My hands covered my face.
My shoulders shaking.
---
"I didn't even try to understand…"
"I didn't trust him…"
---
The pain in my chest grew heavier.
Tighter.
Like it was suffocating me.
---
"I said all those things to him…"
"I accused him…"
"I looked at him like he was—"
I stopped.
Because I couldn't say it.
---
"…I hate myself," I whispered.
The words came out broken.
Raw.
Real.
---
And then—
A sound.
---
The elevator.
---
A soft ding echoed through the house.
---
I didn't move.
Didn't look up.
Didn't wipe my tears.
---
Footsteps.
Light.
Familiar.
---
"Elena?"
Her voice came from the hallway.
"…Yuna?"
---
She stepped inside the study.
And stopped.
---
I could feel her eyes on me.
On the scattered files.
On me sitting on the floor.
Broken.
---
"…What are you doing here?" she asked softly.
---
I couldn't answer at first.
My throat tight.
My chest aching.
---
Then slowly—
I looked up at her.
My vision blurred.
My face wet with tears.
---
"…I was wrong," I whispered.
---
She frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
---
I shook my head.
Tears falling again.
"…He doesn't…"
"…Ethan doesn't kill innocent people…"
---
Her expression softened instantly.
But she didn't interrupt.
She just listened.
---
"I thought…" I choked.
"I thought he was just…"
"…cruel… cold… heartless…"
---
My voice broke completely.
---
"But he's not…"
"He's not like that…"
---
I looked down at the files.
"…That man…"
"…he's killing people…"
"…thousands…"
---
My hands trembled again.
"And Ethan…"
"…he's stopping him…"
---
The realization hit me again.
Even harder.
---
"I misunderstood everything…"
"I judged him…"
"I blamed him…"
---
I let out a broken sob.
---
"I hate myself…"
---
The words echoed in the room.
Heavy.
Painful.
---
For a moment—
There was silence.
---
Then—
Elena moved.
Slowly.
Gently.
---
She walked toward me.
Knelt down beside me.
---
Her hand rested softly on my shoulder.
---
"I know," she said quietly.
---
I looked at her.
Shocked.
"…You know?"
---
She nodded.
"…I always knew."
---
My breath hitched.
"…Then why didn't you tell me?"
---
She sighed softly.
"…Because it wasn't my place."
---
Tears fell again.
"…I hurt him…"
---
Elena's hand tightened slightly on my shoulder.
---
"You didn't know," she said gently.
---
"But I should have trusted him…"
---
She shook her head.
"…It's not that simple."
---
I looked at her.
My voice trembling.
"…I said things I can't take back…"
---
Elena moved closer.
Wrapping her arms around me.
Pulling me into a soft embrace.
---
"It's okay," she whispered.
---
I broke down completely.
Crying against her.
Holding onto her like I needed something to stay steady.
---
"I thought he was a monster…"
"…but he's not…"
---
Elena gently stroked my hair.
"…He's complicated," she said softly.
---
I shook my head.
"…No…"
"…he's protecting people…"
---
She didn't argue.
Didn't correct me.
---
Because maybe—
In his own way—
He was.
---
"I hurt him…" I whispered again.
---
Elena pulled back slightly.
Looking at me.
---
"Then fix it," she said.
---
I blinked.
"…How?"
---
She gave a small, knowing smile.
"…You'll figure it out."
---
I looked down.
At the scattered files.
At the truth I had finally seen.
---
And for the first time—
I understood him.
Not completely.
But enough.
---
Enough to know—
That I wasn't going to let him walk this path alone anymore.
I stayed in Elena's arms longer than I expected.
Not because I was weak—
But because I didn't know how to stand back up again after realizing how wrong I had been.
Her hand moved slowly over my hair, calm and steady, like she wasn't judging me… like she had already seen this side of people before.
And maybe she had.
"…He never explains himself," she said quietly after a while.
I pulled back slightly, wiping my tears with trembling fingers.
"…Why?"
Elena sighed softly and leaned back just enough to look at me properly.
"Because in his world, explanations are seen as weakness."
My brows furrowed.
"That's… stupid."
A small smile touched her lips.
"It is. But that's how he was raised."
I looked down again.
At the file.
At the proof.
"…Then how was I supposed to know?" I whispered.
"You weren't," she replied gently.
Her words didn't remove the guilt.
But they made it… lighter.
Just a little.
---
I slowly pushed myself up from the floor.
My legs felt weak at first, but I steadied myself on the edge of the desk.
The room felt different now.
Not cold.
Not distant.
But heavy with truth.
"I thought…" I started, then stopped.
My voice still shaky.
"I thought he enjoyed it."
Elena stood up beside me.
Her expression softened again.
"That's what most people think."
I turned to her.
"…But he doesn't, right?"
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then answered carefully.
"He doesn't enjoy killing."
A pause.
"But he doesn't hesitate either."
That answer…
Felt real.
Too real.
---
I looked back at the file one last time.
Then slowly closed it.
My fingers resting on top of it.
"…He carries all of this alone," I said quietly.
Elena didn't respond immediately.
Because she knew—
It wasn't a question.
---
A deep breath left my chest.
"…And I made it harder for him."
My throat tightened again.
"I accused him… pushed him away… when he didn't even defend himself."
Elena crossed her arms lightly, leaning against the desk.
"He's used to that."
"That doesn't make it okay," I said quickly.
She looked at me.
And for a moment—
There was something approving in her eyes.
"…No," she admitted. "It doesn't."
---
Silence settled between us again.
But this time—
It wasn't heavy.
It was… thoughtful.
---
"What are you going to do?" Elena asked after a moment.
I didn't answer right away.
Because I didn't have a perfect plan.
I didn't know exactly what to say.
Or how to say it.
But one thing—
I knew for sure.
---
"I'm not going to stay quiet anymore," I said finally.
My voice was still soft.
But steady.
"I'm not going to misunderstand him again."
Elena raised an eyebrow slightly.
"…And?"
I looked toward the window.
The sunlight had started to spread across the floor.
A new day.
A different feeling.
---
"…And I'm not going to let him carry everything alone."
The words came out slowly.
But firmly.
---
Elena watched me for a second.
Then a small smile appeared on her face.
"…You really are different."
I let out a quiet breath.
"…Maybe."
---
I turned back to the desk.
Placed the file properly where it belonged.
Like I was putting something back in its place—
Not just physically.
But inside me too.
---
"…Three days," I whispered.
"…Maybe four."
Elena nodded.
"They'll be back."
I looked at her.
"…And when he comes back…"
My fingers curled slightly.
"…I'm not going to run away this time."
---
For the first time since morning—
My chest didn't feel as heavy.
The guilt was still there.
The regret too.
But now—
There was something else with it.
---
Understanding.
And something stronger than before—
Determination.
---
Because this time—
When he walked back through that door—
I wouldn't look at him with doubt.
---
I would look at him—
And finally see him for who he really was.