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The middle-aged housekeeper stumbled backward, hands raised, face drained of color.
Doyoon rushed forward in one stride.
In front of her stood Seunghyun in pajamas, brandishing a kitchen knife. His face was paper-white, but his eyes blazed like a cornered animal.
Shards of a broken plate littered the floor—clearly there had been a struggle while Doyoon was outside.
For a split second the world spun.
“Hyung!”
“D-don’t come closer—!”
Doyoon froze on the spot. He clenched his teeth so hard they creaked.
Of all the times—while the caretaker was out running errands.
He had to admit he was impressed. Seunghyun had played the perfect obedient captive, all while secretly tracking when the staff left the house.
Maybe even the fever had been an act.
A hollow laugh escaped Doyoon.
“…You’d really go this far?”
This is why being too smart was a problem.
The only thing Seunghyun had miscalculated was that Doyoon wasn’t planning to be gone long this time.
Doyoon glanced silently at the housekeeper; she frantically waved both hands—no, not my fault.
Seunghyun now gripped the knife with both shaking hands and aimed it at Doyoon.
Even from a distance, his chest heaved violently.
He was trying so hard to look calm—it was almost pitiful.
Voice trembling:
“Let me out of here.”
“Hyung, calm down. You’re sick—what are you doing with something dangerous? Put it down. How are your feet?”
Seunghyun looked deaf to every word.
He repeated, shaking harder:
“I said let me out!”
Doyoon exhaled a long, theatrical sigh.
“You’ll freeze to death in ten minutes. You know how cold it is here.”
“Give me your car keys.”
Doyoon actually burst out laughing.
“You think you know where we are? Planning to drive off a cliff without GPS?”
The new information threw Seunghyun off balance.
Doyoon had never once told him the exact location—just endless pine forest as far as the eye could see. Seunghyun had assumed some random mountain. He hadn’t known they were high enough for cliffs.
He glared through red-rimmed eyes.
Doyoon explained slowly, like to a child:
“That Vancouver apartment you lived in? Sold ages ago. No money, no ID—what exactly is your plan?”
Seunghyun’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Doyoon continued, still gentle:
“You won’t reach Mom or Seunghee-noona either. I changed their numbers before I left Korea.”
Seunghyun’s eyes flickered wildly for a moment.
But he tightened his grip again.
“They don’t change numbers that easily. Too many contacts linked.”
“Believe what you want. You think I’d do all this without preparation? I convinced them to change while shaking off the parasites clinging to Chairman Choi and Grandpa.”
Seunghyun’s breath stopped.
Doyoon was absolutely capable of it—he’d drugged Seunghyun’s drink to kidnap him, prepared this bizarre place… Despite his resolve, panic clawed at him.
Doyoon stepped carefully over the broken porcelain, closing the distance.
Seunghyun’s arms started trembling harder.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve paid more attention. You must’ve been so bored.”
Seunghyun only glared at the shameless face.
Then, deep breath, low voice:
“You really think this will change anything between us?”
“Yes.”
Immediate, certain answer.
In that instant, Seunghyun turned the knife toward his own throat.
“I won’t live like this.”
“Hyung—!”
For the first time, Doyoon’s calm mask cracked—real fear and fury.
He had taken Seunghyun hostage against himself.
Uncontrollable rage and panic flooded Doyoon; his face went ashen.
He bit his lip until it bled.
Seunghyun caught every change.
“Come closer and I’ll do it.”
His hand shook so badly the blade could slip any second.
It was the strongest possible threat.
Doyoon felt dizzy, took a deep breath, and finally nodded.
“…Okay. You can leave.”
He actually stepped aside.
The sudden compliance threw Seunghyun off.
But he knew—this might be his only chance.
He glanced at the housekeeper; Doyoon signaled her to leave.
Doyoon added softly:
“Watch the glass.”
Still holding the knife to his own neck, Seunghyun crouched, dragged Doyoon’s parka over, and backed toward the front door.
“Keys in the pocket, coat on the floor, phone too. You go into that room. Don’t follow me. If I see you following, I’ll kill myself.”
He pressed the blade harder—a thin red line appeared.
Doyoon instantly dropped everything on the floor and raised both hands in surrender.
“Okay. Please—just don’t.”
Seunghyun never lowered the knife from his throat as he shuffled backward, slipped on Doyoon’s huge hiking boots (clumsy and loose, but better than nothing), and finally bolted out the door.
The moment it opened, arctic wind whipped him like a lash.
He didn’t care—ran straight for the Jeep, pressed the fob.
Beep—unlocked.
Real keys!
He locked himself inside, started the engine, tossed the knife on the passenger seat.
His whole body shook so violently his teeth chattered.
Terror and freezing cold blurred everything.
He checked the rear-view mirror—no one chasing.
It had actually worked.
Months of silent planning—perfect.
He threw on the parka; the trembling didn’t stop.
First time driving in months.
He followed faint tire tracks downward.
“I did it!”
Tears threatened.
Doyoon had lied about cliffs to scare him—everything was a lie.
His heart pounded with terror and exhilaration.
The dense pines began thinning.
Snow gradually disappeared.
Cold sweat poured; he couldn’t tell if he was hot or cold.
No other car in the mirrors.
Then—flat brown earth spread before him.
“…Huh?”
He slammed the brakes—screech.
The “brown earth” filling his vision was sand.
A beach.
“What the…?”
He turned left—nothing.
Right—nothing.
No asphalt road, no village, no people.
Just one dilapidated pier.
The ground fell away beneath him.
“No…”
He stumbled out of the car.
Behind the sand, endless dark-blue ocean stretched to the horizon.
Waves crashed, mocking him.
This was an island.
Only now did he understand why Doyoon had let him go so easily.
Terror and despair crashed over him.
He collapsed in the sand and sobbed—raw, choking wails that tore his throat.
Not even a seagull answered.
After some time—minutes? hours?—footsteps crunched behind him.
He didn’t need to look.
A familiar voice, gentle again:
“Done now? Let’s go back. It gets cold here once the sun sets.”
You’ve got to see this next! The Girl Who Returned from Hell Doesn’t Want to Depend on Her Best friend will keep you on the edge of your seat. Start reading today!
Read : The Girl Who Returned from Hell Doesn’t Want to Depend on Her Best friend
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And in other life he gave him that islans as a birthday gift, A BIRTHDAY GIFT!! Uuğh this is so disturbing, pls end this side story please 🤢🤮