The scooter swerved sharply, the tires skidding for a moment on the asphalt. Ji-woo wrestled it straight again, her voice tight in her headset. “Manager, wait!” “I heard it! I heard it clearly. There was a sound!” “You must have misheard. It’s an empty room, how could there be a sound?” “I’m telling you, I’m sure of it.” Ji-woo tried to force a calm she didn't feel, twisting the throttle. The scooter shot forward, blurring the familiar, peaceful scenery of Cheongdo into a smear of green and blue. “I’m sorry. I’ve already called the locksmith.” “No!” The cry was ripped from her, her composure finally shattering. She scrambled for a convincing excuse, a reason, anything to dissuade her, but the manager beat her to it. “Enough with the lies!” Park Mi-sook’s voice crackled over the line. “Stop telling me the room is locked because of water veins, or because you’re drying chilies and soybeans in there! I’m sick of it!” “It’s just—” “What are you, a Bluebeard? Why are you so desperate to keep me from opening that door? I wouldn’t care if you had a whole harem of men stashed away in there!” Ji-woo’s mouth fell open. Park Mi-sook, a sixty-year-old arborist, helped Ji-woo with tree treatments and managed the day-to-day operations of the hospital. The Pine Tree Clinic belonged to Han Ji-woo, who, at thirty-two and single, was highly unlikely to be hiding a harem of men anywhere. Manager Park always got like this, her curiosity flaring up whenever Ji-woo had to leave town. And today, it seemed she’d finally decided to act on it. Ji-woo understood her frustration, her suspicion at being kept in the dark. But still… The wooden plank engraved with ‘Pine Tree Clinic’ in a beautiful script swung precariously from its chains as Ji-woo burst through the entrance below it. The shabby, ivory-stained building served as both her home and clinic. The second floor, however, was painted an urban gray that clashed strangely with the floor below. She bypassed the first-floor office and took the stairs two at a time. “Manager!” she called out, breathless. “Damn it,” Park Mi-sook muttered. The locksmith was already at the second-floor door, his tools poised to break the lock. Ji-woo stumbled to a halt, panting for air. “Honestly, I’ve had enough of this.” “I told you,” Ji-woo gasped, leaning against the wall. “The room belongs to someone else. I’m not allowed in there either. That’s why it’s empty.” It was a half-truth, which was the most dangerous kind of lie. “Really? You’re not allowed in?” Park Mi-sook crossed her arms, her expression unconvinced. “Then how, exactly, did you manage to dry chilies and soybeans in there?” “That… um…” “Just let me get a quick sniff of the air inside this ‘empty’ room. That’s all I ask.” “It’s probably moldy. There’s been no ventilation,” Ji-woo pleaded. “You really don’t trust me, do you? Even if you had gold bars and diamonds hidden in there, I wouldn’t touch a thing.” I wouldn’t care if you stole all the gold and diamonds in the world, Ji-woo thought. She forced an awkward smile and gestured back towards the stairs. “Curiosity killed the cat, Manager.” “You’re such a liar! You’re much more convincing with your clients.” “But it’s true…” Park Mi-sook sighed. The tree doctor had seemed so easygoing at first. But after years of dealing with condescending clients—mostly male architects, civil engineers, and agricultural executives in their forties—her distrustful nature only seemed to have gotten worse. “Director, I’m not giving up until I find out what’s going on,” Park Mi-sook declared sternly, before turning and heading back downstairs. The locksmith packed his tools and followed her. Alone in the hallway, Ji-woo’s shoulders slumped, and she slid down the wall to the floor. This damned second floor… She closed her eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. The bed was an island in a sea of machinery. Monitors beeped in a steady, monotonous rhythm, their wires tethered to the man lying motionless upon the mattress. They were the only things keeping him alive. It was hard to guess his age. With his eyes closed and his head turned slightly to the left, he might have been any other person, sound asleep. But his large frame had withered over the past two years, the skin on his arms and legs stretched thin over atrophied muscle. Only his wide, angular shoulders remained the same as they were on that night in the mountains. Ji-woo sat in the chair beside the bed and let out a long, weary sigh. Two years, and not a single sign of improvement. She rubbed her face, trying to scrub away the fatigue. She was a doctor, yes, but a doctor for trees. This man—even in a vegetative state—was still a man. The memory of that night played in her mind, sharp as broken glass. Don’t you need to run away? When she’d swung her power saw to defend herself, the man hadn’t so much as flinched. The teeth of the saw had been stained with blood, but it hadn’t mattered to him. He hadn’t moved. She remembered the chilling certainty that she was about to die. She had braced herself, turning for one last look at her killer. But the moment their eyes met, he’d frozen. She saw his jaw clench, his face contorting in pain, before his heavy body had crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. Behind him stood another man, his form caked in dirt and blood. He had struck her attacker from behind with a stone, which now lay beside the unconscious body. He was the man Tae-joon had been about to bury alive, the man Ji-woo’s arrival had inadvertently saved. He staggered, his eyes rolling back in his head, before he too collapsed and tumbled down the hillside. Even now, sitting in the sterile quiet of the room, a chill traced its way down Ji-woo’s spine. She had come so close to death that night. Her gaze fell on the silent figure in the bed. “Seo Tae-joon,” she said, the name still feeling foreign on her tongue. “Please don’t wake up.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, taking a shaky breath. Ever since she’d run away from home, all she had ever wanted was a quiet life. For her, an ordinary, boring existence was the greatest privilege she could imagine. “Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the beeping of the machines. “Don’t ever wake up.” Overwhelmed by fatigue, Ji-woo buried her face in her hands. At that moment, the man’s finger twitched.

Chapter 2: A Bluebeard's Secret