𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓 , 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰-𝘫𝘪𝘯

[ 𝟑 ] . . . the conned

FORELSKET
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
cho min-ji and hong woo-jin

The paramedics rushed Min-ji's stretcher through the hospital's sliding doors, the bright white lights of the emergency room assaulting her senses. The urgency in their movements reflected the chaos that surrounded them. The sterile scent of disinfectant permeated the air, mingling with the distant hum of medical equipment.

As they whisked her into the ER, the world became a blur of white: blinding lights, crisp linens, and the clinical uniforms of medical staff. The unpleasant beeping of machines created a dissonant soundtrack to the whirlwind of activity. Min-ji's gaze darted from one face to another, all masked, their expressions a mix of focused determination.

The stretcher slid into a designated space, and the medical team descended upon her. Curtains swiftly closed around her, isolating Min-ji in a cocoon of white. The hushed conversations of the nurses blended with the cacophony of the ER. They worked with precision, their hands a flurry of motion as they assessed her injuries.

The sharp sting of antiseptic cleansers and the sensation of bandages being applied merged with the constant beeping of monitors. The white curtain cocooned Min-ji in a surreal world of controlled chaos, her surroundings a blur of medical expertise, urgency, and the stark, clinical white that enveloped her. Each moment in the ER felt like a delicate dance between chaos and order, with Min-ji at its center, navigating the storm of medical attention.

Min-ji's mind felt like an empty void, a vast expanse devoid of thought, speech, or sensation—a canvas painted in the bleakest shades of nothingness. The abyss stared back at her, and she found herself engulfed in a chilling numbness that seemed to disconnect her from the chaotic reality unfolding around her.

Amidst the flurry of medical attention, Min-ju gazed at the waiting area, eyes falling upon an older woman, a silent companion in the shared space of anxiety and waiting. As Min-ju settled beside her, the weight of the harrowing events of the past hour crashed down on her. A deep sigh escaped her lips, followed by a pained sob that echoed the overwhelming trauma—her father's merciless stabbing, her sister's brutal injuries, and the menacing figures from Smile Capital. The emotional torrent surged, leaving Min-ju grappling with the raw intensity of the situation.

Observing the distressed younger girl beside her, So-yeon's heart ached for the pain etched across her face, and she couldn't help but wonder about the source of her anguish. "Hey, it's okay," So-yeon comforted, tentatively wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders. Min-ju, lost in her grief, welcomed the unexpected solace and leaned into the comforting embrace, allowing silent tears to fall.

When Min-ju's sobs subsided, she gingerly sat up, offering a small apology for her emotional outpour. So-yeon shook her head, her eyes warm with understanding, "Don't apologize; it's okay. I've been in your shoes just a few minutes ago—except I had no shoulder to lean on." Behind her mask, So-yeon's eyes crinkled as she offered a gentle smile, a shared connection in the face of tragedy.

Intrigued by the woman's presence and moved by empathy, Min-ju mustered the courage to inquire about So-yeon's own situation. "What's your story, if you don't mind me asking?"

So-yeon sighed, the weight of her own ordeal evident in her expression. "Oh, my son. It's a very long and gruesome story. Men wearing black suits and overcoats stormed into my café, destroying everything—windows, décor. When my son arrived, they beat him badly." So-yeon's voice faltered as she recalled the horrifying events of the night. "Their leader," she continued, tracing a line down her own cheek, "cut my boy's face right here." The shared pain and understanding between the two women formed an unspoken bond amidst the chaos of their individual tragedies.