Just Twilight-Chapter 83

The moment he sensed the hostile presence rushing toward him, Beomjin yanked the phone from his ear and turned.

He barely managed to catch the wrist lunging at him, but he could feel a dull pressure blooming in his lower abdomen.

"Die, Kwon Beomjin."

The blade twisted.

Warm liquid trickled down his wrist.

Just before his phone hit the ground, he thought he heard Samdu shouting something.

"Die!"

The voice dripped with something unnatural, something beyond the living.

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Seungwoon’s entire body trembled as he pressed forward with all his strength, but his eyes…

His eyes weren’t even looking at reality anymore.

Each breath he took came out in sharp gasps, his abdominal muscles tightening painfully.

"Die! You filthy bastard! You devil! Get out of my sight! Disappear! Just disappear!"

But when Beomjin refused to fall back, Seungwoon let out a strangled scream, his face contorted in frustration.

Sensing the instant when the tension shifted, Beomjin slammed his forehead into Seungwoon’s.

The knife slipped from his grip.

As Seungwoon staggered, Beomjin drove his knee into his stomach, making him lurch forward with a cry of pain.

Beomjin moved without hesitation, spinning smoothly as his leg swung up—striking the back of Seungwoon’s neck with precision.

Seungwoon collapsed onto the cold floor, writhing.

Tears streamed down his face, though he seemed unaware of them.

Crawling blindly forward, he reached out—only for Beomjin’s shoe to pin his hand to the ground.

The sharp scent of blood filled the air.

The knife, now stained red, hovered right before Seungwoon’s eyes.

Why isn’t he dead?

He had felt the blade sink into flesh.

He could see the blood pooling on the floor, undeniable proof of what he had done.

Then why…?

Why is it my hand being crushed instead?

A drop of blood dripped from the blade, landing on the floor with a soft plop.

Even as his breath came in ragged gasps, Seungwoon couldn’t tear his eyes away from that knife.

Pain shot through his crushed fingers, but he grit his teeth and endured it.

"You should’ve pressed harder. Maybe you weren’t committed enough?"

The detached voice stabbed into Seungwoon’s ears.

His body trembled violently.

"Listen carefully, Na Seungwoon."

The knife wavered slightly, and Seungwoon instinctively nodded.

Beomjin’s voice was too steady. Too calm.

It made his blood run cold.

"From now on, run. As far as you can. Stay out of sight. The moment you disappear from my sight, I’ll start hunting you. I’ll track where you go, what you eat, who you spend your days with.

"And if I even suspect that you’re thinking of trying something…"

The blade tilted.

This time, it wasn’t horizontal—it pointed straight down.

As if it was ready to slit his throat.

"Then I’ll return this knife to you."

Seungwoon’s racing heart screeched to a halt.

Cold sweat trickled down his cheek.

His mind, which had been spiraling out of control, suddenly snapped into focus.

Instinct told him exactly what Beomjin meant.

"So make sure you leave no traces. Live like you’re already dead. Make sure I don’t find you too easily."

Beomjin’s voice was so quiet, so steady, that it left no room for doubt.

"Because I won’t be lacking in commitment."

The final words hammered into Seungwoon’s skull like nails.

Slowly, Beomjin lifted his foot and stepped back.

Seungwoon dragged himself upright.

His hands—both of them—were smeared with blood.

He didn’t even know whose it was anymore.

Everything was slipping through his fingers.

Maybe even his soul.

A strangled sound escaped his lips—something caught between laughter and a sob.

"What the hell did I do so wrong? What did I do? What the hell did I do?"

"Don’t waste your time looking for meaning in your misery. It’s pointless."

Beomjin twirled the knife lightly in his fingers.

"So just disappear already. You don’t want Junyoung to see you getting dragged off to the police station, do you?"

That hit home.

Seungwoon’s legs, frozen in place, finally started moving.

One shaky step after another, his entire body teetering.

With every step, more and more of him crumbled.

He had lost so much already, he didn’t even know what was missing anymore.

His empty laughter echoed in the parking lot as his shadow grew smaller in the distance.

Beomjin watched, eyes narrowed, and finally exhaled a short breath.

Then, he turned and walked toward his fallen phone.

A searing pain burned through his abdomen.

— Boss! Boss! Please answer me! Damn it, what are you all doing?! Pull up the CCTV from the entrance and the parking lot—right now!

Beomjin picked up the phone. His mouth was already dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed hard before muttering,

"I figured you wouldn’t hang up."

— Boss!

Even if he hadn’t been stabbed, Samdu’s screaming would have been enough to make his eardrums burst.

Beomjin instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear, and the movement twisted his torso—sending another sharp pulse of heat through his wound.

Clamping a hand over the injury, he spoke slowly.

"Call the hospital. And get down to the parking lot. Quietly."

Samdu had been through enough of these situations to know exactly what to do.

After a low curse, he muttered,

— Who the hell was it? Should I lock down the entrance and send the guys after—

"Don’t make a scene. It’s not that bad. That’s not the issue right now."

— If that’s not the issue, then what the hell is?

What do you think?

The real problem was Junyoung.

If she got tired of waiting for her chocolate dessert and decided to call.

Beomjin sighed, barely listening to Samdu’s continued ranting. He leaned back against a pillar.

He had two choices.

Lie, or tell the truth.

…Would he even be able to lie?

The image of Junyoung’s sharp, perceptive gaze flashed through his mind, and a dry chuckle slipped past his lips.

The next moment, the parking lot door swung open with a loud crash.

Samdu was sprinting toward him at full speed.

***

Junyoung arrived at the hospital in a hurry, but surprisingly, she was calm. So calm, in fact, that both Beomjin and Samdu found themselves watching her warily.

The wound in his abdomen wasn’t as severe as the deep cut on his left palm, where he had blocked the knife directly. Fortunately, neither injury was expected to cause lasting damage.

Kang Sangchun, who had rushed over the moment he heard the news, let out a relieved sigh upon hearing it wasn’t life-threatening. Only then did he finally turn his attention to Junyoung and greet her properly.

"I’ve heard a lot about you, but I never expected to meet like this. Kang Sangchun. You can think of me as Beomjin’s uncle."

"Yoon Junyoung."

She had clearly left in a rush—she was wearing one of Beomjin’s oversized T-shirts, loose on her frame—but her posture remained perfectly composed. Perhaps it was because of those sharp, unwavering eyes.

Sangchun had been receiving reports on her for quite some time, through both documents and photographs, but seeing her in person left a far stronger impression. He nodded slightly before speaking again.

"You must have been startled. Sit down and rest a bit. At least it wasn’t anything too serious."

"Not serious?"

Her voice was dry, her gaze steady as she looked at him. The weight of it made Sangchun press his lips together.

"You’re the chairman of JBK Financial, correct? Was this related to company business?"

"Ah, well…"

The truth was, Sangchun had already asked every question possible the moment Samdu called him. Given how sensitive he was about Beomjin’s safety, that was only natural.

The assailant was Na Seungwoon.

And for some reason, Beomjin had ordered the CCTV footage erased.

That meant he had no intention of pressing charges. Whatever plans Beomjin had in mind, they didn’t involve legal retaliation.

Sangchun couldn’t afford to be careless with his words.

Especially since Junyoung was obviously connected to this in some way.

But Junyoung was not the kind of person to accept vague answers and move on.

She immediately caught on to his hesitation, her gaze sharpening.

"Is that how JBK operates? An executive gets stabbed, but since it wasn’t life-threatening, you just brush it off? What about the police? If it happened at a company facility, securing CCTV footage should be easy.

"You’re not reporting it because you already know who did it, aren’t you? You’re handling it internally instead?"

The rapid-fire questioning was overwhelming, but more than that—what she said wasn’t wrong.

Sangchun stole a glance at Samdu and Jung-ho, who were conveniently pretending not to hear anything, then clicked his tongue.

"Yoon Junyoung."

His voice dropped, his expression losing all traces of amusement.

"You’re not the only one who worries about that brat. To me, to Samdu, Beomjin is family. Someone irreplaceable.

"Just because we don’t show it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. I hope you can understand that much."

Junyoung, pale but unflinching, met his gaze head-on.

Sangchun was a man whose very presence commanded attention, but Junyoung had no intention of backing down.

For a long moment, she simply studied him, as if trying to measure the truth in his words.

Then, in an even voice, she said,

"I’ll keep that in mind.

"But I hope you’ll also remember—keeping secrets isn’t always the best way to protect someone."