Chapter 3 The Man in the Shadows.

(Lee Mira's POV)

Sleep has become a myth.

Every time I close my eyes, the same image flickers behind my lids - flames curling through the edges of a photograph, a shadow turning away from me just before everything burns white. I wake with my heart in my throat, the sound of crackling still echoing in my ears.

For the third night in a row, I sit at my desk long after midnight, the city outside alive with its mechanical heartbeat - taxis cutting through the rain, the hum of neon, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt. Seoul never really sleeps; it just changes its face.

The photograph I found in the ruins lies under my desk lamp. I've stared at it so long the details feel carved into my skull - the piano, the blurred smile of Lina Vale, and the faceless man beside her.

Evan's warning repeats in my mind: If you found this, they'll come for you too.

But who are they?

I pull up my laptop, typing Vale Foundation again. Most of the hits are gone - wiped clean. Pages that used to exist now redirect to error messages. A digital purge. I try another approach: Choi Seung-ho, the foundation's founder.

One headline remains from a financial newspaper:

> Philanthropist Choi Seung-ho announces merger of Vale Foundation assets under Hanseong Group subsidiary.

Hanseong Group. A name I recognize. Their buildings tower over half of Seoul's skyline. If the Vale Foundation's assets were absorbed by Hanseong, then the people behind that fire didn't disappear - they rebranded.

And one of their board members? Park Min-su.

Park. Evan's surname.

The coincidence is too sharp to ignore. My cursor hovers over the screen, my chest tightening.

Could they be related?

The rational part of me whispers don't jump to conclusions. But the instinctive, pulsing part - the one that feels older than this life - hisses you already know the answer.

I grab my phone, scroll through my contacts until I find Evan's number. My thumb hesitates over the call icon. Then I lock the screen again.

No. Not yet.

If he's part of this, calling him could warn him that I'm onto something.

Instead, I slip on my coat and head out. The rain has turned thin and cold, slicing through the night like needles. My dorm's fluorescent hallway flickers as I pass. Every sound feels amplified - the click of my boots, the sigh of the elevator, my own breath echoing in the stairwell.

I don't have a destination, only a lead. Hanseong Group's central office is in Gangnam, a twenty-minute subway ride away. Maybe there's something there - a record, a connection, anything that links them to the fire.

The train is nearly empty. My reflection stares back from the dark window, eyes shadowed, mouth set in a hard line. Somewhere between stations, the lights flicker, and for an instant, my reflection isn't mine. It's hers - Lina's - her hair longer, her eyes hollow and terrified.

I flinch back. When the lights steady, it's just me again.

The announcement chimes: Next stop, Yeoksam.

I grip the locket under my shirt, its surface warm against my palm, as if it's been waiting for this moment.

The Hanseong Tower looms over Gangnam like a monument to power - all glass and chrome, its top floors swallowed by fog. Even at this hour, the lobby glows with quiet life: janitors polishing marble, a guard at the reception desk flipping through a magazine, the low hum of elevators drifting through the stillness.

I shouldn't be here. But curiosity burns hotter than fear.

I pretend confidence as I approach the front desk. The guard looks up, his nametag reading Mr. Oh. "Building's closed, miss. Offices reopen at eight."

"I'm meeting someone," I lie. "Mr. Han from floor thirty-two."

He squints at me. "There's no one working up there tonight."

My heart pounds, but I smile faintly, lowering my voice. "He told me it was confidential."

Something in the word confidential does the trick. He hesitates, then shrugs. "Fine. Use the service elevator. Be quick."

I thank him and step inside the elevator, pressing the button for the thirty-second floor. The doors close with a soft sigh, sealing me into silence.

As the numbers climb, the fluorescent light flickers again, faint but insistent. My reflection looks pale in the metal wall, eyes darker than before. For a heartbeat, I swear I see smoke curling at the edges of my hair.

When the doors slide open, I'm met with darkness. The office floor is empty - cubicles like graves, the scent of paper and ozone hanging in the air. Only one door glows faintly at the far end, light seeping through the glass blinds.

I approach, every step measured.

A voice drifts from inside, low and male, speaking in English with a faint Korean accent. "You shouldn't have come here, Miss Lee."

My breath catches.

The door creaks open. A man stands by the window, tall, wearing a charcoal suit. His back is to me, face reflected faintly in the glass. He turns slowly, and for a moment I can't place him - then I remember the forum message. The user who warned me away from the ruins.

"Daniel Han," I whisper.

He smiles without warmth. "So you did go."

I tense. "How do you know my name?"

He gestures to a chair. "You've been searching for the Vale Foundation. People notice when ghosts start looking for their graves."

"I'm not looking for graves. I'm looking for truth."

"Same thing, in this city." He sits, folding his hands. "You're not the first to ask questions about the fire, Miss Lee. But most of them learned to stop."

"I won't."

His eyes, dark and sharp, flick to the locket around my neck. "That belonged to Lina Vale, didn't it?"

The air leaves my lungs. "How do you know that name?"

"Because I knew her," he says softly. "And because she trusted the wrong person."

My hands tighten on the back of the chair. "Who?"

He leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "Evan Park."

I feel as if the ground tilts beneath me.

Daniel's tone is steady, almost clinical. "He wasn't a firefighter when she met him. He worked for the Vale Foundation - internal security. His job was to keep secrets quiet. Including hers."

"No," I breathe. "You're lying."

"Am I?" He reaches into his jacket and slides a flash drive across the desk. "This is a copy of the foundation's personnel list, right before the fire. Look for yourself."

My fingers shake as I pick it up. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Because someone has to finish what she started," he says. "And you seem... motivated."

A faint smile touches his lips, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Careful, Miss Lee. When you stare into old flames, they stare back."

A sound cuts through the silence - the elevator dinging somewhere down the hall. Daniel's expression hardens. "You should go."

"Who's that?"

"Go!"

He's already turning off the lamp, plunging the office into shadow. I back away, heart hammering, the flash drive clenched in my fist. Through the glass door, I glimpse movement - two silhouettes stepping out of the elevator, one of them unmistakably broad-shouldered.

Evan.

My stomach twists.

Daniel's voice is a hiss in the dark. "If he finds you here, you'll never know which side he's on."

I slip through a side exit just as footsteps approach the door. In the corridor's dim light, I catch one last glimpse through the glass - Evan standing where I was seconds ago, his face set in grim determination, his gaze sweeping the room like a hunter searching for prey.

Absolutely - we'll complete Chapter 3 – "The Man in the Shadows" with Parts Three and Four in one continuous flow.

Tone: dark, cinematic, emotionally charged. Mira's trust fractures completely, paranoia mounting as truth and illusion blur.

Let's continue.

The elevator hums to life behind me as I race down the emergency stairwell. The concrete walls amplify every footstep, every breath. I don't stop until I burst out onto the street, the rain hitting me like glass shards.

Neon lights smear across puddles. I blend into the noise of Seoul - the hiss of tires, the chatter of night cafés, the pulse of the city that never sleeps. But even here, I feel watched.

I duck into a narrow alley between two convenience stores, leaning against the cold brick wall. My hands tremble as I pull out the flash drive. It's small, ordinary - but it feels like dynamite.

Evan's face keeps flashing in my mind: the way he looked at me at the ruins, the warning in his voice, the fear. If Daniel's right... then everything he said, everything he did - even saving me - could have been a lie.

I shove the thought away and flag down a taxi. "Yonsei University dorms," I tell the driver, voice shaking.

He nods, pulling into traffic. The city outside blurs into color and motion. I keep checking the rearview mirror. A black sedan follows two cars behind, its headlights steady, unblinking.

My pulse spikes.

I tell the driver to take a detour. He frowns but complies. The sedan follows every turn.

By the time we reach a red light, I've made my decision. "Stop here," I whisper, tossing cash onto the seat. I climb out and cut through a side street just as the light changes.

The sedan speeds past, but I see it - tinted windows, license plate smeared with mud. Someone is watching me.

I duck into a 24-hour internet café, the kind that smells of instant noodles and recycled air. The attendant barely glances at me as I rent a cubicle. I plug in the flash drive, heart hammering.

The screen flickers. Folders appear - encrypted, labeled with dates. One file catches my eye: "Personnel_Confidential.xlsx."

I open it. A list fills the screen - names, ID numbers, job titles. My eyes scan down until I find it:

Park, Evan - Internal Security Division. Status: Active (2019). Project: Red Room.

The words blur for a second. My throat closes.

So it's true.

He did work for the Vale Foundation.

"Project Red Room..." I whisper, scrolling. Several names are linked to it, including Choi Seung-ho and Daniel Han. My hand freezes on the mouse. Daniel was involved too.

Which means he's not helping me - he's just playing another angle.

I scroll again. At the bottom, a final column marked Outcome.

Next to Lina Vale's name, one word: Terminated.

And beside Evan's: Cleared.

The screen flickers - then freezes. The café lights dim for half a second. When they come back, the file is gone. Deleted.

Someone's tracking the access.

I yank the drive out and rush for the exit, nearly colliding with a man entering. He mutters an apology in Korean, but something about his voice makes me pause. I glance back - tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark hood.

For a heartbeat, our eyes meet.

Evan.

He doesn't call my name. He just looks at me, unreadable. Rain drips from his hair. His lips move slightly - Don't run.

But I already am.

I bolt into the street, the storm swallowing me whole.

The streets twist around me, each turn identical - neon, rain, shadows. My lungs burn, my shoes slipping on wet concrete. Somewhere behind me, footsteps echo faintly but steadily.

I duck into an underground parking structure. The smell of oil and rainwater fills the air. I crouch behind a pillar, breath shallow.

Silence. Then - a low, steady voice.

"Mira."

I close my eyes. Evan's voice. Calm, almost gentle. "I'm not here to hurt you."

I grip the flash drive tighter. "You lied to me."

"I wanted to protect you."

"By working for the people who killed her?"

A pause. Then, softer: "You don't understand what happened that night."

I step out from behind the pillar, heart pounding. "Then tell me!"

He's standing near the ramp, water dripping from his jacket, eyes dark with exhaustion. "Lina wasn't a victim, Mira. She was the reason the house burned."

I freeze. "That's not true."

"She found something," he continues, voice cracking. "Something that could destroy the Foundation. She planned to expose it - Red Room. A project that used music therapy as a front for illegal experimentation. But when they found out, she didn't run. She fought back."

His gaze flickers to the locket around my neck. "That locket - she filled it with a microchip, Mira. Proof of everything."

I shake my head. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to survive."

Lightning flashes through the gaps in the ceiling, illuminating his face - raw, desperate. "They think you're her," he says. "And maybe they're right. Maybe she found a way back."

The air hums with tension. My voice trembles. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I was the one who tried to save her."

The words hang between us like smoke.

But before I can respond, a sound cracks through the garage - the sharp report of a gunshot. Concrete splinters near Evan's feet. He pulls me down, dragging me behind a car.

A shadow moves at the far end - tall, precise, aiming again.

"Daniel," Evan mutters, teeth clenched.

Another shot. Glass shatters. The echo rings like thunder.

"Stay down," Evan says, reaching for something inside his jacket.

"Are you armed?"

"I'm not the one you should be afraid of."

I glance up - Daniel's silhouette framed in the stairwell, gun steady. His voice cuts through the chaos. "She has the drive, Evan! You know what happens if she talks!"

"Then you shouldn't have made her part of it!" Evan shouts back.

The next moment is chaos - Daniel fires again, Evan returns fire, the air fills with smoke and noise. I crawl toward the exit, the flash drive clenched in my fist.

Someone grabs my arm. Evan. His face is streaked with blood, his expression fierce. "Run, Mira! Now!"

I hesitate for a heartbeat - then bolt.

The storm outside hits like a wall. I run until my lungs ache, until the sirens fade behind me. When I finally stop, I'm standing on a pedestrian bridge overlooking the Han River. The city glows below, indifferent, endless.

My reflection stares back from the wet glass - pale, haunted. Behind it, faintly, another reflection forms - Lina's, lips moving silently.

I lean closer. "What do you want from me?" I whisper.

Her voice - my voice - answers in my mind: Remember.

The locket burns hot against my skin. I open it - and there, beneath the photo, a hidden compartment clicks open. Inside, a tiny black chip glints in the dim light.

The truth.

Footsteps approach behind me. I spin around - Evan stands at the far end of the bridge, drenched, bleeding, eyes pleading.

"Mira," he says softly. "They'll kill you for that. Give it to me."

I stare at him, heart hammering. "You said you wanted to protect me. Prove it."

Lightning flashes. For a split second, his face looks like it's caught between guilt and love, fear and something else.

He takes a step forward. "I can't let them have it again."

"Then who are you protecting?" I whisper.

He hesitates - and that hesitation tells me everything.

I back away slowly, the rain washing down my face. "Stay away from me, Evan."

"Mira-"

But I'm already gone, swallowed by the storm, the chip burning like a secret heartbeat in my hand.