Han Sihun didn’t sleep much.

  Not because of nightmares.

  Because of patterns.

  They haunted him more than ghosts ever could.

  ***

  He sat alone in his apartment, the screen dimly lit with autopsy reports and school records. The file on Lee Ahrin was open, but so were two others.

  Kim Minseo, high school cssmate. Died in a drowning accident, allegedly slipped in the school pool.

  Kwon Yuri, neighbor. Found unconscious at the bottom of a stairwell. Died three days ter. Ruled as an accident. No witnesses.

  And in both reports…

  Yoon Serin was nearby.

  Once as a “cssmate who helped report the body.”

  Once as a “concerned neighbor who dialed emergency services.”

  Always cooperative. Always smiling.

  Too perfect.

  “You’re a magnet for death, Miss Yoon,” he muttered, fingers tapping his desk. “But somehow, you’re always just far enough from the fmes.”

  He opened a new file and began typing.

  *Subject: Yoon Serin*

  *Status: Watchlist – Silent Investigation*

  *Note: Possibly high-functioning psychopath. Pattern of proximity to suspicious deaths. Extremely charismatic. Do not confront alone.*

  ***

  Meanwhile, Serin stood in a bathroom stall of a high-end bar downtown, calmly pulling on bck gloves.

  Her reflection was stunning.

  Dark red lipstick. Low-cut bck dress. A look that whispered dangerous, not victim.

  Her target tonight was simple.

  Yoo Junhwan.

  A former senior from high school. Now a junior prosecutor. He had texted her after Ahrin's death, acting concerned.

  But Serin remembered what he did in high school.

  What he did to Ahrin behind the gym.

  What he tried to do to Serin once before her grandfather “warned” him with a broken kneecap.

  And now? He was doing it again. To others.

  ***

  Serin walked out of the stall, heels clicking.

  Junhwan was at the bar. Arrogant smile. Too many drinks.

  “Serin?” he said, delighted. “You came.”

  “I wanted to talk,” she said sweetly. “In private.”

  ***

  The alley behind the club was dark and cold.

  Junhwan followed, ughing. “You’re really different now, you know that?”

  Serin smiled, pulling out a silver hairpin.

  “Everyone blooms eventually.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  She stabbed him cleanly behind the ear.

  He colpsed.

  She crouched, pulled off her gloves, and hummed.

  ***

  The next morning, Han Sihun got a call.

  Another body.

  A rising prosecutor found in an alley. No witnesses. No camera footage. Clean strike. Precise.

  And on the edge of the scene?

  A single red flower.

  He stared at it, brows furrowing.

  The same flower Serin had in her hair yesterday.