Chapter 1 - The Spiral
They returned from Alaska in silence. The jet touched down, the SUV carried them home, and though everything looked the same, Haesoo knew something had shifted inside Nova. He didn’t press her, not yet.
For the next few days, life settled into a strange rhythm. SOL7 had two weeks off, and the house was unusually still without rehearsals or promotions pulling them apart. Nova filled the quiet with movement. She rose early, made breakfast, then lunch, then dinner—plates set neatly in front of Haesoo, Poppy, and Noa as if the act of feeding them was enough to keep the storm at bay.
Sometimes she ate with them, but more often she only pushed food around her plate, biting here and there before claiming she was full. Haesoo noticed every detail—the untouched rice, the half-sipped Coke Zero, the way her fork tapped against the edge of the dish when she thought no one was watching.
Poppy seemed steadier after Alaska, sharper even, like surviving her renewal had hardened her resolve. But Nova… she was different. It wasn’t the kind of change anyone else would see, but Haesoo felt it in the small silences, in the way her eyes stayed too long on the window, or in the way she went still when Noa laughed, as if the sound reminded her of something she couldn’t hold on to.
He wanted to ask, wanted to drag the truth out of her the way he had before. But Nova was still trying still cooking, still tucking Noa into bed, still carrying herself like nothing had broken. So he stayed quiet. For now.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Haesoo would wake to find her still awake, lying stiff beside him, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if she was waiting for something to fall out of it. She never spoke, never moved when she realized he was watching.
He didn’t press her. Instead, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer until her back pressed against his chest, until her shallow breaths matched the slow rhythm of his own. If she couldn’t sleep, then at least she wouldn’t be alone in the dark.
But he saw it. The way her skin had grown pale, how the shadows under her eyes deepened by the day. She still got up, still cooked, still carried Noa on her hip like nothing was wrong but the signs were there. Nova wasn’t resting, not really. And the longer he watched her fight silently against whatever haunted her, the more it twisted inside him that he didn’t know how to stop it.
The next few days, Nova seemed different. Brighter somehow, more alert, her steps lighter in the kitchen as she moved between the stove and the table. She smiled more, little flickers at things Poppy said or when Noa clapped her hands and squealed. Haesoo didn’t understand what had shifted inside her, but he didn’t question it. For once, seeing her laugh felt like enough.
Until one night.
He woke to cold sheets at his side, the space where she should’ve been empty. Pushing himself up, he glanced around the darkened house silent, still. No Nova. A flicker of unease passed through him as he checked downstairs. Her shoes were gone. So was her car.
Haesoo waited. Minutes dragged into an hour before the soft hum of the Mercedes cut through the quiet. He sat at the table, arms folded, as Nova slipped back inside.
She looked different cheeks faintly flushed, eyes alive in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Where did you go?” he asked carefully, searching her face.
Nova’s smile was soft, almost playful. “Convenience store. I couldn’t sleep, so I bought ice cream.” She tilted her head, a faint glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. “I ate it there.”
She didn’t explain more, and Haesoo didn’t press. But something in her happiness felt sharp, restless like she had found a secret she wasn’t ready to share.
The next few nights followed the same pattern. Haesoo would wake to find her gone, the space beside him cold, the hum of the Mercedes missing from the driveway. At first, he told himself it was harmless maybe she couldn’t sleep and slipped out for another convenience store run, another ice cream eaten under the buzz of fluorescent lights.
But then she started coming back different.
Her cheeks flushed, hair windswept, a faint edge clinging to her like static. And the smell sharp, undeniable the stench of burned rubber trailing faintly from her clothes, the kind that no convenience store could explain.
She would slide under the covers beside him without a word, her body still humming with energy, her lips curving into the smallest, satisfied smile. Haesoo lay awake, heart heavy, realization sinking deeper with every night: whatever she was chasing out there, it wasn’t ice cream.
The next evening, when Nova slipped out to put Noa down, Haesoo grabbed his keys.
“I’m going to grab some snacks,” he called casually, but his chest was tight as he stepped out the door.
Instead of turning toward the corner store, he drove across town, pulling into the familiar driveway of Asher’s house. The lights were still on; Asher opened the door before Haesoo even knocked, brows furrowed at the late visit.
Inside, Haesoo told him everything how Nova had been leaving in the middle of the night, coming back flushed and restless, her car reeking of burned rubber. How at first he believed her stories about ice cream, until the lies became too sharp to ignore.
Asher leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. He didn’t look surprised, not really. “She’s restless,” he muttered, more to himself than to Haesoo. Then his eyes sharpened. “When she leaves again, call me. I’ll follow her. You need to know what she’s doing before it gets worse.”
Haesoo nodded, tension pulling through his shoulders. He hated it the secrecy, the way she was slipping out of reach but he couldn’t deny the relief of having someone else in on it.
That night, Haesoo didn’t sleep. He lay still, waiting, every nerve wound tight until he heard the faint creak of the floorboards and the quiet click of the front door. Minutes later, the low growl of the Mercedes cut through the night.
He reached for his phone immediately, dialing Asher. “She just left.”
“I’m close,” Asher replied, his voice steady. “Stay on the line.”
Haesoo sat in the dark, the phone pressed tight to his ear, his heart pounding with every update Asher gave.
“She’s driving reckless,” Asher muttered, engine noise humming faintly through the call. “It’s raining, roads are slick she doesn’t care. She’s weaving like she wants the car to fly apart.”
Haesoo clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the nightstand. “What the hell is she doing?”
There was a pause, Asher’s voice low but certain when it came. “I know what this is. She’s not just driving. She’s racing. Underground.”
The words hit like a stone to the chest. Haesoo shut his eyes, exhaling hard, the image of Nova behind the wheel sharp and dangerous in his mind.
“Asher?” Haesoo pressed, his grip tight on the phone.
On the other end, Asher’s voice dropped lower, edged with something between disbelief and frustration. “She pulled into a lot. There’s a bunch of cars here… a crowd too. Looks like they’ve been waiting.”
Haesoo’s pulse kicked harder. “Waiting for what?”
“For her.” Asher’s sigh crackled through the speaker. “She’s lining up against another driver. This isn’t just joyriding she’s racing them. Full-on underground.”
Haesoo froze in the dark bedroom, the silence of the house clashing with the image Asher painted: neon lights, exhaust smoke, strangers crowding around while Nova sat cool behind the wheel like it was nothing.
“She doesn’t even look nervous,” Asher went on, a bitter edge in his tone. “She looks… alive.”
Haesoo shut his eyes, chest heavy. He’d seen Nova many ways furious, tender, broken, strong but this? This was something else entirely.
Through the phone, Haesoo heard the roar of engines in the background, Asher’s voice cutting in and out with static.
“They’re starting,” Asher muttered. “Two cars side by side she’s in it for real.”
Haesoo’s heart hammered in his throat. He could picture her perfectly: hands tight on the wheel, eyes sharp, no hesitation.
Then Asher swore under his breath. “Dammit, Nova her car just spun out of control on the turn. She almost lost it.”
Haesoo shot up from the bed, gripping the phone tighter. “What happened?!”
“She caught it,” Asher snapped quickly. “Straightened out. And… she won. She actually won.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of it. Haesoo sank back down, his chest twisting at the thought of her risking everything for a thrill.
Asher’s tone hardened. “Listen to me. Don’t confront her. Not yet. She won’t hear it from you. I’ll shut this down another way I’ll tip off the police, get patrol cars circling this area. It’ll be harder for her to race if she thinks the heat’s here.”
Haesoo stayed quiet, his breath rough, torn between relief she was safe and fury that she’d been so close to losing it all.
“Trust me,” Asher said firmly, “this is the only way to cut her off before she destroys herself.”
Haesoo closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if she finds another way?”
“She will,” Asher admitted, his voice heavy. “But at least this buys us time. Time to figure out how to pull her back.”
The sound of engines faded, replaced by the hum of tires on asphalt. Asher spoke again, lower this time. “She’s on her way home. Play it cool. If she thinks you’re watching, she’ll only get better at hiding.”
Minutes later, Haesoo heard the Mercedes slip back into the driveway. He quickly ended the call and slid into bed, pulling the blanket over himself as the door opened softly. Nova padded in, her steps light, and slipped beneath the sheets without a word.
Her skin was still warm from adrenaline, her breathing quick, steady. She lay on her side, smiling faintly like a secret she didn’t need to share.
Haesoo stared into the dark, every nerve pulled taut, holding her against him as though his arms alone could keep her from spinning out again.
Haesoo stayed still, his arm draped around her waist, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. She looked peaceful, almost content, as if the night had given her something he couldn’t.
But he couldn’t close his eyes. Not after what he’d heard. Not with the smell of burned rubber still clinging faintly to her hair.
Nova drifted off easily, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Haesoo lay wide awake beside her, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the truth pressing heavier with every passing minute.
She wasn’t running to escape anymore. She was running to feel alive.
And if he didn’t find a way to stop it, she was going to burn herself out.
The next day, Nova was back to her old rhythm—barely touching her meals, pacing at night, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. She had no idea that Asher had already cut off the circuit she’d been racing in.
Two nights later, she found another one.
Haesoo woke the moment the front door clicked shut. He stood there in the dark for a long second, jaw tight, then crossed the hall to the small room downstairs where Poppy was staying. She stirred as he pushed the door open.
“I’m going out,” he said quietly. “Just so you know—you’re alone here with Noa in the house.”
Poppy rubbed her eyes, sitting up halfway. “Is everything—”
“Don’t ask,” Haesoo cut in gently. “Just stay with her.”
She nodded, worry flickering in her expression, but she didn’t press.
Haesoo slipped out and caught up to Nova easily, following the sleek outline of her Mercedes as it threaded its way through the sleeping city. He trailed her to another abandoned stretch where headlights glared and engines snarled, a crowd already gathered.
He watched in disbelief as she lined up again, cool and unflinching, ready to throw herself into another race. The engines roared, the signal dropped, and the cars shot forward.
On the second turn, disaster hit the other car clipped her back end, and Nova’s Mercedes spun wildly, flipping onto its side with a scream of metal.
“Nova!”
Haesoo was out of his car before it even stopped moving, shoving through the stunned crowd. He yanked the twisted door open and dragged her out, glass and smoke biting his skin. Nova stumbled against him, scraped and bruised but alive, eyes glittering with adrenaline like it was a victory.
“You’re done,” Haesoo snapped, voice shaking with rage and terror.
She only smirked faintly, breathless, as if he couldn’t understand what she’d found out here.
Haesoo pulled out his phone with one hand, still gripping her with the other. “Asher it’s me. She crashed. Get here and clean up the car before the cops do.”
He shoved her into the passenger seat of his own car, slammed the door, and slid behind the wheel. Nova leaned back against the headrest, eyes half-closed, still smiling like she’d won something.
Haesoo’s hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles whitened. This time, he wasn’t letting her slip away.
The drive back was silent, the only sound the engine’s low hum and Nova’s steady breathing beside him. She leaned against the window like nothing had happened, the faintest smile still tugging at her lips.
When they pulled into the driveway, Haesoo cut the engine and immediately hit the lock button before she could reach for the handle. The click of the doors echoed sharp in the quiet night.
“We’re not going in there and waking up Noa,” he said, his voice low but edged with fire. His hands were still tight on the steering wheel, jaw clenched hard. “So you’re going to sit here and tell me what the hell are you thinking? Why are you being reckless like this?”
For the first time, Nova turned her head toward him. The shadows under her eyes were deep, her hair messy from the crash, but her expression was calm, almost careless. She didn’t answer right away, just held his gaze with that dangerous glint he hated and loved in equal measure.
Haesoo’s chest burned, fear and anger twisting together. He couldn’t let her shrug this off not this time.
Nova’s lips curved, not into a smile but something sharper, hollow. “Why?” she repeated softly, almost like she was mocking the word. Her eyes didn’t waver from his. “Because it’s the only time I feel anything. Behind that wheel, it’s just me and the speed. No HQ, no memories, no silence clawing at me when the house goes dark. Just noise and risk. That’s all I have left.”
Haesoo’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his pulse thudding in his ears. “So you’d rather flip that car and die than sit here and fight through it with me?”
Nova looked away then, out toward the sleeping house, her voice flat. “At least if I crash, I’m the one choosing it. Not them. Not anyone else. Me.”
The air inside the car felt heavier than the night outside, pressing down on both of them. Haesoo stared at her, his chest aching with the truth he’d dreaded hearing.
The words hung in the car like broken glass, sharp enough to cut through the silence. Haesoo stared at her profile in the dim glow of the dashboard, his chest tight, every muscle locked.
Nova’s words cut through the car like a blade. At least if I crash, I’m the one choosing it. Not them. Not anyone else. Me.
Haesoo turned fully toward her then, fury and fear twisting in his chest. His voice came out rough, unshaken, every word a command.
“You’re not doing that anymore. Not the racing. Not anything reckless. Do you understand?”
Nova finally looked back at him, her eyes dark, unreadable. For a long moment, she didn’t answer. The silence pressed thick between them, the locked doors holding them both in place.
When she did finally exhale, it wasn’t agreement—it was the faintest curve of her mouth, sharp and tired, like she was daring him to believe he could stop her.
Haesoo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact.
“If you keep doing this,” he said, each word deliberate, “I’ll take Noa and leave. I won’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself. Not in front of her. Not in front of me.”
That got her attention. Her eyes cut to his, the smile fading, replaced by something colder. For a long moment neither of them moved, the weight of his words pressing down harder than the silence.
Nova’s expression didn’t crack. She only stared back, as if testing how far he would go.
Haesoo held her gaze, unflinching. “This isn’t a game. You keep pushing, and you’ll lose us.”
The car went quiet again, but the tension lingered sharp and unbroken, their daughter asleep inside the house while everything else between them threatened to split apart.
Haesoo’s words cut through the silence, steady and unshaken.
“If you keep doing this, I’ll take Noa and leave. I won’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself. Not in front of her. Not in front of me.”
Nova turned her head, the faint smile gone. Her face was cold, her eyes glass, unreadable.
“You won’t,” she said flatly.
Haesoo leaned in closer, his voice rough, low, and deadly serious.
“I will, Nova. Don’t test me.”
For a long moment, neither of them moved, the air thick with the weight of his threat. The only sound was the faint tick of the cooling engine, sharp in the quiet night.
Nova’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer. She only leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes as if dismissing him. “Drive us in. Noa’s asleep.”
And just like that, the night ended, nothing fixed, everything fragile.
They sat in the car for what felt like forever, the house silent around them, the weight of unspoken words pressing harder than the night itself. Nova leaned back with her eyes closed, dismissing him like she always did when she didn’t want to answer.
That was what finally snapped something inside Haesoo.
He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the sharp sound breaking the silence. His voice came rough, sharp-edged.
“You don’t believe me, do you? You think I won’t follow through?”
Nova’s eyes opened slowly, calm and cold, like she was studying a child throwing a tantrum.
Haesoo’s chest burned. He leaned closer, his voice dropping low and dangerous.
“Don’t dare me, Nova. If I catch you doing this again, I will take Noa from you. I won’t let her grow up watching her mother throw her life away.”
Her gaze didn’t flinch, but the tension in the air thickened. For once, even she didn’t have an answer ready.
The engine ticked in the silence, both of them locked in the kind of standoff that promised nothing was ending here only starting.
They returned from Alaska in silence. The jet touched down, the SUV carried them home, and though everything looked the same, Haesoo knew something had shifted inside Nova. He didn’t press her, not yet.
For the next few days, life settled into a strange rhythm. SOL7 had two weeks off, and the house was unusually still without rehearsals or promotions pulling them apart. Nova filled the quiet with movement. She rose early, made breakfast, then lunch, then dinner—plates set neatly in front of Haesoo, Poppy, and Noa as if the act of feeding them was enough to keep the storm at bay.
Sometimes she ate with them, but more often she only pushed food around her plate, biting here and there before claiming she was full. Haesoo noticed every detail—the untouched rice, the half-sipped Coke Zero, the way her fork tapped against the edge of the dish when she thought no one was watching.
Poppy seemed steadier after Alaska, sharper even, like surviving her renewal had hardened her resolve. But Nova… she was different. It wasn’t the kind of change anyone else would see, but Haesoo felt it in the small silences, in the way her eyes stayed too long on the window, or in the way she went still when Noa laughed, as if the sound reminded her of something she couldn’t hold on to.
He wanted to ask, wanted to drag the truth out of her the way he had before. But Nova was still trying still cooking, still tucking Noa into bed, still carrying herself like nothing had broken. So he stayed quiet. For now.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Haesoo would wake to find her still awake, lying stiff beside him, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if she was waiting for something to fall out of it. She never spoke, never moved when she realized he was watching.
He didn’t press her. Instead, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer until her back pressed against his chest, until her shallow breaths matched the slow rhythm of his own. If she couldn’t sleep, then at least she wouldn’t be alone in the dark.
But he saw it. The way her skin had grown pale, how the shadows under her eyes deepened by the day. She still got up, still cooked, still carried Noa on her hip like nothing was wrong but the signs were there. Nova wasn’t resting, not really. And the longer he watched her fight silently against whatever haunted her, the more it twisted inside him that he didn’t know how to stop it.
The next few days, Nova seemed different. Brighter somehow, more alert, her steps lighter in the kitchen as she moved between the stove and the table. She smiled more, little flickers at things Poppy said or when Noa clapped her hands and squealed. Haesoo didn’t understand what had shifted inside her, but he didn’t question it. For once, seeing her laugh felt like enough.
Until one night.
He woke to cold sheets at his side, the space where she should’ve been empty. Pushing himself up, he glanced around the darkened house silent, still. No Nova. A flicker of unease passed through him as he checked downstairs. Her shoes were gone. So was her car.
Haesoo waited. Minutes dragged into an hour before the soft hum of the Mercedes cut through the quiet. He sat at the table, arms folded, as Nova slipped back inside.
She looked different cheeks faintly flushed, eyes alive in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Where did you go?” he asked carefully, searching her face.
Nova’s smile was soft, almost playful. “Convenience store. I couldn’t sleep, so I bought ice cream.” She tilted her head, a faint glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. “I ate it there.”
She didn’t explain more, and Haesoo didn’t press. But something in her happiness felt sharp, restless like she had found a secret she wasn’t ready to share.
The next few nights followed the same pattern. Haesoo would wake to find her gone, the space beside him cold, the hum of the Mercedes missing from the driveway. At first, he told himself it was harmless maybe she couldn’t sleep and slipped out for another convenience store run, another ice cream eaten under the buzz of fluorescent lights.
But then she started coming back different.
Her cheeks flushed, hair windswept, a faint edge clinging to her like static. And the smell sharp, undeniable the stench of burned rubber trailing faintly from her clothes, the kind that no convenience store could explain.
She would slide under the covers beside him without a word, her body still humming with energy, her lips curving into the smallest, satisfied smile. Haesoo lay awake, heart heavy, realization sinking deeper with every night: whatever she was chasing out there, it wasn’t ice cream.
The next evening, when Nova slipped out to put Noa down, Haesoo grabbed his keys.
“I’m going to grab some snacks,” he called casually, but his chest was tight as he stepped out the door.
Instead of turning toward the corner store, he drove across town, pulling into the familiar driveway of Asher’s house. The lights were still on; Asher opened the door before Haesoo even knocked, brows furrowed at the late visit.
Inside, Haesoo told him everything how Nova had been leaving in the middle of the night, coming back flushed and restless, her car reeking of burned rubber. How at first he believed her stories about ice cream, until the lies became too sharp to ignore.
Asher leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. He didn’t look surprised, not really. “She’s restless,” he muttered, more to himself than to Haesoo. Then his eyes sharpened. “When she leaves again, call me. I’ll follow her. You need to know what she’s doing before it gets worse.”
Haesoo nodded, tension pulling through his shoulders. He hated it the secrecy, the way she was slipping out of reach but he couldn’t deny the relief of having someone else in on it.
That night, Haesoo didn’t sleep. He lay still, waiting, every nerve wound tight until he heard the faint creak of the floorboards and the quiet click of the front door. Minutes later, the low growl of the Mercedes cut through the night.
He reached for his phone immediately, dialing Asher. “She just left.”
“I’m close,” Asher replied, his voice steady. “Stay on the line.”
Haesoo sat in the dark, the phone pressed tight to his ear, his heart pounding with every update Asher gave.
“She’s driving reckless,” Asher muttered, engine noise humming faintly through the call. “It’s raining, roads are slick she doesn’t care. She’s weaving like she wants the car to fly apart.”
Haesoo clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the nightstand. “What the hell is she doing?”
There was a pause, Asher’s voice low but certain when it came. “I know what this is. She’s not just driving. She’s racing. Underground.”
The words hit like a stone to the chest. Haesoo shut his eyes, exhaling hard, the image of Nova behind the wheel sharp and dangerous in his mind.
“Asher?” Haesoo pressed, his grip tight on the phone.
On the other end, Asher’s voice dropped lower, edged with something between disbelief and frustration. “She pulled into a lot. There’s a bunch of cars here… a crowd too. Looks like they’ve been waiting.”
Haesoo’s pulse kicked harder. “Waiting for what?”
“For her.” Asher’s sigh crackled through the speaker. “She’s lining up against another driver. This isn’t just joyriding she’s racing them. Full-on underground.”
Haesoo froze in the dark bedroom, the silence of the house clashing with the image Asher painted: neon lights, exhaust smoke, strangers crowding around while Nova sat cool behind the wheel like it was nothing.
“She doesn’t even look nervous,” Asher went on, a bitter edge in his tone. “She looks… alive.”
Haesoo shut his eyes, chest heavy. He’d seen Nova many ways furious, tender, broken, strong but this? This was something else entirely.
Through the phone, Haesoo heard the roar of engines in the background, Asher’s voice cutting in and out with static.
“They’re starting,” Asher muttered. “Two cars side by side she’s in it for real.”
Haesoo’s heart hammered in his throat. He could picture her perfectly: hands tight on the wheel, eyes sharp, no hesitation.
Then Asher swore under his breath. “Dammit, Nova her car just spun out of control on the turn. She almost lost it.”
Haesoo shot up from the bed, gripping the phone tighter. “What happened?!”
“She caught it,” Asher snapped quickly. “Straightened out. And… she won. She actually won.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of it. Haesoo sank back down, his chest twisting at the thought of her risking everything for a thrill.
Asher’s tone hardened. “Listen to me. Don’t confront her. Not yet. She won’t hear it from you. I’ll shut this down another way I’ll tip off the police, get patrol cars circling this area. It’ll be harder for her to race if she thinks the heat’s here.”
Haesoo stayed quiet, his breath rough, torn between relief she was safe and fury that she’d been so close to losing it all.
“Trust me,” Asher said firmly, “this is the only way to cut her off before she destroys herself.”
Haesoo closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if she finds another way?”
“She will,” Asher admitted, his voice heavy. “But at least this buys us time. Time to figure out how to pull her back.”
The sound of engines faded, replaced by the hum of tires on asphalt. Asher spoke again, lower this time. “She’s on her way home. Play it cool. If she thinks you’re watching, she’ll only get better at hiding.”
Minutes later, Haesoo heard the Mercedes slip back into the driveway. He quickly ended the call and slid into bed, pulling the blanket over himself as the door opened softly. Nova padded in, her steps light, and slipped beneath the sheets without a word.
Her skin was still warm from adrenaline, her breathing quick, steady. She lay on her side, smiling faintly like a secret she didn’t need to share.
Haesoo stared into the dark, every nerve pulled taut, holding her against him as though his arms alone could keep her from spinning out again.
Haesoo stayed still, his arm draped around her waist, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. She looked peaceful, almost content, as if the night had given her something he couldn’t.
But he couldn’t close his eyes. Not after what he’d heard. Not with the smell of burned rubber still clinging faintly to her hair.
Nova drifted off easily, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Haesoo lay wide awake beside her, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the truth pressing heavier with every passing minute.
She wasn’t running to escape anymore. She was running to feel alive.
And if he didn’t find a way to stop it, she was going to burn herself out.
The next day, Nova was back to her old rhythm—barely touching her meals, pacing at night, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. She had no idea that Asher had already cut off the circuit she’d been racing in.
Two nights later, she found another one.
Haesoo woke the moment the front door clicked shut. He stood there in the dark for a long second, jaw tight, then crossed the hall to the small room downstairs where Poppy was staying. She stirred as he pushed the door open.
“I’m going out,” he said quietly. “Just so you know—you’re alone here with Noa in the house.”
Poppy rubbed her eyes, sitting up halfway. “Is everything—”
“Don’t ask,” Haesoo cut in gently. “Just stay with her.”
She nodded, worry flickering in her expression, but she didn’t press.
Haesoo slipped out and caught up to Nova easily, following the sleek outline of her Mercedes as it threaded its way through the sleeping city. He trailed her to another abandoned stretch where headlights glared and engines snarled, a crowd already gathered.
He watched in disbelief as she lined up again, cool and unflinching, ready to throw herself into another race. The engines roared, the signal dropped, and the cars shot forward.
On the second turn, disaster hit the other car clipped her back end, and Nova’s Mercedes spun wildly, flipping onto its side with a scream of metal.
“Nova!”
Haesoo was out of his car before it even stopped moving, shoving through the stunned crowd. He yanked the twisted door open and dragged her out, glass and smoke biting his skin. Nova stumbled against him, scraped and bruised but alive, eyes glittering with adrenaline like it was a victory.
“You’re done,” Haesoo snapped, voice shaking with rage and terror.
She only smirked faintly, breathless, as if he couldn’t understand what she’d found out here.
Haesoo pulled out his phone with one hand, still gripping her with the other. “Asher it’s me. She crashed. Get here and clean up the car before the cops do.”
He shoved her into the passenger seat of his own car, slammed the door, and slid behind the wheel. Nova leaned back against the headrest, eyes half-closed, still smiling like she’d won something.
Haesoo’s hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles whitened. This time, he wasn’t letting her slip away.
The drive back was silent, the only sound the engine’s low hum and Nova’s steady breathing beside him. She leaned against the window like nothing had happened, the faintest smile still tugging at her lips.
When they pulled into the driveway, Haesoo cut the engine and immediately hit the lock button before she could reach for the handle. The click of the doors echoed sharp in the quiet night.
“We’re not going in there and waking up Noa,” he said, his voice low but edged with fire. His hands were still tight on the steering wheel, jaw clenched hard. “So you’re going to sit here and tell me what the hell are you thinking? Why are you being reckless like this?”
For the first time, Nova turned her head toward him. The shadows under her eyes were deep, her hair messy from the crash, but her expression was calm, almost careless. She didn’t answer right away, just held his gaze with that dangerous glint he hated and loved in equal measure.
Haesoo’s chest burned, fear and anger twisting together. He couldn’t let her shrug this off not this time.
Nova’s lips curved, not into a smile but something sharper, hollow. “Why?” she repeated softly, almost like she was mocking the word. Her eyes didn’t waver from his. “Because it’s the only time I feel anything. Behind that wheel, it’s just me and the speed. No HQ, no memories, no silence clawing at me when the house goes dark. Just noise and risk. That’s all I have left.”
Haesoo’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his pulse thudding in his ears. “So you’d rather flip that car and die than sit here and fight through it with me?”
Nova looked away then, out toward the sleeping house, her voice flat. “At least if I crash, I’m the one choosing it. Not them. Not anyone else. Me.”
The air inside the car felt heavier than the night outside, pressing down on both of them. Haesoo stared at her, his chest aching with the truth he’d dreaded hearing.
The words hung in the car like broken glass, sharp enough to cut through the silence. Haesoo stared at her profile in the dim glow of the dashboard, his chest tight, every muscle locked.
Nova’s words cut through the car like a blade. At least if I crash, I’m the one choosing it. Not them. Not anyone else. Me.
Haesoo turned fully toward her then, fury and fear twisting in his chest. His voice came out rough, unshaken, every word a command.
“You’re not doing that anymore. Not the racing. Not anything reckless. Do you understand?”
Nova finally looked back at him, her eyes dark, unreadable. For a long moment, she didn’t answer. The silence pressed thick between them, the locked doors holding them both in place.
When she did finally exhale, it wasn’t agreement—it was the faintest curve of her mouth, sharp and tired, like she was daring him to believe he could stop her.
Haesoo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact.
“If you keep doing this,” he said, each word deliberate, “I’ll take Noa and leave. I won’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself. Not in front of her. Not in front of me.”
That got her attention. Her eyes cut to his, the smile fading, replaced by something colder. For a long moment neither of them moved, the weight of his words pressing down harder than the silence.
Nova’s expression didn’t crack. She only stared back, as if testing how far he would go.
Haesoo held her gaze, unflinching. “This isn’t a game. You keep pushing, and you’ll lose us.”
The car went quiet again, but the tension lingered sharp and unbroken, their daughter asleep inside the house while everything else between them threatened to split apart.
Haesoo’s words cut through the silence, steady and unshaken.
“If you keep doing this, I’ll take Noa and leave. I won’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself. Not in front of her. Not in front of me.”
Nova turned her head, the faint smile gone. Her face was cold, her eyes glass, unreadable.
“You won’t,” she said flatly.
Haesoo leaned in closer, his voice rough, low, and deadly serious.
“I will, Nova. Don’t test me.”
For a long moment, neither of them moved, the air thick with the weight of his threat. The only sound was the faint tick of the cooling engine, sharp in the quiet night.
Nova’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer. She only leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes as if dismissing him. “Drive us in. Noa’s asleep.”
And just like that, the night ended, nothing fixed, everything fragile.
They sat in the car for what felt like forever, the house silent around them, the weight of unspoken words pressing harder than the night itself. Nova leaned back with her eyes closed, dismissing him like she always did when she didn’t want to answer.
That was what finally snapped something inside Haesoo.
He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the sharp sound breaking the silence. His voice came rough, sharp-edged.
“You don’t believe me, do you? You think I won’t follow through?”
Nova’s eyes opened slowly, calm and cold, like she was studying a child throwing a tantrum.
Haesoo’s chest burned. He leaned closer, his voice dropping low and dangerous.
“Don’t dare me, Nova. If I catch you doing this again, I will take Noa from you. I won’t let her grow up watching her mother throw her life away.”
Her gaze didn’t flinch, but the tension in the air thickened. For once, even she didn’t have an answer ready.
The engine ticked in the silence, both of them locked in the kind of standoff that promised nothing was ending here only starting.
They finally went inside, the house still and quiet, both of them moving without a word. Nova disappeared into the bedroom, slipping under the covers as if nothing had happened. Haesoo lay beside her, but he didn’t sleep.
The next day, after breakfast, Haesoo strapped Noa into her car seat and drove straight to Asher’s house. He carried the little girl in, her tiny hands clutching her bear, before setting her down in the playpen Asher kept in the corner.
Asher raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “What happened?”
Haesoo’s voice was heavy, clipped. “She isn’t going to stop. I threatened to take Noa and leave if she kept doing it… and she just looked at me and said I won’t.” His jaw clenched, the memory still burning in him. “She doesn’t believe I’ll do it.”
Asher studied him for a long moment, then leaned forward, his tone sharper than usual. “Then show her. Hold your word. If she does it again, don’t warn her—just leave. Take Noa and go without telling her. Maybe that’s the only way she’ll snap out of it.”
Haesoo looked down at Noa, who was happily babbling to her bear, oblivious to the storm surrounding her. His chest tightened. He hated the thought of walking out. But he hated even more the thought of Nova laughing in the face of his warnings, daring herself closer to destruction.
Asher leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. His eyes softened, just for a moment. “It took her a while to get here. Longer than I expected, honestly.”
Haesoo looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I know what this is,” Asher said, his tone quieter now. “After our freedom… I spiraled too. Except mine was a bottle. Drinking nonstop until I couldn’t feel anything. That was how I burned it out of me. Now it’s her turn. She’s not drinking—she’s driving herself into walls instead.” He paused, his gaze steady on Haesoo. “But it’s the same thing. It’s pain with nowhere to go.”
Haesoo’s throat tightened. He hated how true it sounded.
Asher sighed, crossing his arms again. “She needs to come back on her own, but she can’t do it without something to shock her out of it. If she thinks you’re bluffing, she’ll keep going until she destroys herself. You don’t want to lose her, and I don’t either—but right now she’s not choosing us. She’s choosing the spiral.”
Noa cooed from the playpen, clapping her little hands at nothing, the sound cutting through the heavy words like a reminder of what was really at stake.
Haesoo swallowed hard and nodded once. “Then I’ll show her.”
Later that night, the pattern repeated. Haesoo woke to the quiet thud of the door, but this time it wasn’t the hum of the Mercedes that followed—it was the sharp growl of Nova’s motorcycle tearing into the night.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, staring at the empty space she’d left behind, Asher’s words echoing in his head. If she thinks you’re bluffing, she’ll keep going until she destroys herself.
His chest tightened, but his hands moved on their own. He grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and began to pack—diapers, clothes for Noa, her favorite bear, a handful of his own things. Only the necessities. No hesitation.
Minutes later, he lifted Noa from her crib, the little girl stirring but not waking, her tiny fists curling against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, whispering a quiet apology she couldn’t hear.
By the time Nova’s motorcycle was lost to the distance, Haesoo was pulling into Asher’s driveway. The door opened before he even knocked, Asher already on edge.
Haesoo shifted the duffel bag higher on his shoulder, Noa asleep against him. His voice was low, rough, but certain.
“I did it. I left her.”
Asher’s gaze dropped to the child in Haesoo’s arms, then back up to the fury and hurt etched across his face. He gave one slow nod, stepping aside to let them in.
The roar of the motorcycle faded as Nova pulled into the driveway, the engine cutting off sharp against the stillness of the night. She stepped inside, helmet in hand, her pulse still buzzing with leftover adrenaline.
The house was silent—eerily so.
She walked through the hall, her boots soft against the floorboards, every step amplifying the quiet. By instinct, she headed straight to the nursery.
Her chest went cold the second she pushed the door open. The crib was empty. The blanket folded neatly at the edge. Noa’s bear was gone.
Nova’s throat tightened. She moved quickly to the bedroom empty. The closet half of Haesoo’s things missing.
It sank in like ice through her veins.
Haesoo was gone. And he had taken Noa with him.
The silence of the house pressed in heavy, suffocating. For the first time in years, Nova’s knees threatened to give out. The walls felt cavernous, echoing with everything she’d tried not to lose.
He had done exactly what he promised.
He left her.
Nova’s chest seized, her breaths coming shallow and ragged. She gripped the nursery doorframe, nails biting into the wood as the weight of it crashed over her.
Her vision blurred. The walls seemed to close in, the silence pressing tighter, crueler. Her knees buckled and she stumbled to the floor, hands shaking uncontrollably.
It was happening the thing she had always known was coming.
Haesoo was gone.
She had told herself it was inevitable, hadn’t she? That one day he would realize she was too much to handle the sleepless nights, the scars she couldn’t hide, the fire she couldn’t put out. Something deep inside her had hoped, stupidly, that he might be different. That maybe he would stay.
But no one could love a broken person like her.
The truth echoed inside her like a cruel chant, each breath sharper, harder to drag in. She pressed her fists to her chest as if she could hold herself together, but the sob broke free anyway, harsh and unfamiliar.
She had survived HQ. She had survived pain that should’ve killed her. But this? Haesoo’s absence, Noa’s empty crib this felt like the one thing she couldn’t survive.
Her breathing grew sharper, the walls around her tilting as if the whole house was shifting under her weight. She pressed her palms to the floor, trying to ground herself, but the silence only opened the door wider for the shadows she had spent years trying to bury.
Images ripped through her memories she had locked away so tightly she thought they were gone forever.
The cold metal of restraints biting into her wrists. The blinding fluorescent lights overhead. Voices taunting, testing, telling her she was property, nothing more than an asset that could be broken and rebuilt. The endless hours without sleep, the taste of blood in her mouth, the sharp burn of ice water poured over her skin until she went numb.
She couldn’t remember coming back from some of it those days when her body moved but her mind was gone, when survival meant pretending she wasn’t even alive. She had blocked it out, shoved it so far down she thought it no longer existed. But now, with Haesoo gone and Noa’s crib empty, it all clawed its way back.
Her breath hitched into a sob. She curled onto the floor, clutching her sides as if she could shield herself from ghosts that weren’t really there.
The panic tangled with the memories until she couldn’t tell the difference. Was she in her living room, or was she back in HQ’s cold chamber? Was the silence her house at midnight, or was it the suffocating quiet after a handler left her chained to the dark?
She didn’t know anymore. She only knew she was alone.
And deep down, some part of her had always believed this was how it would end.
Nova’s chest heaved, her mind collapsing under the weight of memories she couldn’t keep buried. The house no longer felt safe—it was a cage, every shadow whispering of chains and handlers, of things she thought she’d outrun. Her body moved before her thoughts could catch up.
She staggered to the garage, hands trembling as she grabbed her helmet. The motorcycle roared to life, the sound shaking through her bones like the only anchor she had left. She tore down the street, no destination in mind, just speed—fast, faster, as if the wind ripping at her skin could tear the ghosts out of her.
The spiral consumed her. Tears blurred the road. She pushed harder, past reason, past control.
The crash came like an answer. Metal shrieked, her body thrown, the world spinning into darkness.
Far from the wreck, in a silent bunker lined with screens, HQ’s systems lit up. Her old signal—the one she’d never been able to shake completely—flared red across their monitors.
“Target located,” a voice clipped. “Reacquire.”
By the time dawn touched the coast, HQ had her.
She was strapped to a gurney, monitors beeping faintly against her chest. Off the coast of California, in a facility she once swore she’d never see again, they began their work.
Tests. Bloodwork. Probes for endurance.
But something was wrong. She wasn’t recovering like before—her body slower to heal, her strength blunted by the spiral she’d driven herself into.
HQ didn’t care.
They had her back in their possession.
And this time, no one else even knew she was gone.
The next morning, Haesoo was at Asher’s kitchen table with Noa in his lap when his phone buzzed. Poppy’s name lit the screen.
He answered, voice low. “What’s wrong?”
“Where is everyone?” Poppy’s voice was sharp, tight with unease.
“I left with Noa,” Haesoo said, glancing toward the playpen where his daughter now sat babbling softly to her bear. “Isn’t Nova there?”
There was silence on the line. Then Poppy’s voice dropped. “No. She’s not here.”
Haesoo’s chest clenched. “What do you mean she’s not—”
“Wait,” Poppy cut in. He heard her moving, a door creaking, the soft static of a monitor. Then, after a beat, her voice came back, strained. “I checked the cameras. She came back last night, but she left again. She… she never returned.”
Haesoo froze, the blood draining from his face. His grip tightened around the phone as his other hand pressed against the edge of the table to steady himself.
“She’s gone,” Poppy whispered, the words thin with disbelief. “I don’t know where, but she didn’t come back.”
Haesoo’s heart slammed in his chest, the weight of his worst fear pressing down like stone.
Haesoo ended the call and moved quickly into the living room. Asher was on the floor with Noa, letting her stack blocks and knock them over again, her giggles echoing through the quiet house.
Haesoo’s voice came out rough. “Nova didn’t come back last night.”
Asher looked up instantly, his expression hardening. “What do you mean she didn’t come back?”
“Poppy checked the cameras,” Haesoo said, running a hand through his hair. “She came home, then left again. She never returned.”
Asher stood, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “Let me see if I can still track her.” He tapped quickly, eyes narrowing at the screen.
A long beat passed. Then his jaw tightened. “That’s… weird. I can’t track her.”
Haesoo’s stomach dropped. “You were able to yesterday.”
“Exactly.” Asher’s gaze lifted, sharp. “Someone overrode the signal.” His voice went cold, final. “I don’t think she left on her own. Someone took her.”
Haesoo felt the room tilt, the sound of Noa’s laughter suddenly too bright against the weight of Asher’s words.
Haesoo’s chest seized, the words echoing like a hammer in his skull. Someone took her.
He staggered back a step, hands shaking as he dragged them through his hair. “This is my fault,” he muttered, voice breaking. “I left her, Asher. She wouldn’t have gone out again if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t walked away with Noa.”
Asher stepped forward quickly, his voice sharp. “Haesoo—”
“No,” Haesoo snapped, breath coming too fast, his pulse slamming against his ribs. “I left her! I told her I’d take Noa and I did, and now she’s—” His words tangled, raw panic spilling out faster than he could hold it down. “She wouldn’t have left if I stayed. She wouldn’t have been out there. This is on me!”
Noa babbled from the floor, knocking over the tower of blocks again, her small laughter clashing painfully against Haesoo’s spiraling guilt.
Asher’s jaw tightened. He caught Haesoo by the shoulders, steadying him. “Listen to me. This isn’t on you. You did what you had to. If someone has her, then we figure out who and where. Blaming yourself won’t bring her back.”
But Haesoo shook his head, eyes burning. “I promised her I wouldn’t leave. And the first time I did, she was taken.”
Asher’s grip stayed firm on Haesoo’s shoulders. His voice was steady, but his eyes were sharp, calculating.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “If someone got her, they couldn’t have kept her. Nova’s too powerful. She could’ve teleported out of anything they tried. Unless…” His words trailed off, suspicion cutting in.
Haesoo’s breath caught. “Unless what?”
Asher let go of him and moved fast toward his laptop on the counter. “Unless they knew how to trap her. But I need proof first.” His fingers flew across the keys as he pulled up system feeds.
Minutes stretched, the only sounds the quiet clatter of keys and Noa’s soft babble in the background. Then Asher froze, his face darkening.
“What is it?” Haesoo pressed, chest tight.
Asher exhaled hard, his jaw clenching. “All CCTV footage from last night is gone. Not just the house every single camera in Korea. Wiped clean.”
Haesoo’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean all?”
“I mean someone erased every trace of her leaving.” Asher’s voice was flat, grim. “Whoever took her… they were prepared. And they don’t want anyone knowing where she went.”
The weight of it sank in heavy, heavier than anything Haesoo had felt before.
Nova wasn’t just gone.
She’d been erased.
Asher pushed the laptop away, dragging a hand down his face. His voice came out low, clipped, but there was an edge of unease that Haesoo had never heard from him before.
“This has to be someone huge,” he muttered. “To wipe every CCTV feed in Korea? That doesn’t happen in seconds—it takes time, manpower, reach. And Nova couldn’t have done it. Not last night. She didn’t even have the equipment on her when she left.”
Haesoo’s fists tightened at his sides. “So you’re saying—”
“I’m saying this isn’t her,” Asher cut him off. His gaze lifted, sharp and heavy. “There’s someone bigger behind this. Someone who knew exactly how to take her, how to erase her, and how to make sure we couldn’t trace a single step.”
Haesoo’s stomach dropped, the floor beneath him feeling unsteady. He’d thought she’d spiraled out of control on her own, but this… this was worse.
“Someone wanted her,” Asher said grimly. “And they had the power to get her.”
Haesoo’s voice cracked as the thought slipped out. “Could HQ have taken her back?”
The words hung heavy, and even saying them made his stomach twist.
Asher’s expression darkened, but he didn’t dismiss it. “We don’t know,” he said firmly. “But we’re going to find out.” He snapped the laptop shut, his tone leaving no room for argument.
He glanced toward the playpen where Noa sat happily chewing on her bear’s ear, oblivious to the storm around her. Then his eyes shifted back to Haesoo, sharp and resolute. “We’ll have Poppy watch Noa. You and I—” he paused, jaw tight. “We head back to HQ.”
Haesoo’s pulse slammed in his chest, the thought of returning to that place burning against every instinct. But if Nova was there if they had her he wasn’t staying behind.
He nodded once, his voice low. “Then we go.”
Asher didn’t waste time. He went straight to his room, pulling out a duffle bag and packing with quick, sharp movements—clothes, weapons, encrypted tech he hadn’t used in years. “We’re not going in blind,” he muttered, more to himself than to Haesoo.
When the bag was zipped, he grabbed his phone and made a single call. “Get the jet ready. We leave within the hour.” His tone left no room for delay.
Minutes later, they were in the car, Noa strapped safely into her seat. Haesoo drove, his knuckles white on the wheel, every glance at his daughter’s reflection in the rearview mirror pulling his chest tighter. She deserved her mother. She deserved both of them.
The house came into view. Poppy was already waiting at the door, her hair messy, worry written all over her face. She rushed forward as Haesoo lifted Noa out, pressing her into Poppy’s arms.
“Stay with her,” Haesoo said, his voice firm. “Security will be outside. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
Poppy nodded quickly, hugging the little girl close. “Just bring her back.”
Haesoo swallowed hard, his hand lingering on Noa’s back before he forced himself to let go.
Security was already lined up, two SUVs waiting. They loaded the bags, slid into the seats, and within minutes were on their way to the private airstrip.
The jet’s lights glowed faintly in the dark, engines humming as the crew prepared for departure.
Asher clapped a hand to Haesoo’s shoulder as they walked toward it, both of them silent but carrying the same weight.
They were going back to HQ.
And this time, neither of them would leave without Nova.
The jet cut smoothly through the night sky, the steady hum of the engines filling the cabin. Haesoo sat stiff in his seat, staring out the window but seeing nothing—his thoughts caught on Nova, the image of her empty side of the bed, her empty smile, her empty crib.
Across from him, Asher leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, his tone sharp but uneasy.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “HQ letting her go free in the first place. That was never their way. And even if they did trap her now… they know they can’t contain her. Not unless…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “There has to be something else happening.”
Haesoo dragged his gaze from the window, his jaw tight. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying if HQ really has her, they wouldn’t just hold her. They’d use her. They’d never waste a weapon like Nova unless something bigger is at play.” Asher’s eyes hardened. “And if that’s true, then we’re walking into more than just a recovery mission.”
Haesoo’s chest clenched. “Then what the hell do we do?”
Asher leaned back, his voice low, certain. “We go in ready for anything. Because if HQ wanted her badly enough to erase an entire country’s worth of cameras… then this isn’t just about getting her back. It’s about finding out what they’re planning to do with her.”
The silence that followed was heavy, the truth pressing harder than the hum of the jet.
The cabin lights dimmed as the jet began its slow descent. Haesoo sat rigid, fists pressed against his knees, his pulse pounding with every mile closer they got to HQ.
Asher adjusted his watch, calm in the way only he could be, though his eyes carried the same weight. He glanced at Haesoo. “When we land, let me do the talking.”
Haesoo’s head snapped toward him. “Why?”
“Because we aren’t HQ agents anymore,” Asher said evenly. “We burned those bridges when we walked away. They won’t let us in easily—not without suspicion, not without leverage.” He leaned in closer, his tone sharp. “If you push too hard, they’ll lock us out. Or worse, they’ll make sure we never see her.”
Haesoo swallowed, his throat tight, every muscle straining against the need to fight.
Asher’s gaze didn’t waver. “If she’s here, we’ll get her back. But we have to play this right.”
The jet dipped lower, the coastline coming into view, a jagged black shadow against the Pacific. The facility’s lights gleamed like a wound in the dark.
Haesoo clenched his jaw, nodding once. “Fine. You talk. Just get me to her.”
Asher’s voice dropped low, final. “That’s the plan.”
The jet touched down on the private strip, and within the hour, Haesoo and Asher were walking through the cold steel halls of HQ’s outer compound. Security eyes followed them, suspicion sharp in every glance. But Asher knew where to go.
He cut down a corridor and stopped in front of a man in a pressed suit—one of HQ’s higher-ups, a figure Haesoo vaguely remembered from years past. The man stiffened when he saw them, but Asher leaned in close, his voice low.
“Not here. Follow me.”
The man’s jaw tightened, but he led them quickly toward a staircase at the far end of the hall. The three of them slipped down into the dim-lit stairwell, the heavy door shutting behind them.
Only then did the man speak. His voice was clipped, urgent. “Yes. Nova is here.”
Haesoo’s chest constricted, his fists curling tight, but he held himself still.
The man went on, eyes darting between them. “We got a signal she went down. When we recovered her… she wasn’t healing like she’s supposed to. Slower. We don’t know why.”
Haesoo’s breath caught, his mind flashing with the crash, with her pale face those last few nights.
The man lowered his voice even further. “That’s why we erased all CCTV. If this gets out if any of her enemies know she’s weak they’ll come for her. Every single one. She won’t stand a chance.”
The words struck like a blade. For the first time, Haesoo realized the danger wasn’t just HQ holding her it was the world finding out that Nova Reyes could bleed.
The higher-up’s expression hardened, his voice lowering to almost a whisper.
“We’ve been running tests on her bloodwork, scans, everything. We needed to know if something deeper was wrong apart from the damage she took in the crash.”
Haesoo’s fists clenched. “And?”
“Nothing has come out,” the man admitted, shaking his head. “No irregularities. No poisons. No signs of interference. Physically, she should be healing. But…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking between them. “She hasn’t woken up since the accident. So we can’t ask her questions. We don’t know what she felt, what she saw, or why her recovery has slowed.”
The words landed like stone in Haesoo’s chest. The thought of Nova unmoving, silent, trapped in HQ’s sterile halls made his skin crawl.
The higher-up exhaled heavily. “Until she wakes, all we can do is keep her stable. But the fact she hasn’t opened her eyes yet… that’s what has everyone worried.”
Haesoo’s pulse roared in his ears. Every instinct screamed to tear the doors open, to get to her now, to shake her awake himself.
