Let ME DIE

CONTENT WARNING

This story is a Dark Romance with a Mature rating. It contains sensitive themes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, including:

Extreme obsessive and possessive behavior (stalking)

Psychological and emotional manipulation

Mental conflict and psychological tension

Depictions of fictional violence

Reader’s Policy: This story is intended for readers aged 18 and over. The author does not support or condone any toxic/criminal actions committed by the characters in this story. Please read wisely.

Let go..

Part 1: The Maze of Embers and the Lost Shoe

That night, the sky above the Gangwon mountains was no longer its tranquil black. The fierce night wind carried with it the fury of fire, transforming the horizon into a blazing, blood-red canvas. The giant pine trees that had stood strong for years against the storm now surrendered. One by one, they turned into silhouettes of pitch-black charcoal, before finally falling to the ground with a deafening crackle.

CRACK!

Embers shot into the air, accompanied by ash and ashes that flew wildly. Thick, toxic black smoke rose high, enveloping the entire forest in suffocating darkness. The stench of sulfur and charred wood clashed in the air, creating an atmosphere that choked the lungs. Above, beneath the thick soot, the searchlights of police rescue helicopters cut through the night. Their blinding white light moved brutally, combing every inch of the ground beneath them with feverish haste. The heavy rumbling of the propellers seemed to be racing against the clock. But down there, in the maze of thorny bushes that were starting to be licked by fire, Han Jisoo no longer cared whether the helicopter would find her or not. Her heart was beating so fast, pounding against her chest cavity in a painful rhythm. Every breath she took felt like inhaling shards of glass-stinging, hot, and bloody. The luxurious silk bathrobe that had clung to her body just a few hours ago was now torn and lost who knows where. Her body was now clad only in a giant white wedding dress that had lost its purity. The premium brocade from Paris was now tattered, torn down to the knees from being caught on sharp forest branches. Her layered, once beautifully flowing lining now looked pitiful; covered in black soot stains, large tears, and spots of fresh blood that continued to seep from her wounds.

Jisoo continued running. Her bare feet trampled on everything on the ground-sharp mountain rocks, smoldering broken twigs, and even hot clay. Her white satin shoes had been missing since her escape from the back door of the mansion. The skin on her tiny feet had been ripped, leaving bloody footprints in the ash. An excruciating pain tried to numb her nerves, but a greater fear forced her body to keep moving. In her head, there was only one immediate command: get away from that house. Get away from that man. She glanced at the digital watch on her trembling wrist. The numbers on the screen flashed in the darkness of the smoke: 11:56 PM.

Two minutes left. Time was almost up.

BOOMMMMMH!!!

Without warning, a massive explosion reverberated through the night, shaking the very foundations of the ground Jisoo was standing on. The impact of a massive wave of heat and air pressure threw Jisoo’s limp body forward. She was thrown hard, landing face down on a pile of hot, dry pine needles. Her head was spinning, her world was spinning, and her ears were ringing terribly. With the last of her strength remaining on the verge of consciousness, Jisoo turned her body with difficulty. From the ground, she stared blankly behind her. The luxurious modern gothic mansion that stood isolated in the middle of the forest-the majestic castle that for the past few weeks she had thought was her safest refuge-had just exploded into a mess. A giant reddish-orange fire soared tens of meters high, devouring the concrete pillars and collapsing the roof of the luxurious building in seconds. Shards of crystal window glass bounced into the air, sparkling like stars in the middle of the night before finally melting into the embers. Jisoo’s tears flowed freely, wetting her face which was covered in black charcoal streaks. In the embrace of the hot and terrifying night air, it was not the pain in her body that shattered her soul, but the bitter reality about the man she had always adored. The man whom the world had considered flawless. Amidst the roar of the flames and the ringing in his ears, a quiet phrase that people used to say on television echoed in his head, sounding like a cruel taunt.

“Everyone says... he’s an angel...”

Part 2: The Altar Behind the Silk Mask

Seoul, 2019.

Three years before the night when the entire Gangwon forest burned with revenge, Kang Min-ho’s name was the definition of perfection. To the South Korean public, he was more than just a top actor at the peak of his popularity; he was a symbol of kindness, a philanthropist, and now, the most beloved candidate for mayor of Seoul. His handsome face and warm smile were visible everywhere in the city, promising a clean and compassionate future.

That night, in an upscale area of ​​downtown Seoul, the Kang family’s private mansion stood proudly in the darkness. Its magnificent architecture combined white marble walls with tall, European-style pillars. Golden spotlights enveloped the exterior, giving it an air of untouched luxury, yet at the same time, it felt eerily quiet and cold. The place was too sterile from the noise of ordinary human life. Upstairs, in his spacious, soundproofed private study, the atmosphere was dim. The only warm light came from a brass table lamp in the corner. Kang Min-ho sat back in his giant leather chair. His large, muscular frame dominated the quiet room. His formal attire was still immaculate, projecting the image of a gentleman who never lost control of himself. However, if anyone could see into the room now, they would notice something was amiss.

Min-ho’s large, vein-stretched right hand was gripping a smartphone with great force. The white headset cord wound between his fingers, pulled so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if he were holding onto something precious to prevent it from slipping through his grasp. In front of him, a giant glass window displayed the glittering night view of Seoul. However, Min-ho’s dark eyes were tightly closed. He was uninterested in the glittering world outside. Through his headset, a slow melody flowed directly into his mind. His thin lips moved slowly, singing verse after verse in a deep, soft voice, whispering into the cold silence of the room.

His thin lips moved slowly, singing verse after verse in a deep, soft voice, whispering into the cold silence of the room. He sang the verse about a guardian angel descending from heaven, worshipping each line with reverence.

Min-ho opened his eyes slowly. A faint smile curled at the corner of his lips-a lopsided grin that was sharp, cold, and filled with hidden madness. It was a smile he would never allow to appear in front of the cameras of political reporters. Inside his head, distorted by obsession, memories of Han Ji-soo-the girl with the yellow umbrella from his high school days-played over and over like a broken record.

played over and over like a broken record. His voice trembled as he spelled out the words about the love the girl had brought into his dark life.

The phone screen in his hand suddenly lit up brightly, reflecting white light onto his handsome face. It displayed a secret app containing a giant collage of hundreds of photos of Han Ji-soo. These were not legally taken photos. There were photos of Ji-soo walking hurriedly down the sidewalk, photos of Ji-soo crying in exhaustion in front of her old studio’s sewing machine, and even detailed shots of Ji-soo’s hands as she cut out a fabric pattern. Min-ho had Ji-soo’s entire life in his grasp. In the center of the screen, a dynamic audio waveform graphic accompanied the song’s ongoing accompanied by the song’s ongoing lyrics, featuring a wave graphic about a pair of beautiful eyes trapped in the darkest side of the world.

The man began singing Massive Attack’s “Angel.” His deep voice combined with the slow guitar strumming, transforming the room into a cold and mysterious atmosphere.

Outside the room, hurried footsteps shattered the silence of the corridor. A male staff member in a formal suit was seen running up the wooden stairs breathlessly, carrying a folder of important documents related to the mayoral election campaign the next day. But inside the room, Min-ho paid no attention to the knocking on the door or his political affairs. He lifted his head toward the high ceiling. The veins in his strong neck tensed visibly as he took long, deep breaths, as if trying to inhale the scent of Han Ji-soo he longed for through the empty air.

“Love you... love you... love you...” he whispered repeatedly, an obsessive hiss that sounded like the mantra of a dark worshipper.

As the perspective shifted away from his leather chair, the room’s most terrifying secret was finally fully revealed beneath the dim light. The entire marble walls, the supporting concrete pillars, and even the gaps in the ceiling of the giant room were filled with neatly framed photographs of Han Ji-soo’s face in various sizes. Thousands of Ji-soo’s eyes from within the photos seemed to be staring at the chair where Min-ho sat. The room was not a work office for a future city leader; it was a secret altar of worship built from the madness of a predator.

Part 3: Bride of Wax and Blood

CLICK... CRACK.

The creaking sound of the large, thick oak door shattered the silence of the room. Yuujin, an elderly man dressed in a neat black suit with square glasses who served as his chief assistant and trusted executioner, stepped into the room. His footsteps were silent, and his head was bowed deeply, staring at the cement floor. His posture was stiff and submissive, indicating that he knew exactly what kind of monster he was serving behind closed doors.

In another corner of the room, Min-ho was standing in a private boxing ring specially built in his room. His formal shirt had been removed, revealing a lithe, muscular body drenched in sweat. The spotlight above the ring made his muscles glisten, exuding a powerful and dominant masculine aura. His hands, wrapped in white handwraps, seemed to be pounding the punching bag with a slow but powerful rhythm.

Yuujin adjusted his square glasses, a mysterious, cold and stiff smile etched on his wrinkled old face.

“My Lord Hoo... as you wished. He’s here,” Yuujin said in a low, measured voice, reporting that they had successfully brought Han Jisoo into their circle of power in the studio downstairs.

Min-ho stopped his punches immediately. The large punching bag’s movements slowed. Min-ho glanced at Yuujin over his broad shoulder. The dark eyes that usually radiated kindness and false empathy on television had suddenly changed in a split second; they became completely blank, cold, and deadly-the glint of a psychopath who saw his prey had fallen into a trap. Min-ho stepped down from the boxing ring without making a sound. His heavy footsteps moved steadily toward the darkest corner of the room, where a giant black velvet cloth covered something behind a pillar. With a rough tug of his hand, Min-ho pulled the covering off, causing it to fall to the floor.

Behind her stood a life-size mannequin replica, made to perfectly resemble Han Jisoo. The wax figure’s face was meticulously detailed, capturing every curve of Jisoo’s lips and nose, yet her skin was rendered a lifeless, pale white. The replica wore a luxurious, resplendent white silk wedding gown studded with hundreds of diamond sequins that glittered preciously in the darkness.

Min-ho stepped closer, as if his soul had been completely sucked into the figure. His large hand, still wrapped in a handwrap, moved up, and began caressing the wax figure’s thigh with a gentle, slow movement, yet exuding an aura of absolute, insane possession. He closed his eyes, burying his handsome face between the crook of Jisoo’s neck and cool shoulder, kissing her with a thick, frenzied passion as he exhaled heavily.

“Ugh... Jisoo... you make me want to die,” Min-ho hissed, his voice hoarse and tortured by an obsession that had destroyed all his rationality.

Min-ho turned slowly, staring at Yuujin, who was still standing rigidly near the entrance. His eyes glinted with immense satisfaction and delight, knowing that their ploy to trap Jisoo had been a success. However, on the cement floor, just beneath the bottom of the waxwork’s wedding dress lining, were several stains of a mysterious, cloudy liquid that had recently dripped and dried-a dark and disgusting detail that belies the maniacal sexual perversion lurking within the room.

“Take care of this, Yuujin. And get the reporters waiting in front. I’ll be right out,” Min-ho ordered, his voice suddenly returning to its flat, cold, and emotionless tone.

In just a few minutes, the transformation occurred again. Min-ho stood upright in front of the full-length mirror in his private dressing room. He was dressed in a three-piece campaign suit, immaculately neat, expensive, and spotless. His large hands moved with the grace of a nobleman, adjusting the collar of his shirt and silk tie.

In the blink of an eye, all the madness, obsessive sighs, and demonic gaze vanished without a trace. A charming, calming, and authoritative smile tore back from his face. The mask of the beloved “Korean Angel” had been perfectly restored.

He was ready to step out of this hellish room and meet the outside world. He projected the holy image of a future city leader adored by millions, without a single soul knowing that behind his beautiful smile, he was counting down the days to drag his real bride into eternal confinement.

“The world must see their angel before I retrieve my real bride.”