.
The safe house was a world of whispers and slow, deliberate healing. It was a small, secluded cabin in the Korean countryside, south of Seoul, surrounded by dense forest that reminded them both of a different time, a different kind of hiding. But here, the air was free, and the only enemy was the one within.
Jun’s body was a map of his suffering. The bruises had faded to yellow-green shadows, but the deeper wounds—the broken rib, the malnutrition, the systemic exhaustion—were slower to mend. Yet, it was the silence that worried Yuna the most. The vibrant, commanding presence of Captain Ryu Jun had been replaced by a hollowed-out quiet. He slept for hours, a deep, comatose sleep from which he would wake disoriented and wary. When awake, he would often just sit by the window, staring out
