TWIST OF THE BLADE
2220 Words
The first bullet shattered the air like thunder.
Ae-cha dropped instinctively, rolling behind a rusted-out military truck just as the second shot cracked past her ear. Her pulse roared in her head, limbs trembling, but her training snapped into place like clockwork. She peered from cover, breath caught. The training base had transformed into a war zone.
She saw him then—Lee-Chung—his back against a tree, jaw clenched, weapon drawn, eyes scanning for movement. There was blood on his shoulder. He had been hit. Yet he hadn’t called for help. He was waiting… protecting.
For her.
They had barely spoken since the confrontation in the woods. Ae-cha had stormed away, thefk truth hitting her harder than any blow: the man she had begun to trust, to lean on, was the younger brother of Tae—the man who had destroyed her life.
Now, someone was trying to finish the job.
“Two shooters, elevated ridge,” Lee-Chung called, catching her eye. “They knew we were coming.”
“How?” she hissed. “This was just a routine drill!”
“Not anymore.”
He was right. The rest of the platoon had been rerouted last minute—only the two of them had shown up for what was supposed to be night combat training. This was no accident.
Ae-cha’s mind raced, then snapped into focus. She reached under her jacket, retrieving the sleek Glock strapped at her waist. Her hands were steady.
She wasn’t that broken girl anymore.
She was a soldier now.
“Flank right. Draw them out,” she said.
Lee-Chung gave a slight nod, then bolted.
Gunfire rained down, echoing through the dark forest like a storm. Ae-cha sprinted low, weaving through trees, ducking behind a fallen log. She saw movement—a figure with night vision goggles perched atop the ridge, rifle aimed, scanning.
She didn’t hesitate.
Two shots. One scream. The figure fell backward.
One down.
She turned—only to see a shadow rush her. Too fast. She slammed to the ground, her pistol skittering away into the underbrush.
A boot crushed her wrist.
“Didn’t think we’d find you again, did you?” a man growled, pressing the barrel of his gun against her temple. His face was masked, but that voice—it was familiar. Thick with arrogance.
Park security.
From the mansion.
She hadn’t seen him in years, but she remembered his eyes—cold and empty. He had been one of Tae’s dogs. A fixer. One of the men who used to “clean up” when things got messy.
“I told them you’d show your face eventually,” he sneered. “You should’ve stayed buried.”
He c****d the gun.
A gunshot rang out.
The man toppled sideways—dead before he hit the dirt.
Lee-Chung stood above them, chest heaving, rifle smoking. His shirt was soaked with blood, but his eyes were fire.
Ae-cha stared up at him, heart thudding.
“You knew they’d come,” she whispered.
He didn’t deny it.
“They’ve been following me for weeks,” he said. “Waiting for me to lead them to you.”
She blinked.
“You brought them here?”
“No. I brought me here,” he said darkly. “They followed. They think I’m still loyal to the family. That I’d deliver you to them.”
She sat up, her body aching, mind spinning.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you wouldn’t have believed me.”
He was right.
Because if he had told her days ago—before the long nights in the barracks, before the quiet understanding blooming between them—she would’ve assumed he was just like Tae.
But now?
Now she wasn’t sure of anything.
Except this: someone wanted her dead. And they weren’t done.
They searched the fallen men—two dead, one still barely breathing. Ae-cha pressed her boot on his chest, rifle aimed at his face.
“Who sent you?”
The man coughed blood.
“You already know.”
Her hand tightened on the trigger. “Say it.”
He smirked. “Your prince.”
Tae.
Her stomach clenched.
Even now—after all these years—he was still reaching for her throat.
“I should kill you,” she said, voice like ice.
The man’s eyes fluttered. “Then do it.”
But she didn’t.
She turned to Lee-Chung.
“We need answers. He’s coming with us.”
The room was dark. One flickering bulb hung loosely from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows on the stained concrete walls. The air was stale with sweat, silence, and the bitter scent of secrets.
Ae-cha stood behind the two-way mirror, arms folded tightly against her chest. She hadn’t said a word since they brought the man in—the one who had been lurking near the base perimeter, muttering her name like a haunted prayer.
Inside, the man sat slumped in the metal chair, wrists cuffed to the table. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken but wild, like someone who had seen the edge of something unspeakable. He bore the look of a man whose truths had festered far too long.
Lee-Chung stood beside her, silent. He hadn’t left her side since they received the report.
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" he finally asked.
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on the man.
Then a voice crackled through the speaker. The officer in the room began the interrogation.
"Name."
Silence.
"Tell us your name."
A crooked smile crept across the man’s face. “Names don’t matter when you know who they really are. You can call me the gravekeeper.”
Ae-cha’s heart skipped. The words rang too familiar.
"You were caught trespassing near classified training grounds. Why were you there?"
“I was looking for her.” He turned toward the mirror, eyes dead set on the glass. “I was looking for the girl whose silence screams louder than bullets.”
Ae-cha’s breath caught.
He knows.
"You know her?"
The man chuckled, a low, hollow sound.
“Know her?” he rasped. “I watched her world burn. I saw the truth buried while everyone else danced around a lie.”
Lee-Chung clenched his fists.
“Tell us what you mean.”
The man’s voice dropped, trembling.
“There was a house. A night. Screams that were never heard. A family murdered—but not by strangers. Not by chance.”
The room fell still.
Ae-cha staggered back from the glass, her mind spiraling.
Memories started surfacing—faint ones. A crimson wall. Her father’s voice—cut short. Her mother’s perfume. The lull of a music box.
She blinked, hard.
The gravekeeper leaned in closer.
“I remember her crying. Blood on her hands. Not hers. Someone else’s. They told her she imagined it. That it was a fire. An accident. But she saw it, didn’t she? That little girl…”
"What are you saying?" the officer barked.
But the man’s eyes never left the mirror.
“She’s the storm they tried to cage. And the man she trusted—Tae—he knows. He always knew. That’s why he’s hunting her now.”
Ae-cha shook her head. “No…” she whispered.
Lee-Chung placed a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away.
The officer demanded again, “Who killed her parents?”
The man smiled again, this time bitter. “Look at the files. Look deeper. The Park family’s donations? That hush fund? They bought silence. You think that boy’s chasing her out of love? He’s finishing what their father started.”
Silence.
Explosions of realization sparked in Ae-cha’s chest.
Tae.
He wasn’t protecting her. He was protecting the lie.
Lee-Chung stepped into the room without warning.
The officer stood, startled, but Lee-Chung held up his badge. “Let him talk. All of it.”
He turned to the man. “Who killed her family?”
The man’s smile dropped. His voice was hoarse. “His name was Park Dae-jin. Tae’s father. Your father.”
Lee-Chung froze.
“The girl’s mother was going to expose him. Embezzlement, s*x trafficking… she found records. She threatened to go public. So he sent someone.”
The man looked up. “I was the someone. But I didn’t kill them. I couldn’t. She begged. She had a child. I walked away. That same night, they were slaughtered. Someone else did it. But I don’t know who. I was framed.”
Ae-cha couldn’t breathe. Her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor.
Memories blurred. The smell of kerosene. A flash of silver. Her mother screaming her name.
She had seen someone that night. But not her father.
Tae.
He had been there.
“You know something,” the gravekeeper whispered, as if feeling her realization. “You’ve always known.”
Lee-Chung turned slowly toward the glass, eyes on Ae-cha.
“She needs protection,” he said quietly. “From my brother.
The Cracked Mirror
The interrogation room was dim, lit only by a flickering ceiling bulb that swung slightly, casting shadows that danced on the walls like restless ghosts. Ae-cha sat across from the man—a former Park Industries associate—his face gaunt, smeared with dried blood and sweat. His hands were cuffed to the table, his eyes hollow, but alert. There was something feral in his gaze… something that looked like fear—and regret.
“I’ve told you everything I know,” he spat. “Let me go. I’m not the only monster in this.”
Ae-cha didn’t blink. Her voice was like ice. “You said Tae wasn’t involved. Then who buried the evidence about my family?”
The man laughed bitterly. “You still think Tae is innocent?” He leaned forward, chains clinking. “You poor, blind girl… you don’t know a damn thing, do you?”
Her heart thudded against her ribs, but she kept her voice steady. “Then tell me.”
He hesitated. Then slowly, deliberately, Your parents—your real parents—weren’t supposed to die. Just your father, but your mother becamed involved ,they were going to expose a merger scheme. Your mother wasn’t home. But she came back too early.” His gaze dropped. “She burned with him.”
Silence. Deafening, soul-wrenching silence.
Ae-cha’s world tilted. “oh God",
,” she whispered, barely audible
The man’s eyes flared. “He used you. Don’t you get it? You were the perfect distraction. A charity case. An orphan he could love, control, and erase if you ever came too close to the truth.”
“No…” Ae-cha stumbled back from the table, the chair scraping violently across the floor. Her breathing hitched. Her vision blurred. Images from eleven years ago surged—flames licking walls, screams swallowed by smoke, burning room…
firstly , they took her real parents , they burned the only people who saved her from taking her own life , the people who she called parents for the second time ..
She had seen it. All of it. She had just forgotten.
Or suppressed it.
Lee Chung burst into the room, eyes sharp, protective. He had heard enough from outside. “That’s enough,” he barked at the man. “You say one more lie and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”
“It’s not a lie!” the man growled. “Your brother did it! Just like your father—he’d sacrifice anything to preserve the Park name. Even blood.”
Lee Chung froze.
“You should’ve killed him,” Lee-Chung muttered. “That’s what they’d do to us.”
“I’m not them.”
Ae-cha looked at him, her face pale, shattered. “Is it true?”
His jaw clenched. “I didn’t know about the fire,” he said. “I knew our father was hiding something. But I swear, Ae-cha… I never thought Tae—”
“You knew about the documents,” she said. “You suspected the cover-up. And you said nothing.”
“I loved you,” he whispered. “Even back then. I was just a boy. And you… were his.”
The room fell still.
The man coughed, wheezing from laughter. “How poetic,” he sneered. “You two were always dancing around a tragedy.”
Lee Chung moved before he could stop himself, slamming the man’s head to the table. “Say one more word,” he hissed, “and I’ll make sure you choke on your own lies.”
Ae-cha stood motionless, her mind spinning, her soul cracking open.
Her entire life—her pain, her silence, her trauma—was manufactured. Designed. Buried under the Park family’s wealth and lies.
She backed away, her breath short, her chest tight. “I need air,” she gasped, pushing through the doors and into the cold night.
The stars above looked too bright. Too distant.
She staggered toward the edge of the compound, past soldiers in training, past curious stares. Her body moved on instinct, but her heart remained in that room, tangled in chains of betrayal.
Lee Chung followed, but gave her space.
She stood alone beneath a dying tree.
And finally, she screamed.
- Writer
