The night was thick with silence, the kind that wrapped around you like a warning. I stood in front of the mirror, studying my own reflection. For years, I had worn a mask—one crafted to perfection, seamless in its deception. The charming son, the ideal student, the untouchable golden boy. But now, I saw myself for what I truly was.
A predator.
There was no need to pretend anymore. No need to play along with society's expectations. My mother had given me the final confirmation I needed—I was made for this. And now, the only thing standing between me and absolute control was him.
Choi Taesung.
Or should I say, Yoon Taesung? My secret brother. The one who had been watching me from the start, waiting, playing his own game. But the difference between us was simple. I was no longer playing.
The first move had to be mine.
The Invitation
The message was simple.
"Meet me on the rooftop. No more pretending."
I knew he would come. He wanted this just as much as I did.
The rooftop of Jinhwa Private Academy was deserted at this hour. The wind howled, sweeping through the empty space, carrying the weight of unspoken truths. Taesung was already there, leaning against the railing, looking up at the night sky like he had all the time in the world.
"You finally stopped hiding," he said without turning around.
I stepped forward, my footsteps slow and deliberate. "Hiding?" I echoed, amused. "I was never hiding. I was waiting."
At that, he turned to face me. For the first time, I saw it—completely and undeniably. The same emptiness in his gaze that I had seen in my own reflection. We were the same. The same blood, the same instincts. But he wasn't like the others. He didn't fear me. He wasn't prey.
He was a rival.
"You killed Kang Daehyun like a masterpiece," he said casually. "But the second kill? That wasn't you."
I tilted my head. "No. It wasn't."
He smiled faintly. "Then tell me, little brother. How does it feel to lose control?"
There it was. The taunt. The challenge.
I exhaled slowly. "You think this is about control?" I murmured. "No, Taesung. This is about something much simpler."
I took a step closer, closing the distance between us. He didn't move.
"This is about which one of us deserves to exist."
The First Strike
I moved first.
A flash of silver in the dark—my knife, slicing through the air, aimed directly at his throat. But he was faster than I expected. He ducked, twisting away with a sharp laugh, his own blade glinting in the moonlight.
"You really want to do this here?" he taunted, his breathing even.
I lunged again. He sidestepped, but I adjusted, slashing toward his ribs. A shallow cut. Not enough to kill, but enough to prove a point. He hissed, pressing a hand against the wound, but his smirk never faded.
"You're good," he admitted. "But not good enough."
Then it was his turn.
His movements were precise, controlled. Every step, every shift of weight—it was calculated, as if he had studied me just as much as I had studied him. I barely dodged his next attack, his blade grazing my arm, warmth blooming where the skin split open.
I laughed, the thrill of the fight seeping into my veins. "This is fun," I admitted.
Taesung's eyes darkened. "No, Jiwon. This is fate."
We clashed again, two shadows in the night, two predators fighting for the right to exist. The world had no place for both of us. And we both knew it.
One of us would not walk away from this rooftop.
And I intended to make sure it wasn't me.