"What?"
Her pulse raced so fast she thought she might break into a cold sweat. Paralyzed, Heeju couldn’t move, frozen by the sudden wave of dread.
The faint smell of acetone, a memory tied to the kidnapper from years ago, seemed to prickle at her nose.
But that was impossible.
The real Baek Saeon had supposedly perished in the unforgiving terrain of Argan.
―It’s been months since we last spoke.
"…!"
