“Heejin is involved. She has to be. She framed me—”

Seokga’s head is swimming, and he feels as if he might faint.

“—is there a jangsan beom on the ship?” his nephew is demanding. “They mimic voices. There has to be a jangsan beom because I swear—on me—that I’m innocent!”

To swear on Hwanung is the deadliest oath one can make. For Hwanung to do it now…Seokga’s throat has long gone dry. The satisfied feeling of having closed a case drains away from him. “If you’re lying to me, nephew—”

“I swear on myself that I’m not!”

Shit. Fuck. Shit fucking shit. Somi is right. Seokga is an awful detective. Chief Shim would be so disappointed. He can feel him rolling in his grave. “Stay hidden. Stay down. I’ll call you back soon.” Before Hwanung can reply, Seokga is ending the call and stumbling out into the bedroom. “Kisa,” he says urgently, “Kisa, wake up—”

He cuts off short.

The bed is empty. The lights are on.

And the door is wide, wide open.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kisa

Her spine stiffens. As it begins, Kisa sucks in a shallow breath, tasting something bittersweet at the back of her throat. It reminds her of her stepmother’s fixation with anti-aging creams. She stares down at the city below, heart thumping. It all happens so fast. Kisa doesn’t even have time to open her mouth, to scream a plea to her goddess.

For in an instant, her body is sliding off the roof and she is for a perfect, brilliant moment, weightless and hovering over Seoul. But then gravity grabs her by the ankle and tugs her down, yanking her past rows and rows of gleaming glass windows all stacked upon one another, laughing as it hauls her toward the ground in a perfect swan dive.

Kisa closes her eyes.

It’s over soon enough.

But the dream isn’t. As Kisa lies broken on the pavement, feet clad in glossy red pumps approach her. Kisa groans in pain as two slim fingers tilt up her chin. “You’re missing something,” a woman with ridiculously voluminous brown hair and glittering wine-brown eyes tells her, just as beautiful as she was in Seokga’s illusion as she arches a slender brow. Hani. “Go back.”

“Wait,” gurgles Kisa through a smashed face, but she’s back on the roof, the dark night of Seoul swimming below her.

Her spine stiffens. As it begins, Kisa sucks in a shallow breath, tasting something bittersweet at the back of her throat. It reminds her of her stepmother’s fixation with anti-aging creams. She stares down at the city below, heart thumping. It all happens so fast. Kisa doesn’t even have time to open her mouth, to scream a plea to her goddess.

Again, she falls.

Again, Hani appears over her, looking annoyed.