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# Chapter 196: Whispers of Darkness
As Min-jun gazed into the depths of his own heart, consumed by the darkness that Trap had created, one terrible realization crystallized within him. He couldn’t remember how long Trap had been happening. More unsettling still—he’d stopped feeling time pass at all. His heart hammered against his ribs, rapid and frantic, while his hands curled into fists deep within his pockets. Each time the cold night air touched his skin, his body tensed, hyperaware of the trap closing around him.
At 2 AM, Min-jun pushed through the glass doors of a café. Warmth enveloped his face as the aroma of coffee and the soft murmur of late-night patrons washed over him. He slid into a seat, acutely conscious of his own heartbeat, his fingers absently brushing against his temple. The barista greeted him with practiced kindness, presenting a fresh glass of orange juice with its bright, citrusy scent. The aroma tickled his nose—sharp and clean—yet as he studied the menu, he tried to empty his mind of everything else.
Min-jun sipped his coffee, hoping the warmth and the ambient conversation might pull him free from the darkness. It has to work, he thought. It has to. But his heart continued its frantic rhythm, his hands remained tense in his pockets. As he looked around the café’s interior, he felt it again—the grip of Trap tightening around his mind, staining his thoughts with shadow. The scent of coffee mingled with something sweet, and beneath his feet, he felt the warmth of polished wood.
By 4 AM, Min-jun had left the café behind. The engine roar of passing buses and the distant chatter of early morning pedestrians filled the pre-dawn streets. He walked through the city, his pulse racing, feeling Trap’s hold deepening with each step. Neon signs flickered in his vision; the sounds of traffic and conversation filled his ears. The darkness of the night seemed to seep into him, and he surrendered to it, letting it consume his thoughts.
Again, the same realization struck him: How long has it been? How much time has passed? He couldn’t say. The sensation of time itself had become abstract, meaningless. His heart pounded. His hands trembled in his pockets. Trap had him now—completely.
At 6 AM, Min-jun stood before a building. Its doors were locked, but when he read the name—Destar Entertainment—something within him flickered. A faint light in the darkness. This was where his dreams lived. This was where he fought to make them real. He stared at those letters, feeling a fragile warmth beginning to bloom.
When he pushed through the entrance, that warmth spread slightly further. The interior welcomed him with gentle air and the scent of fresh coffee. Yet even as he felt a moment of reprieve, the shadow returned. Trap was still there, still holding him. His hands remained clenched. His heart still raced. The darkness still clung to him like a second skin.
The hours blurred together—a cycle that repeated endlessly. Cafés at 8 AM. Streets at 10 AM. The building at noon. Each moment felt both stretched and compressed, as if time itself had become trapped alongside him. Min-jun moved through the city like a ghost, aware of every sensation yet disconnected from all of it. The coffee’s warmth. The cold pavement beneath his feet. The food smells drifting from restaurants. The neon glow of the waking city.
And always, always, the knowledge that Trap held him. That he couldn’t escape. That time had lost all meaning.
His heart beat rapidly in his chest. His hands curled tight in his pockets. Trap had seized his mind completely, drowning it in an endless night.
How long had it been since this began? He couldn’t remember. The passage of time felt like a lie.
His heart raced. His hands trembled. Trap owned him now.
And in the darkness, Min-jun finally understood: the trap wasn’t external. It lived inside him. It was him.