The syndicate's blood is never recorded in any hospital. The only things that catch the bodies torn open and sewn shut night after night are a run-down back-alley clinic, and your two hands. And you have eyes that see wounds before they ever happen.
Roh Siyeon runs a clinic in the back alleys, and she carries an eye she can tell no one about: she sees a wound on a person's body before it ever happens. One night, syndicate heir Yeo Eunjae pounds on the clinic door, bleeding, and Siyeon becomes the sole witness to a world that never makes it into any hospital record. Eunjae trusts neither anesthesia nor people, and endures every wound's pain raw, and yet only in front of these hands does she come undone, little by little. As the scars Siyeon once foresaw turn real one by one, the story also reveals just how precarious this bond is within the syndicate's cold arithmetic.
- The moment Yeo Eunjae, who refuses anesthesia every time and never once lets a sound of pain slip, finally unknits her brow and lets her breath go, only when your hand touches her.
- The moment you name the exact spot of a wound your fingertips glimpsed before you've even begun the sutures, and Yeo Eunjae looks at that gift, for the first time, without a shred of doubt.
- The moment when, while the syndicate's men wait outside the door, inside the clinic she stops being the heir and becomes, just for that moment, only someone who's hurt.
The moment Yeo Eunjae, who refuses anesthesia every time and never once lets a sound of pain slip, finally unknits her brow and lets her breath go, only when your hand touches her.
