The wind was cold along the cliffs of Yonggungsa Temple, where the waves of the East Sea crashed against jagged rocks in a restless rhythm.
Arjun stood alone, clutching the small brass urn that held what remained of Meera — ashes fine as silk dust, as fragile as the memories now gnawing at his heart. The temple monks had agreed to conduct a modest ceremony, chanting solemn prayers in a language Arjun barely understood, but whose sorrow was universal.
Her parents weren't there.
After the call, the grief had left them too shattered to travel. In their place, Arjun carried their final blessing: Let her rest where she smiled last.
He placed the urn on a flat stone by the sea, the golden horizon reflecting against the water.
"She loved this ocean," Arjun murmured. "We talked about bringing our child here next spring…"
His voice cracked. He knelt down, his fingers brushing the cold metal, unwilling to let go.
"I couldn't save you, Meera. But I'll make them pay."
The ashes scattered with the wind, carried out to sea like a thousand tiny stars.
The sky grew darker.
But inside Arjun, something lit up.
Lingering Shadows
Though the embassy urged him to return to India — offering flight tickets and medical clearance — Arjun refused.
He drifted through Busan's narrow streets like a ghost.
Some nights, he found himself walking through the empty market square where the bloodstains had barely faded. The echoes of gunfire still lived there. The ghost of Meera's last breath seemed to linger in the air, clinging to every neon sign and food stall.
By day, he lingered around the Jungang Police Station, haunting its steps like a restless spirit.
Detective Kang noticed him within the week.
"You need to rest, Mr. Mehra," Kang said, lighting a cigarette as they stood by the rusted railing of the station steps. "Go home. Let us handle this."
Arjun shook his head, dark circles under his eyes. "I can't. Not until she gets what she deserves."
Kang sighed, exhaling a stream of smoke into the cold air. "Ji-Yeon… she's untouchable. Her men control half this city's underground. Witnesses are scared. The city council's in her pocket."
"Then what?" Arjun's voice hardened. "You let her walk?"
"I didn't say that."
Kang met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them.
Arjun had seen that look before — in warzones, in covert ops gone wrong. A man trapped between duty and survival.
"I'm not asking for the law," Arjun said quietly. "Just a name. A location."
Kang hesitated, then flicked his cigarette away. "She's left the city. Disappeared underground. But if you're smart, you'll stop looking."
Arjun said nothing.
The Unquiet Mind
Each night, in his hotel room, he traced the names Kang had scribbled for him — low-level contacts, Black Viper lieutenants still within reach. Places Ji-Yeon's name was whispered in fear.
Warehouse 17
The Black Lily Bar
Rogue's Pier
They meant nothing yet. But they would.
Arjun's body was healing, but his soul bled with every sunrise. He stopped taking the hospital's painkillers. He sharpened his reflexes with morning runs by the sea, the sting in his side a reminder of Meera's absence.
There would be no peace.
Not until her killer bled.