The Algorithm Of Deceit

Chapter Twelve

Ji-hyun sighed, running a hand through her hair as she turned back to the package. It sat there, plain and unassuming, yet it carried an air of tension that made her hesitant to touch it.

She took a deep breath, shaking off the unease creeping up her spine. This wasn’t the time to falter.

Lifting the box carefully, she unlocked her door and stepped inside, securing the lock behind her. Placing it on the table, she pulled out a knife from the kitchen drawer, slicing through the tape with precision.

Her phone pinged. A single message.

"Clue three."

Her pulse quickened.They were watching.

Ji-hyun ignored the weight pressing on her chest and focused on the package. Peeling back the flaps, she found old newspaper clippings stacked inside. Frowning, she sifted through them, looking for something—anything—that stood out.

Nothing.

She scowled, growing frustrated.

Was this a joke?

Just as she was about to shove everything aside, something small slipped out from between the papers, landing with a soft thud on the wooden table.
A USB drive.

Ji-hyun froze. Her hand hovered over it, hesitation creeping in before taking it. Her breath was unsteady as she stared at the USB resting in her palm. A single, insignificant object, yet it carried the weight of something far greater—answers or a trap. Maybe both.

Ji-hyun clenched her jaw. There was no room for hesitation. If they wanted her to see this, she had to be prepared for whatever was inside. With a deep breath, she walked over to her laptop, plugged in the USB, and opened the folder.

Only one file.

A video.

Her finger hovered over the touchpad. Grainy footage. Night vision.

It was a military camp, and the timestamp in the corner read nearly four months ago—around the time Soo-ah went missing.
The camera angle was shaky, as if filmed in secret. She could barely make out the figures, but the setting was eerily similar to the previous video—a makeshift military camp. She recognized the uniformed figures, their rifles slung over their shoulders as they moved between tents.

And then—

A group of soldiers in restraints, kneeling on the ground.

Ji-hyun’s breath caught in her throat.

One of them was Soo-ah.Her sister looked exhausted, her uniform stained with dirt and blood, but her eyes still burned with defiance despite the blood trailing from her forehead. Ji-hyun leaned in, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk so tightly her knuckles turned white.

There were voices—muffled but sharp. Orders being given. Her twin stood among other kneeling soldiers, hands tied behind her back, her face bruised but her stance unyielding.

Men surrounded them—military officials, though their uniforms were strange. Their faces were obscured by shadows, and their voices were muffled, distorted.

Then one of the men stepped forward, his silhouette clearly standing out. This one was taller, broader. His uniform was clean, and unlike the others, he had an insignia on his shoulder. A commander?

Ji-hyun’s grip on her laptop tightened as the man spoke.

The language was foreign, but Ji-hyun had studied enough intelligence files to recognize it.

Not from their country.

Not friendly.

Her stomach churned.

The man grabbed Soo-ah’s chin roughly, forcing her to look at him.

Soo-ah spat in his face.

Ji-hyun gasped.

The man recoiled before striking her across the face. Soo-ah’s head snapped to the side, but when she looked back up, there was fire in her eyes.

Ji-hyun felt her own eyes sting.

Her sister was fearless.

The man turned to his subordinates, barking.His face was partially obscured by the shadows, but there was something about him that sent a chill down Ji-hyun’s spine.

The soldiers around him stiffened as he spoke.

The language wasn’t theirs.

Ji-hyun strained to understand, picking up only fragments of meaning.

But she didn’t need to be fluent to understand the message.

It was a warning.

He turned to Soo-ah, saying something with a smirk before signaling to his men.

One of the restrained soldiers was dragged forward.

Ji-hyun’s breath caught in her throat.

She knew what was coming. She wanted to look away. But she forced herself to watch.

A gunshot rang out.

The soldier collapsed.

Ji-hyun felt something inside her snap. Soo-ah flinched, but her expression didn’t break. The man chuckled before speaking again, but Ji-hyun could hear the impatience in his tone.

Soo-ah said nothing.

Another of the restrained soldiers was dragged forward. Ji-hyun’s body stiffened yet again as a gun was pressed to the soldier’s head. Soo-ah’s expression darkened, but she still said nothing.

The man spoke again, voice cold.

Ji-hyun didn’t understand all of it, but she knew what he kept saying impatiently.

Talk, or they die.

Soo-ah clenched her jaw.

The silence stretched.

Ji-hyun’s heart pounded.

And then—

A gunshot.

The soldier collapsed.

Ji-hyun’s entire body went numb.

Soo-ah flinched but kept her mouth shut.

The video abruptly ended.

Ji-hyun sat frozen.

Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, of emotions too volatile to control.

They had executed someone.

Right in front of her sister.

How many more?

Had Soo-ah watched all her comrades die?

Was she the last one left?

Ji-hyun shut her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She had trained for this. Prepared for the pain. But nothing could have prepared her for this. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her phone.

Clue three.

These people—whoever they were—were pushing her toward something.

What was their goal?

Did they want revenge too?

Or were they testing her?

Ji-hyun wiped at her face. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

This wasn’t just about revenge anymore.

It was about truth.

And if there was even a chance—no matter how small—that Soo-ah was still alive, Ji-hyun would tear the world apart to find her.

She clenched her fists.

No more hesitation.

No more waiting for breadcrumbs.

She would find the truth on her own terms.

Ji-hyun saved the video,unplugged the USB and crushed it under her heel, watching as the plastic shattered.

They had given her clues.

Now, it was her turn to act.