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Summary
It had been two weeks since then, but Ga On could still feel the way Yo Han's hands on him felt as he forced him out of the courtroom before detonating the explosives. He could still see the tears in his eyes, could still smell the last notes of his cologne. It was those memories that he clung to as he slashed his wrists in the man's office, desperate to follow him into hell, his blood staining the marble floor.