My Model (BL) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

The warehouse air grew heavy, almost suffocating, as the warped figure stepped into the flickering light. Soo-ah’s hand trembled around his pistol, not because of fear—but recognition.“Hyung…” he whispered again, his voice breaking.The man’s face was distorted with crimson veins that pulsed beneath the skin, eyes burning with an unnatural glow. Yet beneath the monstrous changes, Soo-ah still saw him—the older brother figure who had once trained them, fought beside them, laughed with them under starlight during missions.Jin-ho.Once their protector, now Lazarus’s puppet.Sang-woo’s jaw clenched. His gun stayed raised, unwavering. “That’s not him anymore, Soo-ah. Look at his eyes. He’s gone.”“No,” Soo-ah snapped, stepping slightly in front of Yoon-min, shielding him. His voice trembled but held firm. “He’s in there. I know he is.”Jin-ho tilted his head slowly, almost curiously, before a guttural growl tore from his throat. He raised his weapon—an energy-forged blade crackling with

The air trembled, alive with heat and fury. Lazarus’s crimson aura filled the collapsing corridor, flames licking the steel walls as if the building itself bent to his wrath. His figure was monstrous now—less man than inferno, every vein coursing with molten fire.“You won’t leave this place alive,” Lazarus growled, his voice echoing like a god of vengeance. “You will die here, as ash beneath my feet.”Soo-ah’s chest heaved, lungs burning from the smoke. His arms clutched Jin-ho tightly, refusing to let go. Yoon-min staggered beside him, face pale, still holding his blade though his strength waned. Behind them, Sang-woo stood tall—bleeding, wounded, yet unyielding.The weight of choice pressed down on Soo-ah. He remembered Sang-woo’s words just moments ago—Get them out, I’ll hold him off. His heart clenched. No. He couldn’t let Sang-woo throw himself into the flames alone.His grip on Jin-ho tightened, voice trembling. “Yoon-min, take him.”Yoon-min blinked, shocked. “What—? Soo-ah, y

The sterile whiteness of the hospital room felt like a cruel mockery.Soo-ah sat hunched in the chair by the bed, his elbows on his knees, hands pressed hard into his face. His body ached everywhere—bruises, cuts, smoke still embedded in his lungs—but none of it mattered.The only thing that mattered lay motionless on the bed beside him.Sang-woo.His older brother, his protector, his anchor in a world of lies and shadows.Now he was hooked to machines, his chest rising and falling with the help of tubes and wires. Bandages wrapped around his torso, hiding burns and shrapnel wounds. His strong hands, the ones that had carried Soo-ah countless times through fire and storm, lay pale and limp against the sheets.Soo-ah reached out, hesitant, then closed his fingers around Sang-woo’s hand. The warmth was faint, but it was there.“Wake up,” he whispered, his voice raw from smoke and sleeplessness. “Please. Just… wake up.”His thumb brushed across Sang-woo’s knuckles. Memories flickered—San

The night inside the hospital was deceptively quiet. Outside, Istanbul was alive with its usual chaos—traffic horns, distant laughter, the hum of a city that refused to sleep. But within the whitewashed walls of Sang-woo’s room, time seemed to slow into something fragile, suspended between relief and dread.Soo-ah hadn’t left his side. Even as fatigue dragged at his body, he refused to close his eyes. He sat slumped in the chair, fingers laced with Sang-woo’s, eyes burning from sleeplessness. Every time Sang-woo stirred in his sleep, every small grimace that crossed his face, Soo-ah jolted upright, his heart seizing with panic.The doctors said Sang-woo’s condition was stable, but stability felt like a thin thread, fraying with every breath.“You should sleep,” Sang-woo murmured hoarsely, his eyes fluttering open. His voice was weak, but it carried the same stubbornness he’d always had.Soo-ah’s throat tightened. “How can I sleep when you look like this?”Sang-woo’s lips curved faintl

The helicopter blades still roared in Soo-ah’s ears long after they touched down on the outskirts of Istanbul. The city stretched like a tapestry of lights beneath the night sky, but all he felt was exhaustion—the kind that seeped deep into the bones, weighing down every breath.The safehouse wasn’t glamorous. It was a nondescript warehouse, its exterior rusting with age, hidden between abandoned factories that smelled of oil and decay. Inside, however, it was fortified—a place their father’s network had secured long ago. Steel doors, reinforced windows, and a labyrinth of hallways designed for defense rather than comfort.Soo-ah half-carried Sang-woo inside, Yoon-min clearing the path ahead with cold precision. The guards stationed there bowed deeply, their eyes flicking to Sang-woo’s pale face with concern but offering no questions.The moment they entered a dimly lit room converted into a temporary infirmary, Soo-ah laid his brother gently on the cot. Sang-woo grimaced but gave him