As her thoughts spiraled, Hye Jin's mind replayed the chilling moments of her first kill, each detail crystallizing in her memory. She had chosen her victim not merely out of chance, but for a purpose. The man had embodied everything she loathed: weakness, desperation, and fear. He had begged for mercy, his pleas echoing in her ears—a sweet symphony of vulnerability that only intensified her excitement.
"EVERY VICTIM NEEDS TO REFLECT THEIR OWN DARKNESS," she mused, the corners of her mouth curling into a sinister smile. "I WILL CHOOSE THOSE WHO DESERVE IT, THOSE WHO MIRROR MY FATHER'S CRUELTY OR THEIR OWN SINS."
Her mind raced with ideas. She envisioned meticulously studying her victims before striking. They would be those who thrived on the pain of others or who hid behind façades of normalcy. A corrupt businessman, a deceitful lover, a bully—each would be dissected and transformed into art, their true nature unveiled in their final moments.
Her father had shown her the thrill of the hunt, but now it was her turn to redefine the game. She would leave her mark, a signature style that spoke of elegance and precision—a twisted gallery of human suffering. Each murder would have a theme, a narrative that told a story beyond the bloodshed.
Hye Jin's heart raced with excitement as she envisioned her first series: "The Artist's Awakening." It would be a journey through the depths of human depravity, with her father's demise serving as the first exhibit. Each victim would be chosen for their connection to him, their suffering a tribute to the man who had birthed her darkness.
"I'll leave them as art installations," she whispered, her breath hitching with anticipation. "An exhibit of life and death, each piece carefully crafted to provoke thought and terror."
She could almost see it—her victims displayed like trophies in a macabre gallery, each one a reflection of her twisted vision. The thought made her giddy. She imagined the chilling beauty of it all, her art unveiling the truth of human nature, exposing the grotesque beneath the surface.
With renewed determination, Hye Jin stepped back from the wall, the blood on her hands glistening under the dim light. "I'll show the world my creations," she declared, her voice strong and resolute. "They will remember my name."
As she exited the dark room, her mind buzzed with inspiration and fervor. Hye Jin was no longer merely Ji Won's daughter; she was an artist of death, a sculptor of souls, ready to carve her legacy into the annals of horror. Each choice would be deliberate, each murder a brushstroke in her dark masterpiece.
With each step, the weight of her father's teachings faded, replaced by her own chilling aspirations. Hye Jin smiled to herself, the thrill of her new identity igniting a fire within. She was ready to create.
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