It was comforting in a way of unspoken affirmation that although he would never speak on it, he genuinely cared. To whatever extent that word encompassed, you neither sat too long with your thoughts on it nor lay too deeply engrossed in indulgent what if’s.

Perhaps it was this year, the past year, or perhaps it was all of the years leading up to now, but you didn’t quite know when you started to see Hajoon differently. 

Not in a bad way, of course. 

It was in a way that you’d never thought about before; in a way that was like gently drifting off to sleep on a hot midsummer’s night. 

It was gradual, placid, and encroached on you in the manner of a slight, evening twilight breeze coming in through the window, yet which still warmed you. 

You weren’t aware when the change happened, really. For as long as you have known, Hajoon was your best friend, the one person who was always there by your side. 

Though, maybe that was precisely how it came to be.

Hajoon was always there: by you, with you, for you.

You hoped that down the line, even in the far future, his constant presence would remain unaltered, but every now and then it scared you to think about the day where he wouldn’t be, and you don’t dare to hope for anything else other than friendship. 

Friendship was neutral. 

Friendship was safe. 

Friendship was…possibly the only thing that could be between you and him. 

You kept your mystic abilities hidden this entire time, so what is one more thing to withhold to yourself? If you can barely bear the thought of revealing your innate gift, how could you tell him about your innermost feelings? 

There was too much ambivalence regarding both, so you’d rather tiptoe around the certainty of camaraderie than the uncertainty of the unrequited. 

Nescience was far better than nothingness.

You didn’t want him to equate you as the personification of the one thing he detested.  

You’d rather him be indifferent than invidious. 

You could live with Hajoon seeing you as only a friend, never returning your feelings even within an inch of your own.

But, you wouldn’t be able live with Hajoon hating you. 

“You’ve been incredibly untalkative this morning.” 

Lost in thought, you don’t even notice your steps have slowed, fingers slackened around your backpack straps you tended to clutch close to your shoulders. But, Hajoon had noticed. 

Of course he did. He always did. 

He slows down his steps so that they match your own without needing to look back. 

Right foot…

Left foot…

Right foot…

Left foot…

Where you were walking side by side earlier, you had since fallen behind, a few paces rearward of him. 

“I’m tired is all,” you say almost too easily, your default response as of late when you couldn’t come up with any better excuse. 

There’s a beat of silence where even without looking up, you could tell Hajoon wanted to pry but ultimately thought better of it in the end. 

It was a bright, sunny day that casted shadows on the pavement of his footprints. 

You step onto each reflection as he walks forward, trying to match yours inside his on the ground. 

Left foot…

Right foot…

Left foot…

Right—

Right into someone. 

“Oof,” an embarrassing sound of startlement escapes you as you bump headfirst into Hajoon’s chest, the force of it sending you backward a few inches. Your hand reflexively flies to press against your forehead. “Don’t you think you should watch where you’re going?”

“You were the one who bumped into me,” Hajoon counters teasingly.

Regardless of being toe to toe, you still land a punch to his shoulder. “Why did you even walk hindwards? And how come I wasn’t paying attention?” You were so engrossed in the imprints you didn’t even realize he had turned around after not seeing you in stride with him.

“You were busy chasing shadows.” 

He didn’t know how close to the truth that was and you avert your eyes briefly before scoffing to hide your pause. 

“And what were you doing, then?” You gesture walking in reverse with your fingers, even miming the bump as if to say it was his fault.

“I was busy chasing you.” 

You inhale on a soundless stuttered breath, your heart lurching momentarily. The statement comes out too direct, too honest, and too open, for it to be anything but the truth. Yet somehow, the fear of wishful thinking makes you dismiss his earnest declaration. 

“Don’t say that.”

Like you mean it. 

“How come?”

When you don’t. 

He stares at you, no change in his expression as he holds the eye contact like he could draw out the answer from within your mind by his one look alone. 

You lower your head, knowing that the longer you were held captive within the intensity of his gaze, his searching eyes would unravel everything you’ve managed to wrap and conceal for years. 

So, you settle for a coverup that was half-lie and half-truth. “You’re just messing with me.” With that, you speed walk past him, the school entrance already appearing in a hazed view a little ways away.

You hear his footsteps against the gravel as he catches up once again, trying to match your exact momentum and the order of your gait as you had done to him a few paces ago. 

“Who said I was making fun of you?” you hear from your right. “When have I ever lied to you?”

He was right, but in admitting that, you’d have to come to terms with what else the weight of his words could mean and you neither had the mind nor the heart to. 

“You haven’t,” you concede. “But what if you decided to start?”

Hajoon lets out a noncommittal sound, marginally aggrieved. “If I ever tell you a lie, I’ll let you fool me for the rest of my life.” He raises his hand up, as if to swear on it. 

You kick at a pebble in your way and it bounces a few meters off the sidewalk, rolling and clacking against the metal sewer drain, the rhythmic clanging mimicking your steps against the ground.

“Are you sure?”

“I only dare to say so because I know you’d never lie to me.”

I haven’t lied to you, Hajoon…I just haven’t told you the full truth. 

“You sure like to live life on the edge, don’t you?” you joke, but on the contrary, Hajoon downright favored routine, preferring to never stray from the standard of familiarity if he could help it. 

You skipped over a crack in the sidewalk, the ends of your hair fluttering behind you as you tried to avoid the split that would cause you to overstep into the superstitious realm of bad luck. 

In front of you, the sloped brick wall that bordered the pathway to the school’s entrance stretched far and wide, wide enough to balance on.

Naturally, you climbed onto it, scaling the lowermost point where the curve connected to the ground.

“Says the one on the actual edge.” Hajoon moves closer the moment you jumped up, having to glance up at you now from your vantage point. “Yeonha.”

“What is it?” you chirp, arms spread slightly for balance. 

“Please, get down. You’ll fall.”

“Who do you take me for? I won’t fall.”

There were signs of Hajoon losing his mind already, if the furrows on his forehead were any indication, but still, he slowed his pace to stay beside you as you ambled over the bricks. 

That was the thing about Hajoon. Everyone at school thought he was cold because he looked permanently put off at the concept of human interaction but even now in his acting like keeping up with you was his life’s biggest burden, he clearly worried. 

He wasn’t cold. He just kept his warmth hidden, and hidden very well.

The wall wasn’t very high, at least to you who wasn’t plagued with acrophobia, but Hajoon kept glancing up every few seconds anyway, like he expected gravity to specifically target you out of spite. It was sweet—not that you’d ever tell him that even if your life depended on it. He’d probably short-circuit and walk into oncoming traffic.

You bit back a smile before tilting slightly, mock swaying as you lean off to one side on purpose, pretending to lose your balance. 

“Woah—!”

Hajoon’s head snapped up instantly. Before you could even finish the fake stumble, his hand darts out to encircle around your wrist, fingers holding on firmly as he steadied you from below. His brows were scrunched in concern, hard, dark eyes fixed on you with unmistakable alarm, only thereafter morphing to raised in annoyance as the laugh you were trying to hold in bursts out through your sealed lips in a puff of suppressed giggles.

“Are you insane?”

You blinked at the low tenor of his voice, solemn. That expression and tone was unfair, for you had only meant to tease him a little. Instead, now your heart was trying to claw its way out of your chest. “I was kidding…” you mumble out meekly, suddenly quieter.

“Are you trying to test my reflexes or give me a heart attack?” he scolds like usual, but his voice lacked any real bite.

“I’m trying to test your heart attack reflex,” you wittily reply. You laughed, and despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched.

It was tiny—barely there—but you saw it anyway. Hajoon masked it by narrowing his eyes at you pointedly yet doesn’t let go of your wrist as you continue walking onward, him shuffling his feet to follow along, now ambulating even closer to the wall. 

You raise your forearm above you as you place one foot in front of the other, trying to connect your steps heel to toe. Shaking your forearm emits the soft tinkling sounds of the bell and your bracelet sparkles in the morning sun. 

You can’t help but smile at it. 

“Do you like it that much?” Hajoon’s voice travels up given the current height difference between the two of you, sounding every bit amused in his question. 

“Of course I do. More than you know.” you say without looking at him, still staring at the piece of jewelry adorning your wrist. “It’s a reminder for me of how many people I have in my circle who sincerely care.”

The next second sees the sun glinting off its surface and the brightness blinds you, the onslaught of light causing you to close your eyes involuntarily, momentarily, but it is in this instant of you unable to see where your steps land that you trip over your own feet. Despite your best efforts in flailing your arm to try and regain your bearings, it’s no use. 

The world tilted sharply beneath you, your stomach dropping as your balance disappeared completely, without pretense this time.

“Yeonha!” Even the panic in Hajoon’s voice was real, and you brace for the impact of your fall sideways onto the hard pavement, but it never comes. Instead of scraping yourself against asphalt, his warm hand yanks you downward to safety. You stumble off the ledge with a startled yelp and come to an abrupt stop. 

You had careened straight into him, shoulders colliding from the abrupt descent where his body took most of the impact as he steadied you both. Your hands instinctively clutched at the front pocket of his uniform shirt, leaning inward from the motion of the sudden height drop.

For one dizzying second, you both were far too close. Your face was inches from his chest. His hand was still locked around your arm, and when you looked up, Hajoon was already staring at you—really staring. His breathing sounded uneven.

“Are you hurt?” The sharpness in his voice caught you off guard. He wasn’t angry no, but worried, yes; actually worried.

Your chest tightened. “I’m okay,” you assured softly, righting yourself again so you weren’t transferring your body weight.

“I’m going to die young one day because of you,” Hajoon mutters in disbelief, shock still evident on his face. “Wanting to keep you safe is more difficult than anything.” 

“You’re doing a fine job, though.”

Hajoon didn’t answer immediately. Without a word, he slides his hand from your wrist down to your own, holding it tightly in his and interlacing your fingers. “Now you have the entirety of the Kang family looking after and protecting you,” he surmises as he glimpses down at your bracelet. “If you manage to cause another mishap, I don’t know how I’ll answer to everyone.”

“They didn’t make it your responsibility to look after me, you know.” You swing your clasped hands but Hajoon doesn’t pull away in the slightest or let go even as you two advance closer toward school. 

“It’s more of an unspoken rule, wouldn’t you say so?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Then just think of it as a responsibility I chose to take on my own.”

You whip your head toward him, not quite believing your own hearing even as the words register in your mind. 

The tips of his ears are faintly red, the hue there to stay. 

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can say anything more, there’s an interjection a few feet away. 

“Hey, Kang Hajoon!” 

Both of you turn toward the sound, seeing a group of boys, most of whom were wearing glasses, waving in unison. Some were trying to glance around Hajoon to see you, curious about who he was talking to.

“My coding club buddies,” Hajoon supplies as he turns back to you, giving a long stare downward before releasing your wrist lightly, reluctantly.

“Go,” you tell him. “I’ll see you in class later.”

He nods and pivots to walk toward his friends, but you see him clench and unclench his left hand—the one that was just wrapped around yours—the short distance away from you, the last repetition being him curling his fingers inward toward his palm, this time not uncurling them again even as he reaches his clubmates.

You take your own wrist in your other hand, rubbing at the spot where he’d touched you, pretending not to notice how warm your skin still felt.

In parallel, you turn in the opposite direction to head toward school, spotting the rest of your friends in the far distance wherein Geonwoo and Seah were walking together side by side, suspiciously closer than usual. 

Smiling to yourself, you sneak up behind the latter without a sound before patting both of her upper arms, making her jolt, instinctively laying a hand to her chest. Geonwoo also flinches from the aftereffect of her reaction before he laughs at the expression on her face and proceeds to wave you good morning and giving a birthday greeting in the form of a very off-key rendition of the celebratory song. 

“You scared me!” 

“Not enough if Miss Track Star hasn’t bolted away yet.” 

“If I bolt, who’s going to sing Happy Birthday for you today—properly?” Seah just shakes her head good-naturedly and links her arm through yours. Despite the scare, she still has a bright smile stretched across her face. 

You elbow her in the side and she turns to you. “So…?” you hint, tilting your head in the direction of Geonwoo who is hardly that far in front, but the distance is enough to where you wouldn’t be heard.

Seah's cheeks bunch up, cheekbones dusted faintly pink, and as Geonwoo spins around to take a glance at her while beaming himself, you already had your answer.

“Me and—”

“Geonwoo-ah!” Nari, without thought or consideration, suddenly comes out of nowhere to interject, speedily sidling up to hang onto his forearm. “What are you doing after school today?”

You glance at Seah with eyebrows raised as if to inquire inaudibly if she was seeing what you were seeing, as Geonwoo puts distance between them in the foreground, mumbling something near incoherent. 

It was a longtime coming, the relationship between Geonwoo and Seah something you saw develop over the years. Both were your close friends and it was simultaneously comedic and entertaining when either would come to you to ask after the other. 

Given the familiar routine of you being in the middle as the eternal third wheel, it didn’t take much for you to figure out the hints of budding affection. Truth be told, they were a perfect match and you couldn’t be happier for them. 

“Seah-ah,” you begin, wiggling your arm where it was still locked with hers. “What are you doing after school today?” Batting your eyelashes, you lean closer and tried your best to copy Nari’s actions, widening your eyes to an outrageous degree for maximum effect.

Seah barks out a laugh at the sight of you, basically a parody of the show in front of you both. “You’re incorrigible!” 

“Jokes aside,” you continue. “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd on Nari’s part? I haven’t seen her this clingy with anyone. At best, she tolerates us.”

“Hmm…” Seah considers it for a moment before flicking you on the forehead with her thumb and pointer finger. 

“Um…ouch?!” you reprimand, hand coming up to your forehead to rub at the spot you were sure would soon turn red.

“You’re just overthinking it,” she concludes. 

“And you’re under-thinking,” you fire back, sticking your tongue out at her childishly. 

A sudden rush of wind strikes past you from behind and you hear Hyungwook before you see him as he slams into Geonwoo’s back, shouting his friend’s name. It nearly topples the former before he rights himself again. 

Nari is jostled aside, much to her displeasure, as she flicks her hair back into position, whirling to scowl at the intruder who had split them apart. “Aish! What the hell!”

“Gomen!” Hyungwook raises a hand to admit fault, apologizing first in Japanese, but the look Nari shoots him has him reverting back to Korean. “Mian.”

“Psh.” A disgruntled curse slips past Nari’s lips as she neither acknowledges nor accepts his apology, instead deeming her appearance much more important and studies her phone’s reflective screen to fix her bangs, still disheveled from the accidental shove earlier. Even from the side, you can see her face set in a permanent glower. 

It’s so different from the expression she wore mere moments ago that it throws you for a loop. Possibly, that smile was only reserved for Geonwoo. 

Over the years, you found Nari to be the hardest one to get close to, not for lack of trying, but it was simply the nuance given off after every conversation or encounter.

You had only transferred from your grandmother’s hometown to the city during middle school and so you weren’t all friends from the very beginning, but by proxy of knowing Hajoon, his friend group accepted you easily. 

In retrospect, Nari was blunt from the very beginning, even when you were kids, never one who preferred flowery words or softening the blow from her harsh doses of verbal jabs she called honesty. However, in more recent years, it seemed to you as though something shifted drastically. She skipped school more often, cursed more often, and was more prone to anger. More often than not, it was all at the expense of poor Hyungwook who couldn’t seem to read the room and became the scapegoat for her rage even though he wasn’t to blame in any case. 

If anything, Nari liked you and Seah the most, having once even stated that the two of you made use of your brains and set her off her the least. She would stand up for the both of you on more occasions than one, though her tough love remained as more tough than love. 

You didn’t know if you could call that affection, but it was a part of how she expressed herself and so that was how the friendship dynamic stayed. 

You’re pulled out of your reverie when you hear Geonwoo’s voice. “What is it?” he asks Hyungwook. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You see Hyungwook glance from Geonwoo to Seah beside you, wavering. “I’m saying this because I’ve known you two since middle school, but why are you together so much lately?” Seah stiffens beside you as she exchanges furtive peeks with Geonwoo, Nari pausing midway through her touch-ups. “You guys dating or what?”

“Eyy,” Seah exclaims after a drawn out pause, trying to laugh through it even though you can hear how it falters, her voice quivering. “What are you saying all of a sudden?”

Nari’s eyes shift between everyone, assessing what Hyungwook’s observant nature had already caught onto. 

Geonwoo interposes nippily, clearing the misconception despite it being true. “She and I live in the same building in the same apartment complex. It’s inconvenient to go separately, idiot.”

If neither were going to say anything about it, then you knew to also keep your mouth shut. It wasn’t your secret to tell even if the two in question had confided in you about it during the will-they won’t-they stage. 

“No…no, it’s not for that reason,” Hyungwook insists. “Seah had the habit of being in the classroom first while you always ran in a minute before the bell, forever the last one in. Recently, one of you can always be found where the other is. Something’s up.” Another hushed beat passes. “You guys are starting to become like Hajoon and Yeonha.” He points in your direction. 

“Yah! What’s that supposed to mean?” You shake a finger at him. “Don’t drag me into this!” 

“My bad,” Hyungwook fixes at breakneck speed. “I needed an example and that seemed like the best one.” You halt in shock, slack-jawed and unable to form a coherent sentence at the accusations spouted so matter-of-factly, you had half a mind to speculate whether he was clairvoyant. He turns to Nari when more silence ensues. “Don’t you think so?”

Nari plainly takes a long stare at him before clicking her tongue. “I’m saying this because I’ve known you since elementary school,” she repeats his words back to him. “What’s wrong with you today, you fucking loser?”

Hyungwook purses his lips, brows climbing up on his forehead. “Mwoya? Such an extreme reaction! Im Nari-yang, do you have a crush on Geonwoo-kun?”

Seah snickers, incredulous, as she looks from you to Hyungwook, the two of you having brought up the same possibility within the span of less than five minutes. “Thats ridiculous—”

“Yes.”

Everyone whips their head toward Nari’s voice at the confirmation. 

“Yes?!” Hyungwook parrots, eyes bugging out, not having expected that response from her. 

“Yeah, I do have a crush on Geonwoo, so will you stop talking nonsense this early in the morning?”

“Oh?” Hyungwook blurts. “What an unexpected comeback! If that’s how you want to play it,” he takes a few steps toward her, lowering his voice. “Then, I have a crush on you, Nari-chan.” 

You didn’t know what the rest made of this conversation, but amidst the banter, you could tell only one was lying and it certainly wasn’t Nari. 

“Do you want to fucking die? Must you start my day off so shitty like this?” A slew of expletives tumble out as Nari runs a frustrated hand through her hair. 

“Is that so?” Hyungwook drawls, and you wonder if he could sense the mounting hostility or if he merely took it as nothing more than friendly banter on her part. 

Seah has completely frozen beside you, smile long since dropped from when you first showed up. 

To salvage the situation, Geonwoo throws an arm over his friend’s neck and squeezes just enough to hurt, but not enough to bruise. “Stop making things awkward around here, you otaku. You offended everyone with one sentence. No one’s dating anyone in our circle, alright?”

“Fine, fine! Hyungwook flails in the tight hold, slapping at Geonwoo’s relentless grip. “My neck!” The two wrangle back and forth. “Seriously, it hurts!”

“This will teach you a lesson for next time when you give delusional takes.” 

Nari cusses beside you and stomps away first, peeved, not looking back at anyone. Behind her, Geonwoo and Hyungwook are still play fighting, dragging one another the remaining path toward the gates. 

When all had gone, Seah intones to you, a bit dejected, eyes still looking off in the distance at everyone’s retreating backs, “Maybe you didn’t overthink after all.”

You plop down into your seat glumly, elbows propped on the table high enough to where your face could rest comfortably in between your palms, fingers plastered against your cheeks. 

Hajoon paused in his typing at the change in mood, atypical for you, but decided it’d be better not to ask, trusting you’d tell him if it a serious matter and resumed what he was initially doing. 

Eyeing your friends around the room, it was evident that no one was particularly ecstatic. Even the rest of Class 2-4 had noticed the weird tension, further proven by Nari’s plodding into the classroom earlier on and having chucked her bag down onto the ground with an expression that exuded she didn’t want to be pestered. When you set foot into class, her position remained unchanged: staying with her face toward the room’s side window without a care as to who entered or exited.

You turn to look over your shoulder, seeing Seah frown in your direction from her seat diagonally behind you. Both of you shrugged at one another, a shared understanding of not understanding what was going on. 

Pivoting your body back to your own table, you stretch an arm out across the width of it, collapsing forward to heavily drape your upper body over the edge, cheek pressed against the cool wood. Exhaling out a long, tired breath, you watched as the dust motes danced in the sunlight before closing your eyes resignedly

It wasn’t uncommon for your friend group to have squabbles here and there, as all friend groups do, but it wasn’t common for the main reason to be on a matter of feelings. You didn’t even have a part in this and you knew you’d still have to help resolve it anyway, priding yourself on your emotional intelligence and record of being the peacemaker. Even if that wasn’t the case as proclaimed mediator, you’d still prefer your friends to get along more than they fought. Something seen as trivial now could very well grow into something significant in the future, and if it had the potential to cause permanent strain, then it needed to be addressed sooner rather than later before things turned irreversible, and the friendship, broken beyond repair.

You hear three little taps on your table’s surface and open one eye, the other still closed.

In your line of sight, Hajoon placed a carton of strawberry milk, your favorite drink, in front of you casually. He removes his hand from around the item once he had gained your attention.

You reach up to take one of his in-ear devices out, but just as your hand approaches the side of his face, he beats you to it. “Drink it. Maybe you’ll feel better after.”

He’s glancing down at you still lying with your head against the table, evidently tired.  “Did you get it for me?”

“I picked it off the side of the street on my way here,” he replies nonchalantly.

You scrunch your nose in distaste and elbow his forearm further away from where it was resting in the crevice between your two desks before sitting back up properly. “Gee, what a gentleman you are,” you intone sarcastically, but as you go to open the milk carton and take a sip, you see the slight uplift of Hajoon’s lips as he tries not to smile, putting his earbud back in.

Before you can drink more than two gulps, Hyungwook barrels in like an overexcited hound, slamming himself down into his seat in front of you with such fervor that it rattles the back of his chair against the edge of your desk as he sits facing backwards. 

He starts conversing at rapid speed and seeing as he could neither hear a thing or rely on lip reading, Hajoon heaves a sigh beside you and pulls out both earbuds this time, completely having lost focus on his coding lectures.

“What are you even saying, Hyungwook?”

“I said!” Hyungwook raises his voice slightly and when clusters of classmates turn around to look at him oddly, he lowers his volume instantly after. “I said that Geonwoo almost killed me today. Yeonha can vouch for me.”

“Alright, you’re exaggerating a little there, buddy.” You cross your arms and lean your back against your chair as Hyungwook pouts at you for having taken out the flair from his dramatic retelling. 

Hajoon studies him for a moment. “With a headlock, I’m guessing?” 

Hyungwook claps his hands together, mouth forming a circle in surprise. “Oh?!” As expected of a brainiac.” 

Hajoon merely shakes his head, all of you tiring him out on the daily with your antics, as you repeatedly point to Hyungwook’s slightly pink neck, a pressure line still imprinted in the middle of his throat column. The latter looks down, only then realizing the dead giveaway. 

“Anyway, thats not the important thing,” he begins, rifling through his messy backpack before pulling out his laptop. “This thing won’t turn on again.” He places it on top of Hajoon’s stack of textbooks. “Can you please help?”

“I’m busy these days.” 

It was funny to see the dynamic between the two: one tiredly resistant and the other tirelessly persistent. 

“Then, how about fixing this as my birthday present?” Hyungwook nudges.

“No.”

Hyungwook tilts his head toward you comically without uttering a word, fearing he had reached a dead end. He discreetly points to you, then to him, then back to you, and lastly in Hajoon’s direction. You’re confused out of your mind before he repeats the motions once more and it finally clicks to you. 

“Uh…” you start, Hajoon turning to you with an already exasperated expression as Hyungwook nods encouragingly. “Can you fix it for—” you stammer, and Hyungwook’s eyes go wide, bobbing his head vigorously, “—him?” In your peripheral vision, he switches to shaking his head, that clearly having been the wrong sentence. “I mean—” you go to change your words, “—for me?” it comes out choppy and unsure as you side-eye Hyungwook for approval. 

“Seriously?” Hajoon replies, the boy in question looking on with what can only be described as genuine concern for both of your mental states. 

“Seriously.” You throw in a smile for good measure. “As a birthday present.” 

“The cake wasn’t enough?”

“What?!” Hyungwook chimes in, offended. “You gave her cake but not me?!” He lowers his head slightly, disappointed. 

Hajoon pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I—”

“It’s okay,” you reassure. “I’ll stay up all night to learn basic coding if I have to and try to fix it by myself since he’s not willing.”

You reach over to grab Hyungwook’s laptop but Hajoon intercepts the device, arms sliding in beneath your own and slipping it off the table straight into his backpack. “You know what, I’ll figure out how to fit it into my schedule. If he continues to complain, I’ll lose my patience, and if you continue to lose sleep, I’ll lose my sanity.”

Hyungwook immediately brightens again much to Hajoon’s incredulity. “The pin is the same,” he offers shamelessly, throwing a thumbs up in your direction. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hajoon mumbles, beaten.  

“For you, Yeonha-chan.” Hyungwook unhooks the ghost figurine on his backpack that he got in Japan from a souvenir shop and hands it to you. “A small birthday present but a big thank you for helping me out today and many other times over the years.” 

You knew how precious the item was to him since he had carried it all the way from elementary days until now. “This is your sentimental treasure. I can’t accept it.” You try to push it back toward him, but he adamantly refuses, placing it back into your hand. 

“You carried big time today for me so I hope this charm will bring you even more luck in the future.” Hyungwook replies, jutting his chin toward Hajoon. “It’s always so difficult to get this guy to agree to anything I ask but he never says no to you. What a softie.”

“Call me that again and I’ll change my mind right now,” Hajoon threatens. 

“Oo,” Hyungwook teases. “Softie has not so soft edges.” 

You nearly choke on your drink as your laughter bubbles up, wanting to escape. TO keep from spitting everywhere accidentally, you clamp your free hand over your mouth to suppress the fit. Hyungwook slaps your back to help and you hurriedly put your pointer finger to your lips, indicating for him to shush before your hard work went down the drain. 

“You both give me migraines,” Hajoon declares, rubbing at his temples. 

“You’re welcome, but let’s talk about something more serious,” Hyungwook dismisses naturally. “Yeonha already heard this from me earlier, but—”

“Heard what?” Hajoon leans in. 

“Good morning, class!”

The teacher appearing sends the class to organize themselves swiftly at the authoritative tone and Hyungwook waves a hand in cessation, turning to the front as he whispers, “I’ll tell you later.”

Your homeroom instructor was well-loved by all of you since for his laidback attitude and understanding nature, but one thing he would never tolerate is disrespect.

“My dear students!” We placed first in the math section in Seorin City on the latest mock exam. The whole town had only four perfect scores and three of those were from us,” your homerun teacher joyously announces. Murmurs circled like the summer heat that sweltered in the room, the only source of open air being from the curtainless glass windows that provided no shade. 

You fan yourself and gather your hair in one hand before looking down at your right wrist and realizing that you had, once again, misplaced your hair tie. Switching your locks to to your other hand, you struggle to search with your free one through your pencil pouch for something that could be used as a makeshift hairpin.

As you’re rummaging, Hajoon nudges you and you turn to look at him, seeing his gaze flit down. You follow his line of sight, seeing a hair tie held out toward you between his pointer finger and thumb. 

“I knew you would forget again.” You pause, the earlier milk carton and now this—the little things—that Hajoon had remembered about you, always looking out for you and knowing exactly what you needed wordlessly. You wondered if it was some kind of superpower of his or if it became a skill he had honed over the years of being friends with someone as forgetful as you. 

“Did you pick this up off the side of the street too?” you opt to tease, willing your heart to slow from the crippling palpitations it seemed to do more often recently in his presence than it ever did before. 

Hajoon, sheepish, averted his eyes before elbowing you, clearly embarrassed. You gently laugh to yourself and let it slide, not before noticing the dent left from the elastic around his wrist. The very idea of him having carried it around long enough for it to leave a mark gets to you and when your fingertips brush as you take the hair tie from his outstretched digits, you both pull back as if burned, the fire now making its way to your faces. 

Before you can say anything more, Mr. Kim proceeds with his morning message. “I’m sure you all know who two of those scores belong to,” he pauses for intended suspense before divulging, “Our star students Kang Hajoon and Baek Yeonha.” You both stand up, the acclaim not something neither of you could get used to for all the high marks you both often received and late nights studying together. “Give them a hand!” The class claps in unison, congratulations thrown around loudly and proudly, Seah and Geonwoo’s specific joint hooting and hollering making you giggle. Even Nari applauds despite her less than stellar morning, throwing you a subtle nod. As Hajoon comes across more bashful than you at the crowd’s regard, you turn and clap for him too before raising your hand for a high five, hoping it would help deflect the attention this time. He returns the gesture, interlocking your fingers together and shaking it back and forth, a habit you two always had from childhood. Seeing as you were grinning ear to ear, he automatically smiled too. “Hold your horses and your cheers because we can’t forget about the last perfect scorer…” he carries on as you two settle back into your seats. “Choi. Hyung. Wook.” The teacher pronounces his name slow and with emphasis, almost as if to let your peers process it.

Whereas ovation had erupted before, this time, the space is so muted, one could probably hear the leaves rustling outside if they tuned in. Even you and Hajoon are dumbstruck at the illogicality of it.

“What the f—” a fellow classmate blurts before one sharp look from your instructor has them cutting their own sentence short.

Collective interjections of questionable doubt rings out in the classroom, Hyungwook’s infamous bottom of the barrel grades having earned him the moniker, Choi Yeongjeom, a play on words of his name with the (dis)honor of being “Zero Points Choi.”

Hyungwook himself displayed his lack of conviction at the results, twisting around to look at you and Hajoon in case he misheard. You snap out of your confoundment and gestured with your hands in a motion that signaled him to get up and rise for the honor.

“Baksoo!” Mr. Kim teacher directs and the class follows suit in clapping, gaping at one another in absolute confusion, the sound of palm against palm scattering rather than in sync from belatedly coming to terms with it. Gazing out into the sea of still wandering eyes, the teacher reveals, “Much like you kids, I found it a bit—how do I put this—extraordinary…to accept, but it is indeed true. Well, the masses do say success always comes after setbacks, so remember to never underestimate someone’s ability to change.” Given that Hyungwook can’t help surveying the entirety of everyone’s reactions, legs shaking imperceptibly as he stands still yet to sit, the teacher playfully adds as an afterthought, “Should this be investigated?”

A chorus of, “Yes it does, Ssaem!” circles back to him in an endless loop of affirmatives.

“Well, we’ll get to it when it comes to it. Play as law enforcements in your heads and act as students in reality. Leave some room for curiosity because today’s lecture begins now.” 

After a lesson that dragged on, seemingly even more so from the humidity like air you could wear, and heat that felt as though the Devil was breathing down your neck, you and your friends squeeze your way out the door. As you file out, navigating through the throng of other restless students, you press Hyungwook for answers.

You wind up at the school ground’s vacant west wing where students usually hung out during lunch to avoid the crowded cafeteria, or on the flip side, to partake in impromptu friendly sports matches that had the pitches packed with participants and spectators alike.

In true Nari fashion, she opted for the furthest seat she could, inclined toward personal space, folding arms and crossing legs in meditative preparation for the nonsense she always expected to hear from him at default.

The rest of you spread out on a a chair each, forming a semi circle in front of Hyungwook who had chosen to rest atop a tabletop that forced everyone to have to gaze up, almost as if it were a dais. 

Unlike the usual imagery tied to the raised platform meant for reverence, it was anything but.

There was no honor, no awe, and no fear; it instilled nothing but mere common curiosity rather than unparalleled veneration.

To you, it much more resembled a clock, each of your respective positions, in order going clockwise from Nari, to Geonwoo, to Seah, to you, and finally to Hajoon, it all lined up with a successive number, the center represented by Hyungwook. 

He was the central post, though the collet seemed unsecured to you, just as no one had any idea how he had managed to affix success, usually an otherwise arduous endeavor for him. 

As Hyungwook raises both arms to slowly point at you all in succession, you imagined it as a chronoscope’s hour and minute hands, briefly wondering where the hidden second hand was and what—or who—it could belong to that had equal control without equal appearance. 

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

Seconds, turned into minutes, passed by as your group settled into comfortable positions, confused yet curious, compelled and captivated. 

The still unfinished milk carton brought from class you balanced on your knee, a hand around its circumference to steady it in place. Thrumming your fingers against the papered edged, it makes a dull thudding sound as you speak up.

“Hyungwook, as much as I’m surprised at how the process came to be and even more surprised at the outcome, you still did a good job. Sugoi desu ne!” It didn’t hurt to praise him for the achievement despite the odd circumstance and seeing Hyungwook’s wide smile made it easy to share in the excitement, knowing how inflexible his family was about academic accolades.

“Oh, come on, Yeonha,” Nari pleads, stamping her foot. “Don’t go entertaining him now with that stupid lingo. I always idolized you for being the most sensible of the group. Please don’t ruin that.”

“I agree with Yeonha that this is peculiar,” Seah inserts. “If you have something to tell us, just come clean right here and we can sort through it together, okay?”

Whereas Seah is nothing but nice about it, Nari is all accusatory, turning her attention in your direction. “Yah, smarty pants duo, you both fed him answers in turn, right?” 

You hear Hajoon exhale loudly through his nose. “What are you talking about?” 

“How do you even come to that conclusion?” you add. “We all swapped seats for the exam, remember? None of us were even within reach of one another.”

“That aside,” Geonwoo presses, looking at Hyungwook. “What will you do if the cops decide to pursue this matter further?”

The one in question rolls his ankles and leans back on his arms, titling his head from side to side contentedly. “They’ve got zilch to pin on me.”

“Is that supposed to imply you actually did illegal shit?!” Nari yells, a mixture of bafflement and exasperation that seeps through in her tone. “What the hell is this fucking loser saying now?” she mumbles to herself though it’s meant for everyone to hear before pinning Hyungwook with a menacing glare. “Spit it out already, you bastard.”

“Nari,” you intone lowly, her barrage of insults and condescending attitude toward him having amplified as of late riling you for some reason. “I don’t think this is something so serious for you to be this worked up over. He promised to tell us, and he will if you just wait.”

Nari huffs out a sigh and rolls her eyes at you but otherwise says nothing in retaliation, simply shifting so her back leaned against the metal table behind her. 

Over the long years standing between the two of you, you had learned how to talk to her—to correct her—without stepping on her easy-to-fray nerves or flaring her short temper, which you partly chalked up to the calm but resolute manner in your way of speech, but also the greater part of which being she respected you in some capacity, an amount that outweighed her limited esteem for the rest.

“Anyways,” Hyungwook drags the word out, “If my tomodachis are very, truly, and utterly invested in my secret—” he looks around once before lowering his voice like he was telling inside information no one else should know about. “—I only have one word for you all: Girigo.” 

“Mwo?” Seah sputters in stupefaction. “Gi. Ri. Go?” she asks in a chain, sounding out the three syllables tentatively, almost as if testing out the strange words on her tongue for the first time. 

“Yup!” Hyungwook nods, exhilarated at the mention of it alone. “It’s an app that grants wishes.”

“You know what, maybe it’s not you that’s the dumbass, but it’s me for listening to this bullshit,” Nari spits out, lips pressed together into a thin line. 

Seah jumps in to fan the growing flames. “Look, perhaps Nari could’ve phrased that better, but Hyungwook-ah, let’s please live in reality a little, yeah?” she reminds softly, like a mother teaching a life lesson to her son. “No matter what you’ve told me, I never failed to try and understand you like we’re family, but this…this is too much.” The expression on her face is one of disappointment. “Don’t you think you’re taking this act too far now?” 

Hyungwook shakes his head so hard in response that his hair flops back and forth, the waved strands bouncing up and down. “This isn’t an act!” He doubles down when the rest stare back in dubiety, you included. “Really, it isn’t! There exists something of that kind.”

“No such thing, buddy,” Geonwoo inputs instantaneously, face tilted down toward his screen as he scrolls swiftly. 

“Why would you even bother to look that up?” Nari’s mouth hangs half-open, astounded at Geonwoo’s idiocy before flipping it back onto the former, chock-full of disdain. “How amazing, Choi Hyungwook. You’ve managed to create another fool in your exact image.”

“There’s no fool here,” he retorts. “None of you will find it simply by searching.” He pulls his own phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. “Hold on. I’ll send it. This is just for your guys’ eyes, you understand? A perk of sorts as my friends.”

Ding!

You follow suit as everyone goes to open the group chat where the link pops up, appearing in stark contrast to the familiar bubbles typically reserved for the day-to-day short messages interchanged. 

“I clicked on it.” 

“Geonwoo, I’m telling you, you’re going to get hacked.”

“Nothing to hack here,” he replies to Seah with a broad, mindless grin. She only clucks her tongue at him as she looked him up and down, criticizing the careless choice. “I think this is worth testing—I really do. Isn’t it crazy how he got a perfect score?” 

“What’s truly crazy is how gullible you are.”

“This doesn’t look right…” you mutter under your breath as the letters begin to scramble in your vision, the black bleeding into the whites of your sclera, like spilled ink on pristine paper the longer you gawk at it without blinking. 

“What do you mean?” Hajoon leans in closer to look at your screen, attempting to see what you were seeing. 

“It feels…off.” You can’t quite put your inkling of doubt into words, resorting to simply staring transfixed at it. 

“Off how?” 

“I just don’t get a good sense from it,” you settle, peering at Hajoon on your left. 

He raps a light knuckle against your temple. “One thing you’ve learned most from my sister is her old wives’ tale tendencies it seems.”

“No…it’s not that,” you refute. “There’s too much mystery around it for it to be anything good.”

“All mysteries need solving, no?”

You don’t get a chance to answer as Geonwoo rises suddenly, flipping his phone screen around. 

It reflects Hyungwook’s image and his alone. 

“Dude, the selfie camera just turned on. Is this normal?”

“Of course it is,” Hyungwook reassures, propping his own phone up and configuring it so that the buttons he pressed would take him to the exact same screen Geonwoo’s was on. “This is the record button.”

Geonwoo steps forward and as he blocks the screen, Seah has to lean her body to the side to catch a glimpse. Hyungwook angles it in every direction for a better view all around and even Nari is uncharacteristically engrossed this time. “What is it taping though?”

“Well, your wish of course!” Hyungwook remarks matter-of-factly. “Oh wait.” He points a finger up in the air as if having a lightbulb moment of remembrance. “You have to write your name and your saju on paper first.”

“Saju?” Geonwoo repeats. “Like the stuff they use in divination?”

Saju. 

Saju.

Saju. 

Hajoon taps your forearm. “Earth to Yeonha.” 

“Huh?” you get out absentmindedly before shaking your head to clear it and turning to him.

“You’re still suspicious of it, aren’t you?”

“How can I not be?” You gaze at him in seriousness. “Even if it’s not a joke, it’s a scam, and if it’s not a scam, then it’s real—and that’s even worse,” you reason. “Saju deals with destiny and fate: the year, month, day, and hour. The time blocks are all tied to your life.”

Hajoon, ever the rationalist, doesn’t buy into it, but entertains your worries nonetheless. “Isn’t it just fortune-telling?” 

“It’s not just fortune-telling,” you emphasize. “It’s our entire existence.” You stare at him, hoping the gravity of it gets across to him, your fingers tightening around the cold metal of your phone. “When we’re born, other than the associated numbers, the first thing we receive is our name. It is something that belongs to us and is what makes us, us.” 

“Now you’re making it sound unnerving,” Hajoon undertones, a crease forming between his eyebrows. 

“I’m not trying to…” you trail off.  “Whether you believe it or not, a name has always defined someone; it is a branding, an image, and a state of being all in one. If you know not a person’s name, you know not their identity—” you pause. “—But to know every facet of someone’s existence will give you dominion over them.”

Hajoon contemplates your words, at a loss as to what else to say, the weight and possibility of something he hadn’t considered before such as surrendering all control to another being quieting him. 

In the background, Hyungwook continues on teaching Geonwoo, the only one actively listening. “You just give up everything.”

“Everything of yourself?”

“Yes, and after you do, hold the piece of paper you wrote on up to the screen and document it while you outline your wish.”He demonstrates, even closing his eyes for maximum reenactment. Not a second later, he opens it, adding, “You have to really mean it, though. Be sincere and act like you want it…desperately.”

“I think you’re desperate enough without asking,” Nari gets out in between laughs as she slaps the table behind her, genuinely finding the situation hilarious as tears come to her eyes from the hilarity of it all. 

Hyungwook chooses to ignore her and gives following directions. “Once you finish recording your wish, be sure to hit send. That’s it.”

“Why are you guiding us so in-depth as if we’ll actually make wishes?” you ask as Hajoon peers at Hyungwook askance, the presentation having done nothing to tide him over to the side of belief. 

“Aren’t you all?”

“No,” Nari deadpans. 

“Where do you even find stuff like this?” Seah queries. 

“I have my ways…”

Geonwoo scratches his head. “This made your wish come true?”

Hyungwook chuckles. “Oh ye of little faith. You want proof?” 

“Of course I do. Otherwise this will turn out to be a prank for the books you pulled over on us.”

There’s a beat of silence as Hyungwook browses his camera roll. “Exhibit A: My wish video.” 

When he flips his phone sideways and angles it toward the group, perhaps the grandest prank was that you self-imposed apprehension for no reason. 

Nari’s boisterous chuckle rings out in the background and she nearly slips from her seat at the senseless nature of it. 

“What are you doing?” Geonwoo places a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his own humor at bay given what he was watching play out in front of him: Hyungwook with printer paper taped to his forehead, hands clasped together, and eyes closed, chanting a passionate prayer.

My wish is to get a perfect score in math. A perfect score in math, please! A perfect score! Perfect score! Score! Score! Score! 

The video resounds blaringly in the vicinity, though everyone is wonderstruck, left to wonder who exactly to blame for getting duped.

“It suddenly hits me how deep our friendship runs…and how fucking high our IQ’s much reach,” Nari wisecracks snarkily, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and sauntering away, disappearing around the corner.

Geonwoo throws an arm over Seah’s shoulder as she grimaces, the two lowering their heads in second-hand embarrassment as they walk to the other end of the courtyard.

You on the other hand, stayed back to approach Hyungwook. Hajoon, wanting to wait for you, leaned against an awning pillar with his arms folded, shaking his head. 

“Where are you guys going? I have more proof…”

“Hyungwook, I get that you’re constantly stressed about your grades and that your family hasn’t been the most supportive given what you’ve told me about them and how they pressure you over the littlest failures…but this isn’t the solution.” 

“It made me proud of myself, though,” Hyungwook mumbles with his head down. “Don’t you think my family will finally be proud of me for once too?”

You soften, bending at the waist to place a hand on his shoulder, patting upliftingly. “Those who really care about you will be proud of you regardless. You shouldn’t push yourself to meet the demands of others. It won’t help to drain yourself completely in order to fill someone’s expectations wholly.”

“I know you’ve always treated me nicely, Yeonha, but you guys only believe in me and never believe me—there’s a difference.” You right yourself, hand coming off his shoulder as he goes to show you the Girigo software once more, but before he can reload it, you give him a pat on the head and go to where Hajoon was.

“Does it still unsettle you?” Hajoon questions, walking close enough that your arms overlap as you take steps forward.

“Look at Exhibit B, the notification I got when my wish was granted….” Hyungwook calls out behind you and you turn back around, seeing his phone screen flicker on of its own accord, showcasing a large red circle, front and center. 

In that final glimpse, your vision fully clouds over almost as though your eyes were doused in the light of roaring fires, reflecting the colors of flared flames. It floods your perception so suddenly and so vividly, you stumble haphazardly, the milk carton in your hand topples to the ground and spilling its contents onto the pavement. 

With your sight still saturated in a sea of scarlet, the puddle had become liquid turned into blood.

“Yeonha!” Hajoon reaches out to hold onto your elbow as you try to regain your balance, one foot tripping over the other still. He uses his other arm to right you before he takes a look at your face, eyes widening in shock. “You’re bleeding…”

Only then does it register to you the trails running down from your nostrils, headed for a straight decent to the ground. 

Drop.

Tick.

Drop.

Tock.

Drop.

Tick…

Whether you chose to call it superstition, or intuition, or even premonition, in the end, that nameless sense of foreboding was there to stay. 

It cuts like a knife.

And stains like blood. 

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 @cycynsstuff @kookoorokoo

🕯️ 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮.

Watching this series for the second time to write made me notice so many details I missed in the first run-through! It's actually crazy how much I analyzed everything for this that it felt like I was back in AP literature class haha. Hopefully that teacher is proud (in spirit) of what I took away all those years ago. Kudos to those who can catch all the symbolism and foreshadowing I stuffed into this update alone! Also, if anyone would like to be notified for future chapters, leave me a comment and I'll add you to the existing taglist!

𝟎𝟏 : 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 |

A soft intake of breath and even quieter whispers, it seemed to be beckoning you toward its source with every cyclic repetition, syllable by syllable.

Through the impenetrably thick smog, the wisps of air carrying the rasps of desperation on its currents begin to tangle, curling inward on one another, grappling for something in the vast void of nothing.

Little by little, an outline takes form, abstract at first, then gradually merging together into the silhouette of a figure cloaked in the tenebrosity of obscurity like a forest of dark trees with no sliver of moonlight; like a night sky devoid of shimmering stars.

It's near impossible to catch a glimpse of the manifestation, much less stitch together the fragmented pieces of your mind's eye into a resemblance of recognition.

What you do manage to make of that which you conceive of, is a pair of ink-black irises: soulless, sorrowful, and lost.

Try as you might, you can neither seem to turn away nor ignore it.

Its very essence is cold and distant, but simultaneously tinged with unexpected warmth at the blurred fringes, luring you toward a lie enveloped by false truths; toward a nightmare disguised as a daydream.

Helixes of vapor coil and twine around you, one murmuring your surname into your left ear, the second muttering your name into your right ear, and the third is a soundless vortex, aiming straight for your soul.

It closes in on you, looming until it nearly converges with your sole being, only halting when it comes within centimeters of your face before parting in half to reveal the earlier lifeless pair of oculi, still shut in slumber.

Suddenly, the lashes flutter once.

Then, the eyes snap open.

You come to, startling awake, ebony irises unblinkingly staring at the bright white ceiling above you, a stark contrast to the shroud of desolate dimness your somnolence had conjured.

The world outside hadn't even fully woken up yet, day yet to wholly break.

Diffuse morning sunlight filters through your lace curtains, the glass window panels refracting sunbeams to cast feeble shadows as though nature was both the artist and the art, your walls the blank canvas.

Despite the beauty, in the moment, that muted brightness was merely a penumbra, for you were still trapped on the dark side of an eclipse—on the back of a forgotten, empty canvas locked away where not even the most luminous of solar rays could pierce through.

You're frozen in place, arms rigid at your sides on the bed and hands clutching at your bedsheets, fingers clenched so hard in your grip that you can feel your nails digging indents into the lines of your palms. Beads of sweat dot your hairline as you force yourself to take in ragged deep breaths, your heart thumping madly against your ribcage for your mind was your own but your body evidently still was not.

It wasn't a rare occurrence for you to experience insomnia or have such vivid illusions in your dreams, but after years of its recurrence dwindling, the figments waning as you grew older, you thought you could finally be at peace—that you could be free.

Perhaps, you never would be.

The imagery still fresh in your psyche had appeared so chilling, so permanent, and so real, that you can still feel the brush of air against your limbs, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your nose stings from the smell of the miasma that enveloped you in its mist, the lingering stench of death saturating the atmosphere, unable to be masked behind the aromatic hints of incense. No amount of spice, earthy resins, or traces of floral scents could clear the smoky haze of a room caressed by the Grim Reaper's tainted touch.

That breathy voice, those whispers—those susurrant airy summons—continued to echo long after, ringing ceaselessly in your ears. The sonants resound, but you're unable to discern whether it is a cry for help or a plea for attention.

"Baek Yeonha!"

For a split second, the address transports you back into phantasm, but the distinct tenor alerts of a human presence this time around.

Someone was at the door and from their incessant knocking, they've been there for a while.

With the knowledge that you were finally back in the land of the living, it no longer felt like you were left to drown in the ocean's abyss. Your body that earlier laid heavy as if weighed down by stones and your appendages that were tied to ropes tethered to chasms could at last relax, your lungs no longer burning with each respiration.

"Just a second!" you shout, hoping it's loud enough to hear from downstairs, your shaky voice foreign to your own ears.

Before you even have a chance to recollect yourself entirely, you act on autopilot, hanging your feet off your bed and nearly trip over your duvet in haste when your legs attempt to give out. It was almost comical, the difference in speed and engagement at which you were moving compared to minutes prior, like night and day.

Reaching the foyer, you swing open your front door and Hajoon is there, arm still raised with fist hanging in midair prepared to knock again, backpack strap hanging off of one shoulder.

The early sunshine on high blinds you and you have to squint against it to refocus your vision, but once it clears, this time only Hajoon's eyes that sparkled with the warmth of familiarity look back at you and suddenly, the dream that suppressed you disappears from your rumination, your nerves melting away.

He tilts his head to the side, taking in your disheveled appearance, confusion written all over his face. "Well, hello to you, too?"

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, tapping your foot in annoyance. "Thanks for jolting me awake, idiot. Brought me right out of my sleep paralysis." Narrowing your eyes at him, you point a finger accusingly. "Were you the demon who disturbed me?"

Hajoon simply shakes his head while clucking his tongue in mock disapproval, lowering your hand. "Be grateful I did because you were sure giving Sleeping Beauty a run for her money."

"So, you're saying that I'm beautiful?"

"I'm saying you need more sleep," he deadpans.

"Yah!" You try to kick him in the shin as petty revenge but he dodges it easily, well-versed in the art of defense that comes naturally with over a decade of friendship experience.

He eventually brings his other arm out from behind his back, a cake box appearing in view.

"Do that again and I'm eating this entire thing myself."

"For me?" Your initial displeasure gives way to genuine surprise.

"Who else? It's your milestone birthday."

Although you're touched, you'd die before you voiced it out loud, resorting to teasing instead, your default way of showing you cared. "Now I'm finally part of the elderly club with you."

"Watch it. I'm only 6 months older than you."

"Alright, great elder," you joke, trying not to snicker at the miffed expression on your childhood best friend's face. "You've never done this before, so why now?"

Hajoon looked nervous then to answer, which was strange because he never looked nervous. It wasn't like him to act mushy in any circumstance, temperament like that of a cat who gave the idea of being disinterested outwardly but tender inwardly. He was the kind of character teachers and parental figures trusted automatically. Caring. Calm. Good at everything in an effortless way. This was the Hajoon you knew and grew up with.

But, the Hajoon that stood in front of you right then seemed like a different person. In all seriousness he rambles, almost shyly, looking everywhere else but at you, "Yeonha, you never want or accept birthday presents from any of us and I've been saving up from fixing devices for people to get you something that could at least equal or surpass the theoretical gifts that would've accumulated over those years..."

It warms your heart when you realize Hajoon had always celebrated your birthday with you for the past eighteen years, never once forgetting it. Even if you were alone due to conflicting circumstances, he always made sure to spend the day of with you.

Before he can say more, you fling your arms around his neck so suddenly he has to resort to pulling the cake away so it wouldn't get smushed between the two of you or topple to the floor, whichever had greater potential to happen first. The force of your hug drives him back off the doorstep, so much so, that the container continues to swing back and forth from the handle in his snug hold even when all other movements ceased.

You two rarely ever embraced even though it was a common occurrence during your childhood. Both of you were clingier as little kids, and sometimes you wonder what changed between then and now. Granted, you weren't big on physical touch to display affection, but where you were not so much inclined to it, he was even less than that.

Hajoon freezes at first, arms dangling by his sides. "What is this for?" You can feel his heartbeat instantly increasing rapidly, the thumping sending vibrations through your own chest in the now nonexistent space between the two of you.

"I'm thankful is all," you reply, voice muffled into the line of his shoulder as you attempt to suppress your smile, but you knew he could feel your cheek bunching up where it was pressed against the side of his.

Just as you're about to pull away to save him from the onslaught of random endearment, he unexpectedly returns the embrace tightly, arm wrapping around your waist only for the briefest of seconds but the gesture lasts long enough that it naturally lifts you into rising on tiptoes, your slippers hanging half off the soles of your feet.

"Happy eighteenth, Yeonha." The tone with which he phrases it is so soft, breath from his exhale at the sentence's end tickling the shell of your ear, that you would've missed it altogether if you weren't paying so much attention.

Unprompted, it's at that exact moment your elderly neighbor saddles by on his morning stroll with his dog. He's all bright eyes and wide smiles at the scene, and even his white Pomeranian, Tteok, wags its tail.

You can't let go fast enough, just about shoving Hajoon away, smile settling into a stiff, almost corporate, grin as you bow politely to your neighbor, waving in embarrassment as Hajoon does the same after regaining his balance from your reflexive shove, sending you a bewildered look from the side that you pretend you don't see.

"Ah...halabeoji...good morning," you greet, blundering.

"Good morning indeed it seems," he returns, gaze flitting back and forth in the space between you and Hajoon with a considerably knowing eye and you wished nothing more than to dig a hole in the ground to crawl into.

You laugh awkwardly, hoping the encounter would end sooner rather than later. Mr. Yang was, without fail, friendly and kind to you and the rest of the kids in the neighborhood yet this is the first time you didn't know how to keep a conversation going with him.

"Enjoy your walk, sir," you come up with at last, subtly hinting to conclude the hap meeting.

"A man as old as me knows when it's his signal to bow out. Don't worry child, I won't tell your grandmother!"

Hajoon scratches the back of his neck, lips pressed together in a thin line, not knowing how to politely correct the misunderstanding when this man was so adamant.

You open your mouth wanting to articulate that there was nothing at all to talk or not talk about, but Mr. Yang was already well on his way, jovially leading his dog along, disappearing quickly down the street with a flair-filled backwards wave.

"Happy birthday to me, I guess..." you grouse, sliding a hand down your face in chagrin, cheeks aflame, as Hajoon tries, but fails, to hold in his laughter beside you.

The sun is up on high by the time you finish getting ready for school and as you go downstairs, you find a table full of all your favorite breakfast foods on display.

Your mouth hangs open at the sight, unable to fathom where it all came from. "You made this in that little of time?" you question Hajoon.

He playfully smacks a piece of paper onto your forehead as he places the last dish onto the dining table.

You reach up and remove the post-it note, seeing your grandmother's neat handwriting scrawled across its surface: 𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 — 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝓈𝑜 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝒸𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇. 𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁. 𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼'𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃. 𝐻𝓊𝑔𝓈, 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒾.

"Still think I'm capable of cooking this?" Hajoon gestures to the table, raising one eyebrow questionably.

"Actually, I wasn't confident about it so that's why I asked. No wonder my house didn't burn down." You stick your tongue out at him in jest. The wooden chair you pull out squeaks across the floor but even the usually grating sound sounds pleasant today.

"You just get sassier the older you become or something," Hajoon intones, dragging out the chair opposite you as you snicker at his nose scrunching up, a force of habit.

"You signed up for this friendship so now you're stuck with me, whatever version you may get."

"Unfortunately..." he remarks under his breath, all the while placing the bowl of traditional seaweed soup in front of you then pressing a spoon into your right hand and placing a pair of chopsticks beside you.

You cup your hand around your ear and lean your head closer across the table. "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

"I said fortunately," Hajoon's quick wit response saving him, sending you into a fit of giggles.

"That's what I thought."

In the back of your mind, it dawns on you that Hajoon looked unfairly comfortable in your home; your safe space.

But then again, he always had.

He had been walking into your house without knocking since he was old enough to reach the doorknob. Your grandmother barely looked up anymore whenever he appeared in the kitchen. Truly, half the time she would make him breakfast before she made you any.

It wasn't odd for him to be there, in your humble abode, but it was unlikely for it to be you and him alone.

As the two of you sit in comfortable silence while digging into the homemade feast your grandma prepared, Hajoon places a piece of rolled omelet in your bowl before looking up at you and inquiring, "Is there anything you want to do for your birthday? Maybe after our classes end today or perhaps on the weekend when we're less busy?"

Staring off to the side, you pause to think, but when you look back ready with an answer, you find Hajoon staring at you. "What is it?" When he doesn't answer, you have reason to believe there's something on your face and are about to pick up a napkin to wipe it off but before you can do so, he reaches across the table and pokes your cheek with his pointer finger.

"You always stuff your cheeks when you eat like a chipmunk."

You swat his finger away although you weren't annoyed in the least bit. "Well, this chipmunk has decided what she wants to do this weekend." Hajoon looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to respond. "I want to go visit Hayoung unnie."

Hajoon stops mid-chew, face falling slightly before he puts his chopsticks back down flat on the table. "Yeonha, we've talked about this before..."

You sigh, seeing that reaction coming from a mile away but still wanting to try your luck regardless. "You really would never go back?"

⩤ 𝙏𝙒𝙊 𝙔𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙎 𝘼𝙂𝙊 ⩥

"Yeonha-ah," Hayoung waves you over to where her and Bangwool were in the living room. 

Growing up, you probably spent more time at the Kang's than anywhere else. It helped that you were neighbors first and foremost, but it was also because your grandmothers had been best friends since birth, never having had a fallout in their friendship that spanned decades.

They were so close to the point they decided to settle down next to one another in their hometown after graduating college and getting married respectively, preferring the quaint, quiet, and peaceful, village life on the outskirts of town rather than the hustle and bustle of the overcrowded city landscape.

Your grandma's old residence that doubled as an acupuncture and folk medicine clinic at one point reached an age incapable of remodeling, so your grandparents reluctantly reached the hard but necessary decision of allowing the village head to demolish it. Afterward, they moved back to the city after your adoption, reopening their business again.

It went without saying that Hayoung's grandmother also didn't remain in the same place her entire life, having wanted to be closer to her own children and therefore relocated back to the city as well, though a much greater distance from your own grandma.

Following her marriage, Hayoung's grandparents gifted the couple their village house, sensing how the two fit right into the environment, the preference for remoteness and appeal of being surrounded by nature a mirror image reminding them of themselves in their youth.

No matter the distance, that didn't stop you from coming by your grandmother's hometown often though. She was never against it, and the townspeople doted on you given their exceptional relationships with your family. It was quite the opposite actually. Your grandmother encouraged you to pay visits to Hayoung and Bangwool as long as you didn't go alone. She heavily valued the generational friendships and whenever Hajoon went back, so could you.

Your grandmother was a big part of your life, and ever since the day she took you in when you were no more than a month old, the bond had been forged like iron. She was your biggest supporter and forever your greatest motivation, regardless of blood ties. Not only did she give you unconditional love, so did her closest friends and their families.

You were eternally grateful to have grown up knowing what it meant to both give and receive love, only in abundance and never in scarceness.

It was predestined, the connection between the two families.

But you knew, nothing good lasts forever. Change is inevitable in every facet of life.

You just didn't think it'd change so soon and so fast.

"What is it, unnie?" you sit down beside her, seeing two pieces of blank paper in front of you.

"Can I ask you to write down your name and birthday for me?" When you look at her puzzled, she explains further, "I want to make protection charms is all."

You'd never speak of it to your grandmother, but you were certain you were born with a sixth sense, which seemed to further amplify when you were around those with strong spiritual ties, like Hayoung herself, who had only recently tuned into her own abilities.

It wasn't that your grandmother was a skeptic, or even adverse to the idea of someone having a greater intuition—what some would call the ability to sense the otherworldly—but she was a firm believer in not tampering with anything she couldn't see, or in other words, the unknowns of the world. She liked certainty, stability, and safety.

But you don't blame her because who wouldn't want those things? Search for it? Pursue it?

That peace.

Curiosity only kills the cat.

And like her, even if you were curious, the kind of knowledge that could only be gained at a high price perhaps should remain as ignorant bliss.

After all, there is no such thing as something worth dying for...is there?

You were always hesitant to bring up this supposed sense of yours, in fear of disappointing her. As far as you were concerned, you couldn't even fully understand the extent of your own capabilities yet, much less what it entailed.

Visions, you've seen them.

Energies, you've felt shift.

Spirits, you've sensed them.

None of these ever lasted long enough, unsettled you enough, or lingered long enough for it to be anything more than an attunement.

You never explored it and didn't have the courage to seek it either, so you let it rest idle if only to let your mind rest unaware.

Coming out of your reverie, you nod, and begin scribbling down the information Hayoung prompted for, while she does the same with Hajoon's.

"You're not going to tell him to write his own?" you speak to her, pen pausing mid-stroke.

Hayoung finishes off the last number and huffs, turning to you. "I only want to keep him safe but you know how he gets when I bring these things up..." she trails off, and you simply hum in acknowledgement, understanding entirely, given Hajoon's unpropitious outlook on mysticism.

"Are you collecting their sajus to check for future compatibility or what?" Bangwool comments off-handedly as he observes, one leg folded in and the other propped up, knee balancing his moving arm. 

"Samchon—"

Bangwool pivots and flaps his hand fan in your direction, a gust of air blowing your hair back away from your face. "Yah, how come she's 'unnie,' but you keep calling me uncle ever since the day you met me, sister-in-law? I'm not that old...am I?" he rattles off in one breath, mock-offended, but still handing you a slice of freshly cut watermelon anyway. The nickname he recently coined for you you've already grown used to, and even Hajoon had long since given up on trying to get Bangwool to change it, knowing it was formed without malice or suggestion.

You can't help but chortle. Bangwool says serious things sometimes but he never sounds it. Somehow, the situation always turns comedic in his presence whether he intends for it to or not.

Yet to think of an answer, Hayoung expresses on your part bluntly and without missing a beat, "Keep up this nonsense talk and she'll call you ahjussi next—and I'm joining in." You hide your laugh behind your hand as Bangwool, flabbergasted, opens his mouth to retort, but before he can, Hajoon comes stomping in from the side room, Hayoung's study.

"Oh, Hajoon—" Hayoung calls out, but as you look over, your earlier melodic laughter dies in your throat seeing how furious he was, more than you've ever seen him.

"What is this?" he cuts her off, not even bothering to greet back, holding an officially stamped sheet of paper and pointing to it. He was gripping it so hard, the edge became wrinkled beneath his fingers, the light page shaking in his hold.

"I can explain—" Hayoung begins, countenance dropping in color, but she's interrupted once more.

"Explain how?" Hajoon runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "That you quit your job? And to what? Chase after nonexistent spirits?"

"Brother-in-law...I don't think you should speak to your sister that way," Bangwool attempts to pacify the situation and act as a middleman although you could tell he was uncomfortable because his posture wasn't as relaxed and playful as it was mere moments ago.

"Don't call me that." Hajoon swivels to glare at Bangwool. "You're an outsider. And outsiders can't speak on family matters."

Bangwool resignedly sighs and shakes his head but the riposte greatly riled Hayoung, who rises from her seated position and goes to stand right in front of her brother. "Kang Hajoon, you've crossed the line this time."

"Have I?" Hajoon spits out mockingly. "At least I'm honest, noona. Unlike you."

"Hajoon-ah," you begin, warning, "you're going to end up saying something you'll regret."

He doesn't respond even though you know he hears you.

"Why do you care so much about what I choose or don't choose to do with my own life?" Hayoung challenges.

"Because!" Hajoon shouts, crumpling the piece of paper and tossing it aside. It bounces off the floor and lands beside you. "Your old job had so much room for growth and development, and not only are you passionate about teaching students, you're also good at it at it so why—" he emphasizes the word, "—do you feel the need to leave all that behind and go after something so futile?"

You open up the crumpled ball and scan the contents quickly.

It was a granted permanent leave from duty.

"Why can't you see that this might be something I'm passionate about too?" Hayoung fires back, voice rising. "I would still be helping people. Saving others is never futile."

"What future is there if you're just gambling with risks and dangers?" Hajoon's fists are clenched by his sides, knuckles turning white from the tension.

"How would this affect you in any way? Huh, Hajoon?" At that point, Bangwool had stood up too, attempting to pull his wife back to no avail.

"Because you're my sister!"

"That's a weak excuse and even you know it!”

"How is it an excuse if it's true? You can do greater things than this.”

There's a short moment of silence before realization dawns on Hayoung and she half scoffs, half laughs, the sound coming out bitter. "So this is what it boils down to. You're ashamed of what I do...of me."

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"Unnie...that's not true..." you jump to your feet and do your best to nudge Hajoon, signaling for him to apologize as Bangwool finally succeeds in drawing Hayoung back a few steps in the opposite direction, the two of you wanting to salvage the situation.

Hajoon sidesteps you and simply stares at his sister in shock. "Is that the kind of brother you think I am?"

"Can you prove otherwise?" Hayoung grits out. "You could be more supportive. That's all I ask for. You don't have to agree, and you don't have to accept, but you could be happy for me at the very least." The hush that follows is loud enough to hear a pin drop. "If you're so embarrassed to have a shaman sister then maybe...you should leave."

Bangwool and you exchange a look, one of disbelief, not knowing what to do to fix this.

Was there anything left to fix?

You turn to Hajoon but his outrage had simmered once again, incited by the ultimatum. "Maybe I will! But don't expect me to come back!" With that, he sweeps up his backpack he dropped off when he arrived for the weekend and slams the door behind him without a backwards glance.

The sound reverberates in the empty room, oscillation of the strong movement on the hinges derisive, taunting like unending slews of ridicule at the expense of someone.

"Hajoon, wait!" Hayoung exclaims belatedly, already going to run after her younger brother but Bangwool keeps her rooted to the spot.

"Look Haetsael..." he conveys calmly. "Let brother-in-law cool off. Teenagers are quick to anger with their temper and often say things they don't mean."

Hayoung numbly looks off into the distance, almost as if she could see through the closed door to bridge the rift that had formed. "It sounded like he meant it to me..."

Bangwool's lips turn downward, abnormally hushed, the first time you've seen him at a loss for words.

You give Hayoung what you hope is a comforting touch to her forearm. "Unnie, I'll try my best to talk to him...but I can't promise it'll go over well."

She only squeezes your hand in thanks, forcing the tiniest of smiles even as you notice the tears suspended on the rims of her eyes, but her expression tells you she knows it'll be difficult to overturn today.

Bangwool nods at you behind her, grateful either way, and you hurriedly dash outside after Hajoon.

He's walking a ways away already, but you run with all your might and manage to catch up to him, grabbing his arm. "Hajoon...hold on," you plead, out of breath from your sprint in order to reach him.

"Don't try to tell me to come back, Yeonha," he puts forth, reading what you intended to say without you needing to vocalize it. "Just because I never tell you 'no' doesn't mean that I can't start."

You know it's futile to change his mind once it has been made up.

"I'm not."

His eyes scan your own as if he was searching for a lie, the truth, or some minuscule trace of resoluteness like his.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm leaving with you."

Through the open windows, humid midsummer air sneaks in, as much uninvited as you felt. Over the blaring high-pitched rhythmic buzzing of cicadas, it still isn't loud enough to drown out the suffocating silence of the bus ride back to the city.

You've never sat in reticence for so long with Hajoon before where neither of you knew what to say; where neither of you had nothing to say to one another.

Aside from the two of you, it was at full capacity, the conversations of the passengers creating a much needed buffer amidst the quiescence. Still, you filter out the noise entirely, focused on stealing glances at him from time to time, a constant presence in your peripheral vision.

Hajoon sat by the window in the very back row beside you, temple pressed against the glass panel, rubber weatherstrips emanating searing heat, watching absentmindedly with gaze affixed as the city blurred past outside in streaks of late evening orange and gold, the sun soon to set but which had not, like the city was burning—like the dying embers of fury.

The sun casts shadows on the contours of his face and you notice the set of his jaw, the furrow between his brows, and the way his eyes remained unblinking, staring at nothing even though the landscape whirred by, time slipping away.

You sigh near inaudibly and finally avoid your eyes, clutching your bag closer to yourself for comfort, leaning your head against the headrest, worn leather peeling from the swelter of the heatwave.

Hajoon hadn't moved an inch ever since you both boarded. His tight fist around his backpack strap placed atop his lap falls into your line of vision and for some misplaced reason, you have the sudden urge to loosen it and slip your fingers through his.

It was nothing more than friendly worry.

It was nothing more than hoping for his anger to fade away.

It was nothing more than wanting to resolve the situation.

It was...nothing more than an unbidden thought.

The late afternoon warmth, the lull of scattered talks, and the steady swaying of the ride with every low hum of the engine gradually cause your eyes to close, your head tilting slightly to the side. You upright it every time you feel yourself begin to slip away into the welcoming arms of slumber, fighting a losing battle against sleep one blink at a time.

Your head lolls once.

Stay awake.

Then, twice.

Don't sleep.

Despite your best efforts, your head still falls forward, marginally missing bumping into the headrest in front by centimeters.

The third time, a hand delicately touches your face, grazing your cheek faintly to angle your head toward them, letting you rest comfortably on their shoulder.

Hajoon.

You're in that limbo between sleep and dreams where you can't discern which side you're closer to, whether it's real or an illusion.

You awaken instantly, blinking in bewilderment, looking up only to find Hajoon already gazing down at you, the crease between his eyebrows now gone.

You shift, about to move away, but Hajoon uncurls his fist and wraps his hand around yours, holding you still.

It stupefies you, hyperaware of where your head, that he redirected you toward, was now resting. The warmth of his shoulder beneath your cheek, the faint scent of fabric softener clinging to his shirt, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing muddles you.

"Hajoon—"

"Rest, Yeonha—and I mean properly. I know it doesn't come often for you."

"How can I sleep knowing you don't want to talk it out and are still unhappy?"

When you peer up at him again, Hajoon takes his palm and runs it over your eyes, gently guiding them to close before lowering his head, tilting it sideways to rest atop your own, the movement shifting both of you closer to one another.

"I'm not unhappy right now," he replies, voice calm and low like it was only supposed to be for you to hear, and although you can't figure out the true meaning behind it, your chest tightens anyway.

"Are you still angry then?" you whisper, daring to probe.

"At you? Never."

"But I still can't convince you to go back, right?"

You can feel Hajoon's head nodding affirmatively. "You said you were going to leave with me, though." In a much silenter comment as if he was afraid to confirm it, he queries, "Have you changed your mind?"

"Never."

Carefully, cautiously, you let herself relax against him.

The last thing you remember is Hajoon squeezing your hand, still enveloped in his warmly.

And when you finally drifted into real sleep a few minutes later, Hajoon looked down at you discreetly, something unbearably tender settling onto his visage and into his heart.

Hajoon lights the candles on the cake he brought and proceeds to turn off the lights to set the ambiance.

"Speaking of my sister," he states, pulling his backpack onto his lap and unzipping it to pull out a package, "this is for you, personally mailed by her."

It was wrapped nicely, the bow tied in your favorite color.

"What is it?" You handle the gift with care as Hajoon places it into your hands.

The candlelight softened the sharp edges of his face as he rested his chin against the knuckle of his raised arm, dark hair falling messily over his forehead from not bothering to style it yet. He grins faintly, knowingly. "Open it."

You try to preserve the wrapping paper as you unwrap it but the more pieces you removed, the less you couldn't, for the life of you, even guess as to what it could be.

Hajoon watches on as you thoughtfully removed the present from the box, trying very hard not to notice how steady your hands looked compared to the sudden chaos inside his own chest.

It was a silver bangle engraved with intricate patterns on the surface, almost like runes. The vines wrap around the circumference and you run the pads of your fingers lightly over the grooves, feeling the small divots beneath your digits.

"It's beautiful..." you gasp in awe.

"It suits you," he intones softly, wholly sincere, and judging by the way Hajoon immediately pauses afterward, he hadn't meant to say it out loud, aware too late the words that tumbled from his mouth. His gaze lingers on your face a little too long before slowly sliding his eyes back down to the accessory in your hand. "I'll help put it on."

"You don't have to..." you remark, but find yourself moving your chair closer; close enough that your knees almost touch his beneath the table.

"Your wrist, please," Hajoon directs, and as you extend your arm, he pulls your hand in one of his toward him and holds the bracelet in his other to slip it onto your wrist. Perhaps he forgot, but his fingers remain around yours, grasping it still.

The warmth spreads from your wrist all the way to your face.

This unwarranted reaction was entirely absurd to you for you'd both held hands before, hundreds, thousands of times. From waddling in playgrounds as toddlers, to crossing streets together as kids, to running through crowds as teens, and all the way down to mindlessly pulling each other around for the past eighteen years like it was nothing, but somehow, someway, this felt different.

Maybe it was because he was moving so carefully.

Maybe it was because his thumb brushed lightly against the inside of your wrist, neither of you wanting to be the first to pull away.

Or maybe it was because the glow from the light of the candles in the dark made his eyes shimmer fondly, like amber dipped in liquid gold.

If you blink, you'd have missed it, that unbearably tender look he got sometimes when he thought you weren't paying attention.

The bracelet settles against your skin with a soft metallic sound, echoing the beating of your heart you were trying your best to subdue. In an attempt to dismiss its atypical fluttering, you raise your forearm in the air and give it a shake, the bell on it tinkling like laughter in the dark when it rattles against the lotus and butterfly charms. The yellow sun crystal glows from the reflection of the flames and you beam at it, smiling from ear to ear.

Hajoon does too, unaware to you, seeing you so happy. He had helped his sister when she asked for suggestions and that's the longest conversation they have had in the past year but you didn't need to know that.

You didn't need to know he picked the design himself, hand-selecting everything down to each individual charm so that it all held a deep meaning that you weren't privy to.

You also didn't need to know the cake wasn't the only present from him. He was adamant in sharing the expenses for the gift with his sister and brother-in-law, refusing to take no for an answer.

Neither did you need to know that to him, your smile was brighter than the glow of the candles and he couldn't seem to look away.

"Hajoon?" you call, snapping your fingers in his face, half confused and half concerned."Are you okay? You've just been looking at me without saying anything for a while."

"Yeah...it's...nothing. I...lost focus is all." Hajoon has to pull himself out of his daze, clearing his throat and gesturing to the cake where the candles were already starting to melt. When he sees you about to pry further, he urges you with, "Time for you to make a wish."

Casting everything else aside, you ponder deeply, always having been one to take your wishes seriously and consider them with your utmost intentions.

You clasp your hands together and close your eyes.

I wish...

🕯️ 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮.

The reader is named in this case for ease of reading since not everyone is a fan of seeing 'y/n' in the dialogues and/or having to insert their own names. Still, feel free to imagine yourself in the place of the main character, or if you prefer otherwise, the official face claim for this story is Shen Yujie as Baek Yeonha, meaning "summer river lotus," symbolizing light and peace, that will have great significance later on. For a little canon easter egg, it utilizes the same hanja as the 'ha' (하/夏) in 'Hajoon' which is intentional also. In case it wasn't clear as I hoped for it to be, the bracelet (picture in the synopsis) is extremely meaningful: Bangwool (방울) means "bell," Hayoung's nickname Haetsal (햇살) means "sunshine/sunbeam," hence the yellow crystal that shines like the sun, and the lotus charm is because of Yeonha's namesake. The reason for the butterfly pendant and grooves will be revealed later on hehe. Let me know what you think of it! Until next time! ♡

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | 𝟎𝟐 : 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫

The following themes may be triggering, so please proceed at your own risk: occultism, the supernatural, possession, bullying, blood, gore, self-inflicted harm, violence, vulgarity, and death. Due to the aforementioned cautions, the rating will be set at M for mature.

This book is purely a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, persons, living or dead, is absolutely coincidental. All credit goes to the creators of Netflix's If Wishes Could Kill it's based off of for the canon characters, plotline, and overarching flow of events. I do not own anything aside from the creative license of elements that deviate from the original works including, but not limited to, plot, dialogue, characterization, narrative, and reader-insert.

Understand that this fictional narrative does not condone engaging with the supernatural realm or any form of violence. The portrayal of characters and their actions is purely for dramatic effect and storytelling purposes.

𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑫𝑶 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑨𝑹𝑰𝒁𝑬, 𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬, 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑩𝑼𝑻𝑬, 𝑶𝑹 𝑼𝑷𝑳𝑶𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲 𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑬𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑰𝑴 𝑰𝑻 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑨 𝑫𝑰𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬.

Only for the memories to come flooding back full force.

Each remnant hits you like a tidal wave, currents continuously flowing, bringing with it searing sensations that chill you to the bone, like a person soon to drown at sea, prisoner of a tempest.

Is this the aftermath of death?

Your fingers twitch, desperate for something, anything, to anchor you, at last finding something cold, smooth, and unyielding.

You grasp it tightly, the chill spreading from your fingertips to seep into your warm skin and freezing it cold, sending tendrils of ice up your spine.

Only momentarily do you feel tethered to reality before the unsettling truth and impending dread settles.

You're not floating freely in the void.

You're trapped.

Encapsulated.

A transparent, seamless, glass-like prison holds you captive within.

It is only then that you notice your finger—an oximeter, displaced, a silent casualty of your frantic movements.

Vital signs on the device's face fluctuate as you try to orient yourself, the sole telltale marks of vivacity.

Every breath.

Every heartbeat.

Are you truly living?

Or are you merely alive?

As you struggle to sit up, the world spins for a moment, your vision blurring at the edges. It doesn't take long before you feel it—something pulling, tugging at your limbs. A tangle of thin, white wires encircle your arms and legs, clinging to you like invisible chains.

Cold, sticky pads are pressed against your forehead and scalp, presence so foreign and intrusive that it becomes discomforting. The electrodes, at least a dozen of them, were attached to you with clinical precision, small metal circles connected to the wires, each one sending a faint, electric hum with your every move.

Wasting no more precious seconds, with frantic urgency, you peel the round pads off, slowly at first then gradually yanking at the bothersome adhesives that kept you strung onto something unwanted.

After you rid of the unwelcome objects, you simply sit there, palms pressed against your forehead hoping to keep the pressure behind them at bay, as though the touch can steady your rapidly swirling thoughts.

What was going on?

The discarded wires hang limply by your sides like discarded lifelines.

Before you know it, twin trails of blood come pouring out of your nose, reminding you of the same red from your subconscious, blooming like overgrown flowers blossoming from your midsection, color like ink spreading and spreading, refusing to stop until it dyed everything crimson.

You tilt your head upward, hoping to stop the epistaxis.

Your eyes widen as you meet the faces of your peers, seated all around in the same capsules in two rows facing one another.

The very same classmates who played the life or death game with you, now all unconscious.

But, they remained alive.

You scan every reaction on their faces, but no one seemed at peace.

Grimacing.

Disturbed.

Suffering.

At last, your eyes land on Jun-Hee, situated at the far end of the room diagonal to you.

You overestimate your strength, and upon springing up to head toward him, your legs wobble from the effort.

Despite that, you finally make it to him and try to shake him awake.

"Jun-Hee..."

When he doesn't come to, you raise a trembling hand toward his face, finally being able to touch it as you had so desperately wanted to at the end of the game and at the end of your life.

The warmth of his skin along with his even inhalations calm you, and you release a breath you weren't aware you were holding.

Behind you, there's a soft click, followed by the unmistakable sound of light switches being flicked on, one after another, a quick, mechanical rhythm that echoes through the vicinity. The sound is sharp, intrusive, and it draws your attention like a magnet. You turn your head, and instantly, the harsh glare of fluorescent lights floods your vision, bathing everything in a sterile, unforgiving light. The bulbs buzz feebly, casting long, cold shadows across the room, the contrast of white brightness making everything far too baring.

Your eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar space. The walls are starkly empty and clinical, an unsettling mix of gleaming white surfaces and utilitarian metal fixtures.

Just as quickly, your gaze is pulled toward something far more jarring—a massive screen dominating one of the walls, its callous blue glow washing over the room. The display is impossibly large, covering nearly the entire surface of its partition, and it pulses with activity, each detail playing out like a twisted reflection of reality.

On the screen, a series of small, moving images flash before you of profile pictures, every single portrait you can easily recognize. Below each face, a status marker hovers, blinking in rapid succession.

The setting feels inconceivable, oppressive, and the deeper you look, the more confusing it becomes.

This isn't just a room.

Rather, it's a control center, a place where everything is being monitored, tracked, and calculated.

And you?

You're just another figure in the system, one of many, waiting to be told what happens next.

Some names are highlighted in green, others in red, each one a stark reminder of the stakes. The images flicker with unnerving regularity, updating in real-time, as though the very air around you is alive with a constant flow of information—alive with the sound of decisions being made, lives being counted, and fates being sealed.

It pains you to watch everything that you had experienced.

How many lifetimes had there been between then and now?

The scrolling automatically stops at your own player profile.

The only one marked in green.

The only one deemed complete.

What did it mean?

You close your eyes and shake your head.

You couldn't do this alone.

Pivoting around, you make to head toward Jun-Hee again, but before you can so much as take three steps forward, a deep voice echoes from your back and you still.

"Leave him alone. If you wake him while he's on the server, he could fall into a coma."

Reluctantly, you pivot around again, coming face to face with two vaguely familiar people.

A middle-aged man and woman who bore a resemblance to...

"Do you remember us?"

The woman takes a single step toward you, away from the brilliance of the lights.

Out of the shadows, it finally clicks.

"Mr. Park and Mrs. Kang?" you ask incredulously as the two nod.

"You're...Se-Eun's parents. Why are you here? What is all this?"

Kang Ji-Yoon ignores your questions, opting for, "How was the game?" With hands behind her back, she approaches you, expressionless. When close enough, she brushes your hair out of your face and you eye it warily, the action lacking warmth and sincerity, bordering on condescension. She leans in more, eyes taciturn. "Was death scary and painful enough?"

"W-what are you talking about?" you stutter. "What have you done?" your voice takes on an accusatory tone, feet shuffling backward away from her.

The screen suddenly blinks red, a chart of graphed vitals pulled up in focus.

You glance to the side and see Kyung-Jun, So-Mi and Woo-Ram, the three whose names were highlighted now frowning, matching their deteriorating status on exhibition.

"Don't worry," she dismisses off-handedly, carelessly. "They're just asleep is all."

"Why aren't they awake like I am?"

"They're unconscious for now, but the agony is real."

You stare in disbelief, not knowing how to wrap your mind around the fact that this was human invention, not divine intervention.

"All of this...was only a game?" you barely get the words out, voice nearly inaudible.

Kang Ji-Yoon resumes her walking, circling around you like a predator does to its prey. "You guys haven't been here for long, but you played dozens of times already. Time moves at a different speed within the game. We had it set so Jung-Won would always be the last one standing, but this is the first time you've won. What did you do to Jung-won that she helped you?" The woman is so different from that of which you met countless times before that you could hardly believe it, the contrast in impressions disorienting. "Tell me. I must know, so I can fix it. I only woke you up for this reason alone."

"That's what you're fixated on?" you emphasize, bitterness and hurt clear in your words. "Why on earth are you doing this? Why?!"

"In the world my daughter created, you all must pay the price."

"For what?"

"Have you still not learned your lesson?" Ji-Yoon steps ever closer, mincing her words through clenched teeth. "For bullying my innocent Se-Eun. For believing the groundless rumors and driving her to her death!" she lists with hatred. "That's your crime. Your classmate had died—horrifically! So why didn't anyone take responsibility? All they feared was backlash alone." She laughs without any humor behind it. "You all use the same excuses: It was a joke. It was a misunderstanding. I don't know anything," she mimics, "but is it a joke if it ends in death?"

"Then, is this a joke to you too?" you dare to question. "Our lives are now at your mercy to experiment, and our suffering, playthings for you to relieve your resentment?"

Not expecting you to respond, Mrs. Kang glares at you, lips quivering in suppressed frustration. "Just like you all made mistakes, perhaps we have too. But we're not like you kids who are unable to admit to what you had done. No one. Not a single one of you," she repeats. "Hence, this game was created. The pain that our Se-Eun felt, we knew you had to feel it too. We wanted to show you the consequences of your actions." She raises a hand, patting your head as if you were nothing more than a living doll. "Although I know you and Se-Eun were close, you didn't save her when it mattered!" her voice pitches higher and higher. "Why did you let her die?" She removes her hand in disgust, opting to point an accusatory finger in your face. "You're no different from them. Their memories are wiped each time. They'll never get used to the torment for it feels fresh every playthrough. For eternity, you all can live in this fatal world."

"Mrs. Kang," you get out, still using honorifics, nearing tears. "I also miss Se-Eun so much. Do you think I wouldn't have tried everything I could to stop her if I had understood at the time? Since then, all I've wanted to tell her was that she endured so much on her own—that I'm sorry I didn't know." You swipe at your face as your eyes spill rivulets of water down the curve of your cheeks. "There are things about us we've kept from each other, but can you tell me if there's a friendship where the parties involved bear their heart and soul to one another? Sometimes, there are burdens we can't share—that we don't dare to share." You look up at her, pleading through a haze of tears. "But since we've already reached this point, let me bear that weight then. If someone must take responsibility, I'm willing for it to be me. I'll do anything if you set the others free, please..." you implore.

You swallow down the lump in your throat as the older woman in front of you remains resolute.

Your knees give out before your resolve does and you suddenly find it hard to breathe.

"Don't fight it," comes Mr. Park's voice as he helps you up off the floor, eyes much kinder than his wife's. "Your subconscious is still tied to the game even if your physical body is not."

"I'll fight it to the end," you respond with hardened resolve. You turn to him, pleading, "Sir, Jung-Won told me at the end that death was her way of compensating me. It was something she chose in exchange for forgiveness, so that when we meet again, our friendship could go back to the way it was in the beginning: untainted, trusting, and lasting." Twin tears drop simultaneously from your eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm sorry for not knowing," you apologize in succession. "No matter what has transpired between us, I hope to be her friend in every lifetime." You can slowly feel your strength draining as you sway on your feet. "If virtual Se-Eun, the one that you both created, can forgive me, do you still think it is so impossible for the real Se-Eun to be unable to find it in her to forgive me too?"

Before you can hear a reply, the lull of sleep like a shift in the cosmic fabric that tugs at your very essence, draws you in and under again, the stars that had twinkled behind your eyelids when you first awoke now ceasing to shine, warping like the dying light flickering out in the vast emptiness of space.

𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗜 : 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘 𝗚𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗡

"Don't tell me you're having a change of heart?" Kang Ji-Yoon probes in incredulity, tone scolding. "After everything we've done?!"

Park Joon-Seok guides you back to your chair safely, positioning you properly before turning to look at his wife, sighing at the expression on her face.

"Yoon-Seo and Seol-Hwa having discovered Jung-Won's existence is because she helped by changing the settings to recover their memories."

Ji-Yoon crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side as she eyes him warily. "What are you trying to say?"

Joon-Seok lowers his head, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Self-annihilation was never an option. We didn't plan for it to play out this way. Jung-Won actually took on the persona of our Se-Eun, voluntarily choosing to save the kids of her own accord. That has to mean something—"

"Get a grip!" she cuts him off, clutching at his forearm. "Jung-Won's not our daughter!" Ji-Yoon's fingernails dig into her husband's suit jacket, wrinkling the once creaseless fabric. "It's simply an error caused by faulty coding."

"Honey, look..." Joon-Seok starts to put his hand over hers but she slaps it away, offended.

"There's nothing to discuss further!"

He opts for placing his hands on her shoulders instead, and this time, she doesn't reject the gesture, though her body is still tensed, shoulders square. "It wasn't just an error. I think it's time we came to terms with the facts." He squeezes her shoulders, hoping to bring some sense into her. "It was human will..."

Her head snaps up at him. "Are you seriously being swayed by this girl's words? Because of her friendship with our daughter?!"

"What if—as she said—like Jung-Won, Se-Eun doesn't want this game either? What if getting revenge is only what we want?"

Ji-Yoon shakes her head at Joon-Seok, sorely disappointed. "No," she rejects, turning her head to the side to avoid looking at him any further. "We have a long way to go. We're not done yet. Either you're with me or you're not."

He drops his hands from her shoulders and instead steps closer, trying to gain her attention once more. "Whatever happened in the past, you can't ignore that no matter how many rounds we've tested, they always risked their lives to save a friend." Seeing as she's about to retort, he pushes on, not letting her interrupt. "Maybe not all of them," he acquiesces, "but some of them felt bad for what happened to Se-Eun. We've seen enough to give them a chance. Let's them go, hmm?" Hesitantly, Joon-Seok wraps his arms around her, trying to convince in favor of the morale road.

"I can't do that!" Ji-Yoon shoves him backward, hands pounding at his chest. "Move!" she screeches to no avail. "Move out of the way!" In a final burst of strength, she extracts herself from his embrace. "What about our Se-Eun?" Tears automatically well up at the mention of their beloved daughter. "Whether we keep these kids or let them go, we won't be able to get her back." In a much lower voice, she utters, "Se-Eun is gone forever."

"She's not gone."

"How can you say something so hurtful?" His wife looks at him agonizingly. "Have you forgotten her already?"

"Do you think I can?" Joon-Seok retorts. "But we have to remember that she lives on in our hearts. Always."

"That's just a way to comfort ourselves. When will we stop living in illusions of happiness?" Ji-Yoon gazes up at him, questioning, the fight in her slowly diminishing as she takes in his genuine sorrow.

"We have to learn to let go eventually." Joon-Seok cradles her hands in his tenderly, their shared grief mounting in the space between them. "No one's saying we must right now, and we can choose to be in it forever, but happiness is a decision we make. Why are we keeping ourselves away from choosing it?"

"I don't think we have a choice."

"When will we stop making others live in suffering to lessen our own?" he turns the question back on her.

"It's helped, has it not?" she still stubbornly rebuffs.

"Has it for you?" when he receives no response, he barrels on. "It hasn't for me." He gazes around the room in succession, taking in the young faces. "All this has brought me is only guilt on top of misery." Joon-Seok finally looks back at his wife while speaking, "These kids are other parents' precious children also. What Se-Eun is in our eyes, they are even more in their fathers' and mothers' eyes. Why are we putting them through the turmoil we went through? As parents, we should know better than to wish this feeling upon anyone else."

"And just who will understand us?" Ji-Yoon verbalizes, tears cascading down her face.

"We can understand one another," he answers without hesitation. "I'll always be here for you, and you can always be there for me."

"I can't continue on like this," she says through broken sobs. "You can't convince me that we'll be alright."

"If Se-Eun could, what do you think she would tell us?" Joon-Seok turns Ji-Yoon's shoulders toward the picture of their daughter framed atop the glass table in the middle of the room. "Se-Eun ah," he calls out to empty air. "Is this what you wanted to see?"

Her breath hitches in her throat as the frame falls over with a thud, the answer as clear as day.

"Se-Eun—"

Before she can say more, he raises his hand behind her and hits her at her neck's pressure point and she crumples into his waiting arms.

"I'm sorry it has to come to this, but it isn't what I want to see either. We should stop while we still can." He wraps an arm around her shoulder and leads her toward the exit. "We have to be parents Se-Eun will be proud of. So that one day when we reunite once again, we can stand proudly in front of her with no guilt, no remorse, and no regrets, only meeting her with our dearest smiles."

When you open your eyes again, Se-Eun's parents are nowhere to be seen, the large screen having gone black, no signs of a signal on the once busy display.

Faint sirens wail in the distance, its mournful cry slicing through the air, but it feels miles away, as if muffled by a wall of thick glass. The city's pulse hums in the backdrop, life bustling, indifferent, carrying on.

The glaring lights have since dimmed, their soft glow retreating like the fading afterglow of a sunset, leaving the room cloaked in a quiet, muted darkness. Shadows stretch long across the floor, curling around the edges of every corner, creeping over the slumbering figures of your classmates.

They lie in stillness, bodies relaxed, and faces softened by the calm of sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of their chests is the only movement in the room, a gentle testament to the peace they have found in their dreams.

Instinctively, your attention drifts toward Jun-Hee, drawn by an unspoken pull. The moment your eyes meet his, warmth pervades every nerve in your body.

His dark brown eyes lock onto yours with a deep intensity, the weight of his stare reaching through the space between you, bridging the chasms in your heart formed by the distance of endless partings.

For a heartbeat, everything else in the room blurs, leaving only the connection of your gazes, as if the world itself has paused.

A sudden rush of air fills your lungs but you can't breathe. Your heart skips a beat, and without thinking, you spring from your chair, your legs scraping against its edge in sharp protest, but you push yourself toward him. Each step feels urgent, automatic.

Across the room, you see him move too. His pace is measured, deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours, as if drawn by the same force that has you in motion.

The space between you seems to narrow with every stride, the air around you thick with anticipation. His presence, calm yet unyielding, draws nearer, and with each passing second, the expanse between you both becomes less of a gap and more of an unspoken inevitability.

You have no clue who reaches who first, but it ceases to matter as you throw yourself into his expectant embrace, winding your arms around his neck as he draws you in closer.

Your hearts are beating in sync where your chests are pressed together and you can't help the tears that flow, soundlessly dropping from your eyes, amassing to blend with the blue of his sweater like an oasis of comfort where you can rest forever.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming. Tell me that you're still here with me. Tell me that you're here to stay," you recite in a rush into the juncture of his shoulder, choking over your own words.

"This is real, but even if it wasn't," he squeezes you tighter, pressing his face into the side of yours as he whispers in your ear sentiments from the bottom of his heart, "I'd live through hundreds of illusions if it means I can have even a fraction of your heart in every one of those realities."

𝟭𝟯 : 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥

The tail end words emitted from the loudspeaker reverberate in your ears and echoes in your skull long after the static has faded, but it made no sense—not really.

Truth is, it did.

But even if it did, you can't quite acknowledge it yet.

Acknowledging it would mean admitting defeat.

And in admitting defeat, it would mean it's the end.

It's not the end yet—you won't allow it.

You prop yourself up languidly, heart pounding erratically as though your body understood the danger before your mind could, yet to process it.

How come you, Yoon-Seo, and Jun-Hee remained unscathed?

Despite the contextually favorable circumstances, it only serves to worsen your outlook.

It is merely one prolonged suffering after another.

Your heart aches as you recall the last words you had said to Dong-Hyun and Hyun-Ho in anger.

"I never want to see you again."

Out of every single wish you made since you got here, why did it have to be the only one granted?

Tears slip silently down your cheeks, warm and relentless, landing in soft, wet splatters onto the dark wood flooring. Your fingers clutch at the hem of your skirt so tightly that your knuckles have since paled, the coarse fabric crumpling beneath your trembling hands.

Before you can even properly mourn, Yoon-Seo staggers to her feet, dazed and distant, leaving the little space the two of you were tucked away in, deeply hidden from sight.

"Yoon-Seo!" you call out as you chase after her in haste.

You stop short just before reaching her, seeing her Jung-Won's familiar silhouette ascend the stairs from the opposite end of the hall.

Yoon-Seo's legs shake as she tries to hold herself upright, one hand clutching at the banister, like she couldn't trust in her own strength to not give way.

Placing an arm out before Yoon-Seo, you step in front of her protectively and confront Jung-Won, whose expression looks distressed, resolute, and tinged with deep-seated guilt.

No matter how she appeared, you would never be able to erase everything that transpired with simply a shift in emotions.

After all, human feelings are fickle and transient, always prone to change.

This, you now knew all too well.

"Jung-Won," you begin wearily, not looking at her but to the side of her. "If you were going to go this far, you should've taken us out of it as well. For the game to end in the way you guys want...we should all perish. Keeping us alive—saving us—it doesn't make it better. It doesn't mean a single thing if we're only surviving, not living."

Jung-Won brushes a hand through her hair, dejected.

"There's not enough time to talk about this. Not here, not now."

Your features scrunch in antipathy, eyes fluttering in disbelief.

"When has there ever been enough time to talk? We haven't told each other anything, and especially not everything. By the time we will, it'll already be over."

"It can only be over if I go deal with Da-Bum. This—" Jung-Won gestures around, "—has to wait even if it can't."

Before you can say more, Jun-Hee comes running up to meet you all, footfalls thundering with stifled resentment.

"We can't afford to continue waiting on you—waiting on your sorry pretexts and repeated excuses! You owe us an explanation for having trusted you all this while!"

Ignoring his admonishment, Jung-Won turns her back on you three.

"I'll explain later—if I can." She turns to go before stopping after a few steps, adding as an afterthought, "Please be careful. Da-Bum won't let anyone live except for himself."

[ ᴏʜ ᴊᴜɴɢ-ᴡᴏɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ.]

"Why do you think Jung-Won kept us alive?" Yoon-Seo asks belatedly, long after Jung-Won had already disappeared around the bend.

Jun-Hee breathes out angrily. "Forget it. Don't think about it anymore. We can't trust either of them anyway. Let's vote for Da-Bum and predict what he will do next."

You turn to him.

"What do you mean?"

"If we vote for Da-Bum too, he won't stay still. He'll do whatever he can since there's nothing for him to lose now. Even if he dies, Jung-Won will still be here. Things will work against us at night so we must sort it out before then. No matter if we're the majority, he won't be executed until it's nighttime."

"In the circumstance that we can't hold out until then, what of it?"

"If we sense that we can't make it, in order to corner Da-Bum, our last resort would have to be killing Jung-Won..."

"Jun-Hee..."

To end the life of someone you once thought of as a dear friend and someone you trusted so much isn't something you could imagine doing.

Not even when things have reached this breaking point.

"Only if it comes down to it," he corrects, seeing the distraught look on your face.

"I hope it won't—for all of our sakes."

"I'll go to the warehouse. Something might happen soon."

"Let me come with," Yoon-Seo is quick to jump in.

"No," Jun-Hee refuses adamantly. "You both need to hide."

"Why? I want to tag along too.”

"Just listen to me!" Jun-Hee shouts, finally putting some sense into Yoon-Seo's relentless insistence. "The Mafias are roaming freely and we have no clue of their whereabouts while they know ours."

You reach for his hand in both of yours and he turns to look at you, not wanting to leave.

"I know I can't stop you, but please, stay safe."

He puts his free hand around yours, thumb running over the back of your hand.

"As long as you can promise me the same."

After a short while, he pulls away and your hand remains suspended, holding onto nothing, watching his retreating back.

You hope this isn't the last you'll see of each other.

You and Yoon-Seo had dolefully made your way back to the room your trio had picked out the first night here.

How long ago that was.

Everything in this now locked room still remained the same.

Everything outside it though, can never be the same again.

You gingerly sit on the edge of your bed, staring inanely at the vacant coffee table in the middle of the room, reminiscing how mirth and excitement had filled every inch and corner of the space, conversations endless for you, Jung-Won, and Yoon-Seo.

Now only a forked path remains between you all, each leading away from the other with diverging trails of red footprints, the shrill sound of cries and desolation overwhelmingly drowning out peals of laughter and happiness once shared.

Yoon-Seo runs her hand over every crook and angle of the walls lost in her own thoughts before stopping in front of Jung-Won's unlocked laptop.

All of a sudden, she proceeds to throw her backpack carelessly on the floor, digging through it intensely.

"Yoon-Seo...?"

"There must be something we're missing."

Your stomach churns at the thought of sitting here while Jun-Hee was still outside on his own.

As Yoon-Seo's back is turned to you, focused on her task, you rise soundlessly and cast a single last glance over your shoulder before heading for the door.

Your hand pauses upon reaching the doorknob before you inhale, exhale, and make up your mind.

Fingers snaking around the cold, rounded metal, you twist it ajar and step out, turning around once more to glimpse through the small opening space that still remained.

"Yoon-Seo, I'm sorry," you say softly, locking the door from the inside before shutting it closed, hoping it will take a while before she notices your absence.

You make way toward the direction of the rooftop, the emergency staircase leading up to it soon in view.

Just as you round the corner, a knife is pressed to the column of your throat.

“Take my life if you want to so badly," you grit out between clenched teeth as Da-Bum forces you to the edge of the rooftop, blade still close to your carotid artery.

He chuckles darkly, pushing the weapon closer, eyes maddened.

"I could, but where's the fun in that?" He runs the back of his hand down the side of your face mockingly. "Using you as bait for a hostage situation is more appealing."

You twist your face away but he only smirks, taking his knife back and flipping it around, fingertips playing with its pointed edge.

"Why would you do this?" you get out, seething in anger. "Is this how you repay our kindness to you all these years?"

"Kindness?" He spins around and laughs, head thrown back with his mouth wide open toward the sky before rounding on you, stepping closer menacingly. "Kindness doesn't get you anywhere. All that's at the end of it is betrayal."

"You wouldn't know."

"I know better than anyone!" he shouts in your face. "All these years, I've held it in. I told myself it would get better, that it has to. But you know what? It never did, and it never will! Not until those who hurt me die!"

"That makes you no different from those you detest so much, you sick bastard!"

At the comparison, his eyes narrow in ire and he steps even closer to you, answering under his breath, "At least I have reasons to justify the way I act."

"If you have to defend that your own actions are moral, then it's already immoral."

"Don't act all holier than thou, Han Seol-Hwa."

"I would never stoop to your level, you murderer!" you screech.

The next thing you know, his hand comes up to tighten around your neck, nearly crushing your windpipe.

Even as you can barely breathe, your eyes fix on his with pure hatred.

"You should thank me." His smile stretches into a Cheshire grin. "Last night, you said you never wanted to see your cousin and friend again so I did you a favor."

Tears come to your eyes at the mention of your loved ones, the rims of your pupils burning.

"Fuck you," you barely manage to utter, the words cut off in between as you spit at him.

He swipes at his face lazily as though he expected the retaliation, proceeding to tighten his hold, fingers digging into your flesh as they compress. You're forced to claw at his grasp on reflex, feeling your lung reserve dwindling.

"It wasn't so hard to catch them off-guard before they could lock themselves away in the storage room right here. No one could ever suspect the pitiful Jin Da-Bum, can they?"

Da-Bum pivots your head harshly toward a corner of the rooftop and you see the knob knocked off.

"You belong in hell."

"I can show you their bodies before I descend if you would like," he taunts, laughing maniacally. "Maybe I'll meet our dear Go Kyung-Jun, giver of keys, down there too and tell him about what I did to you." He runs the blunt side of the blade down the side of your face this time. "As for now, I'll send Jun-Hee your corpse when he arrives."

Suddenly, the door to the rooftop swings backward on its hinges, hitting the railing with a deafening thud and you see Jung-Won, Yoon-Seo, and Jun-Hee, an array of mixed emotions on their expressions.

At a disadvantage, Da-Bum removes his hand from your neck and instead wraps an arm around your shoulders from behind, dragging you ever nearer to the end of the roof, blade now pressed with intent instead of mere threat against your throat.

"Release Seol-Hwa!" Jun-Hee calls, taking strides forward, eyes betraying how strong he's trying to remain.

"You guys are all pathetic. Don't approach me or I'll throw her over the ledge.”

"Are you this content to became exactly like those you loathed? You don't have to take it this far!" Yoon-Seo states.

"You sure do share that sentiment," Da-Bum scoffs, ignoring her to glare at Jung-Won.

"How do you feel about seeing me again? You're glad, aren't you?"

"If I had a choice, I'd rather not see you ever again," Jung-Won attacks with her words. "It's me who you want after all. Let go of her!"

"I have no grudge against Seol-Hwa, but since I have no way through you, I'll be content to take a replacement."

You clinch your teeth as he drags you backward still, barely a feet away from the long drop.

Jung-Won inches closer, eyes locked in a standstill with Da-Bum. "So, what do you want? What's the condition for freeing Seol-Hwa?"

"Nothing much," Da-Bum answers lightly, like the whole situation didn't amount to anything. "Just to accomplish what I couldn't yesterday."

Everyone present can easily understand his words.

"Are you asking me to jump?"

"What else?" He points the knife in her direction. "If I can't kill you, you should kill yourself."

"No! No one's dying! I won't allow it!" Yoon-Seo yells, stricken.

"You shut your mouth! Who are you to decide, huh?!"

"Enough is enough, you piece of trash," Jun-Hee curses. "Do whatever you want with me, but free Seol-Hwa!"

"Oh, how sweet of you, Class President," Da-Bum coos mockingly. "Though I have to decline that offer. It's better for you to stay out of this. All you have to do is stand and watch."

"Hold on!" Da-Bum's head turns to the voice. "What happens after I die?" Jung-Won continues to ask questions, prolonging imminent doom for you and her. "Are you going to release her?"

"That depends on what you choose."

Jung-Won cracks a smile but it's anything but sincere, lips quivering at the corners. "You won't keep her alive regardless of what I do, will you?"

"Are you refusing then? It's her or you. Pick."

You flinch as he presses the tip of the blade inward, and as you feel it cut through the superficial layer, a drop of blooding running down your skin, you squeeze your eyes shut, wondering if with every word, he would cut deeper until the blade couldn't go any further.

You can hear Jun-Hee and Yoon-Seo gasp in panic, jumbled words of protest.

"That's not what I'm talking about!" comes Jung-Won's desperate speech. "I'll do anything you ask in exchange for Seol-Hwa's life, but you and I both know it's against the rules."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Mafias can't commit suicide. We can't take our own lives, nor can we end one another's."

"What do you mean we can't? Ju-Won did."

"You're mistaken. He was executed because he violated the rules. That was a different situation entirely."

As Jung-Won attempts to distract Da-Bum with her words of persuasion, Jun-Hee seizes the chance to get to you, little by little.

"Damn it! I told you not to move, do you hear me?!"

"If I'm to die right here, right now, it'll be because you threatened me. By proxy, the killer is none other than you," Jung-Won intimidates Da-Bum with the possible wrath of the game.

"Be quiet!"

"Don't you remember the warning in the freezer yesterday? Do you want to die with me? The only way I'll go out is if I'm taking you down with."

At this, you open your eyes, trying to convey that it's a lost cause.

"Jung-Won, no..." you whisper out.

"Don't stop her when your life is at stake too," he blasphemes into your ear before fixing her with an icy glower. "Oh Jung-Won, just jump!"

Seeing him hesitate as Jung-Won walks up, you take the opportunity of his momentary loosened hold to bite his forearm. It's hard enough to leave an indentation of your teeth as blood trickles out, and you resolutely kick your feet rearward where it hurts most.

"You fucking bitch!" Da-Bum screeches as he kneels on the floor, doubled over in the radiating lower-half pain, one hand clutching at his injured arm.

You dash toward your friends and Jun-Hee pushes you behind him, temporarily safe and out of the way, before throwing his entire weight against Da-Bum, repeatedly punching his face in.

Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo do their best to get the duct tape off from around your wrists as the two boys scuffle in the background.

"Are you okay?" Jung-Won questions frenziedly, giving you a hurried once-over.

"I'm fine," you reply, swiftly getting back to your feet, urging, "We have to help Jun-Hee."

Before you can think of what to do, there's a thwack heard in the distance as Da-Bum grunts, and you pivot around, eyes widening in helplessness as you see Jun-Hee splayed out on the ground in a heap, a bloody rock chucked by his side and forehead with a trail of blood spilling out.

You freeze in utter shock as Yoon-Seo rushes over first, trying to wake up Jun-Hee, her back turned.

Nearby, Da-Bum continues to swipe around on the ground for his knife, but the moment he does, he stands over the two as he raises his arm overhead, stance rigid and posture tensed.

Without a second thought, you propel yourself forward, surging on pure adrenaline and the desire to protect your friends, spinning around barely in time just as Da-Bum charges, taking the knife straight through your stomach.

You grapple at the handle, the pain starting to surmount. Da-Bum momentarily blinks at you in absolute incredulity, not having expected the turn of events or selfless sacrifice for another.

There's a dim showing of remorse as he looks at you but it's gone as quickly as it appeared and he retracts the weapon forcefully, causing you to keel, collapsing onto your knees as patches of blood saturate the thin fabric of your white button up, blooms of red watercolor flowers ornamenting your midsection.

"Seol-Hwa!" Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo bellow in unison as the latter cries, holding you in her arms with Jun-Hee at her side, still out cold.

"Why did you shield me?" Yoon-Seo asks through tears, each word hiccupping as she clasps your hands in hers.

"The first night we came here," you splutter out between uneven gasps of breath, your body aching more as you speak, "you told me you'd be my superwoman the next time I needed saving. I can't let you do that. Not at the expense of your own life."

"It's not worth it," Yoon-Seo mumbles out between sobs, putting her hand over your own still pressed against the gaping wound in your abdomen, trying to put pressure on it. "I can't repay this."

In your peripheral vision, Jun-Hee finally comes to, the first sight of his being you on the brink of death.

With an anguished scream, he sprints at the offender, landing a kick square to Da-Bum's chest and forcing him onto his back, gaining the advantage. As they fight to the bitter end, you can barely make visible the results, their forms covered by a patch of sun-burnt blades of sward.

Only when the next strong gust of wind comes to blow the grass strands away do you realize Da-Bum had lost out to Jun-Hee's resentment-filled strength, the knife now implanted in his very own chest, the consequences of what he had done to others ultimately falling back on him.

[ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ]

Jung-Won falls to her knees beside you, tears springing from her eyes as she tries to help, yet not quite knowing how.

"You have to stay awake! Don't close your eyes!"

"None of you are hurt, right?"

Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo each take a hold of your hands, shaking their heads in tandem.

"How can you ask us that when you're like this?" Jung-Won inquires, voice cracking.

Jun-Hee's legs give out as he crawls toward you, and Yoon-Seo transfers you into his waiting arms, putting you in a half-seated position, head supported against his chest.

He looks more hurt than you feel, and seeing him in that state, a thousand stab wounds would be far less excruciating.

"Is this the end?"

"Don't speak," Jung-Won demands. "I was going to resolve it. Why did you have to forgo yourself?"

Yoon-Seo turns to her, eyes falling onto their matching bracelets. In a wretched voice, she verbalizes, "I think I know who you are now...Se-Eun ah. We missed you, and I know you miss us too. However, this has to end now. What may seem like a game to you has been life or death for us."

"I had no choice."

As your heavy eyelids flutter, wanting so badly to shut completely in a long rest, it distorts the image of Jung-Won until you can only see Se-Eun.

"Seol-Hwa! Han Seol-Hwa! Stay with us! I'll get you out of here!"

At her voice, you painstakingly force yourself to blink, only seeing her as Jung-Won once again.

"Jung-Won ah, I forgive you."

"I'm sorry. I've failed you, your trust, but most importantly, our friendship."

"You can make it up to me when we see each other again."

You squeeze her hand, but your grip is weak, your fingers trembling notwithstanding placing your entire strength into the movement.

"I don't think anything will be enough to compensate...except for this."

She squeezes your hand back before pulling her own away, bracelet falling to the floor as she runs over to the edge of the roof before anyone can have even the slightest chance to stop her.

With one last look and a final smile directed at you all, she launches herself backwards off the roof, never to be seen again.

Yoon-Seo scurries to peer over the ledge, the visual causing her to crumple as she plops to the floor, fingers still gripping the ledge, refusing to let go.

You look up at Jun-Hee as you sense yourself fading, his tears falling down onto your face.

"Jun-Hee, you'll make it back home."

"It won't be home without you...”

You try to smile at him but it falters as you see him barely able to speak.

His tears slip down his cheeks in steady streams, each one a small, silent raindrop that traces the curve of his face before splashing softly onto your own.

Endless drops continue to fall, slow and relentless, the warmth of them contrasting with your frigid skin.

It resonates like the memory of your first meeting, and now, it will forever be reminiscent of your last parting.

"Nothing has made me happier than being able to be with you, no matter how short our time together was. If there's a next life, I hope we'll cross paths again and that the wait will be short, but the meeting will be long."

"No, no, please," Jun-Hee chants between his tears. "I couldn't keep my promise to you. Don't leave me, please. Not yet—not in this way."

He grabs at one of your hands, gripping it like a lifeline.

"Life is short and we're bound to have regrets—mine is that I didn't meet you sooner."

"I can't live without you, Seol-Hwa."

You grin sadly at him as you attempt to raise your hand to his face.

"Just who will be the one to miss the other more this time?"

Even with all of your strength, it's not enough for your fingertips to touch his visage one last time, the edges of your vision gradually dimming.

Your hand falls just as Jun-Hee reaches out, wanting to place it against his face, but his fingers are left suspended in midair, your hands barely enough to touch, though no longer enough to hold onto.

A last tear glistening with the freedom of escape, but also with the weight of inadequate borrowed time, spills forth from the end corner of your eye. It trails down the side of your cheek before vanishing into the vast emptiness around you.

As you fall, so does it, slipping into an opaque haze that blurs the world around you in its reflection, leaving in its wake nothing but the cold, consuming silence of oblivion.

[ ᴏʜ ᴊᴜɴɢ-ᴡᴏɴ ʜᴀs ᴅɪᴇᴅ. ᴏʜ ᴊᴜɴɢ-ᴡᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ]

Congratulations! The Mafia Game has ended, and the Citizens have won!

But at what cost?

𝟭𝟮 : 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗧 | 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗

Mi-Na's finger was still frozen in midair pointed accusingly at Yeon-Woo while Yoon-Seo's icy glare stayed locked on Da-Bum, her hand just as steady, unwavering.

Paranoia coiled in the corners of the room like smoke, invisible but suffocating, blurring the lines between friend and foe.

Everyone is at a standstill as the simultaneous accusations of the suspects linger in the gradually narrowing space.

"Jin Da-Bum," Mina undertones. "Care to rationalize as to why you chose to venture off on your own?"

You haven't looked away from him since, not caring in the least whether Yeon-Woo was suspicious or not.

When it's as clear as this, how could you think otherwise?

"I—I just wanted to see if anyone tampered with it," Da-Bum stammers, offering a lame excuse in haste.

"Bullshit," Jun-Hee calls. "The only one who had that intention was you."

Da-Bum raises his hands in surrender, shaking them profusely. "I'm not the Mafia! How many times do I have to say it?"

"Stop lying, you jerk!" Yeon-Woo grits out, still in obvious pain that's now mixed with utter frustration. "That's been the weighted excuse of every single Mafia member so far. Just because you say you're not, doesn't mean you aren't!"

"Come on, I'm not the type of person who would do something like this! You know me!"

"Clearly not well enough!" You chuck the camcorder in his direction and it whacks him in the shin, bouncing with a harsh thud onto the floor thereafter. He flinches but doesn't dare retaliate for fear of further suspicion.

"You made us buy into your nice guy act all this while when we genuinely cared and wanted to protect you," Yoon-Seo spits out furiously. "If you act the same toward us the way those bullies did to you, how does that make you any different? After having suffered yourself, do you wish for others to go through it too? Is it fun for you?"

She's noticeably shaking in anger beside you, fists clenched at her sides.

It wasn't easy to get on someone's bad side, someone who could see good in basically everyone, but Da-Bum had managed it perfectly.

"Of course not!" Da-Bum defends. "How could you think that lowly of me?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to think when three people caught you in the act?" Yeon-Woo barely manages to get out before he clutches at his abdomen, the action of which doesn't go unnoticed by Da-Bum.

"Then, what can you say for the rest who saw you? When and how did you get hurt?"

You bite hard on your lip as the attention is suddenly diverted onto Yeon-Woo.

"I have no clue! When I woke up, I found myself in this state."

Da-Bum has the nerve to chuckle. "Is that even believable to your own ears, Mr. Mafia?"

Yeon-Woo pulls out his phone, the device wobbling in his weak grip, palm sweating from irritation and discomfort. "You know what? To hell with this. Fuck you, fuck this, fuck everything!"

[ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ. ]

"Two can play that game."

[ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ. ]

"So what? Don't act innocent when you're not." Turning to the group now, Yeon-Woo settles for, "I bet both Mi-Na and Da-Bum are behind this. So-Mi, Ji-Soo, Woo-Ram, Joo-Young, Kyung-Jun, and almost Na-Hee and Yu-Jun. They're all connected to those two in one way or another."

"Have you lost your damn mind?!" Mi-Na screeches. "How am I a part of this?"

"Why wouldn't you be since you're clearly the Mafia! Everyone may have overlooked the luminous paint on your shoes and socks, but don't think I forgot about it in the slightest!"

"You're so quick to point fingers, aren't you?" Mi-Na jabs him in the chest with her forefinger, forcing him back. "Explain your wound then, you pig!"

"Shut your mouth, you Mafia bitch!"

"I'll show you how much of a bitch I can be!"

Mi-Na punches him deep in the stomach right where it was still bleeding and Yeon-Woo doubles over groaning, not having expected the sudden attack long enough to shield himself.

[ ᴄʜᴏɪ ᴍɪ-ɴᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ. ]

"That's enough!" Yu-Jun is quick to drag Mi-Na away before she can dig her nails into the cut flesh, lost in the lure of revenge.

She points to everyone in succession, eyes wide. "Vote now! It's him!"

Presented with a chance to slip away, Da-Bum rides on Mi-Na's coattails. "You all should do as Mi-Na and I did! I'm certain!"

"Will you can it already?" Yoon-Seo steps toward him, eyes blazing with ire. "Nothing you say will convince me. We agreed to wait, so why were you the only one who jumped the gun?"

"You said no one was there. I was just worried! The Mafia could've gone there and tampered with it. They had previously deleted existing camera footage too. There was no guarantee they wouldn't do the same again."

Yoon-Seo laughs incredulously, shoving him rearward. "If that's what you thought, all the more reason you shouldn't have gone there alone! In hindsight, if you're as innocent as you claim to be, then you should have told me before—not after the act—to rid of possible suspicion."

"You didn't go there simply to confirm whether it was charged or not, you went there with the purpose to rid of evidence, worried about your identity having been revealed if you were caught on camera!" Jun-Hee states, conviction in his voice.

"That's not true! I didn't delete anything. I simply took a look at it. You can't call me a Mafia for that."

Jun-Hee grabs him by the collar of his shirt, the fabric bunching. "You were the only one out of all of us who tried to find the camera. There's no reason to so much as peek at it if you're not guilty, you sick bastard!"

[ ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ. ]

[ ʟᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴏɴ-sᴇᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ. ]

[ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴊɪɴ ᴅᴀ-ʙᴜᴍ. ]

"Just what are the three of you doing? For all we know, you're close enough to pin this on me together!"

"I would trust them over you any day, you fucker!" Yeon-Woo curses before turning to Eun-Chan and grabbing his friend by the upper arm. "He goes first tonight, and tomorrow, the she-Devil can be next. We'll be done with this game then."

Your eyebrows knit together as you hear Jung-Won speak up, not leaving room for Eun-Chan to respond.

"There's something I want to ask though, Yeon-Woo. You said you woke up with a wound you didn't know how you got. If you're blameless, why did you hide it? You even hid it from Eun-Chan, who is obviously, someone you trust the most."

"Why do you think?" Yeon-Woo pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. "If I told you, you would have made me take the fall for it."

"Jung-Won..." Yoon-Seo murmurs, in incredulity, her friend not siding with her hitting like a bolt from the blue.

You close your eyes tight, your conversation with Jung-Won from the previous day replaying over and over like a broken record—a broken friendship.

So it was always going to come to this.

"Regardless, you should've still been honest with us..." Eun-Chan adds exasperatedly. "Now everything's more complicated than it already is."

Yeon-Woo whips his head in his best friend's direction, in dejection. "Not you too..."

Jung-Won steps toward Yeon-Woo with iron-clad resolve. "None of us knew that the Mafia was injured in the morning. It's odd that you would rather bury this situation then let it see the light of day. Don't you know that hiding only leads to greater misgivings?"

At a loss for words, Yeon-Woo remains silent, but you speak up for him.

"You can't possibly tell me that if Yeon-Woo told us, you would take it to mean he's cleared?" You throw your hands up in the air, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. "Whether he said anything or not, we still would've ended up here. You're not looking for someone to tell the truth. You're just looking to turn them into lies. Look where we are now!"

Jung-Won turns her head to the side, not looking directly at you, but you can sense the distaste coming off her in waves.

"Jung-Won is right though," Da-Bum interjects. "He probably couldn't tell us because he was the Mafia and he knew he'd look culpable."

"I've never seen you run your mouth this much to defend anyone, Da-Bum," you counter lowly. "Not even yourself."

A silence settles over the room as Jung-Won doesn't look at Da-Bum and neither does he look at her.

"I bet both those bastards are Mafias trying to throw the other under the bus for their own survival," Mi-Na scoffs. "Forget the show they're putting on, just vote for one of them!"

Before anyone else can insert their unsolicited opinions, Yeon-Woo charges at Da-Bum and heaves him to the floor, the two tussling.

It isn't until the following vote do they pause.

[ ᴏʜ ᴊᴜɴɢ-ᴡᴏɴ ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ. ]

"You killed Na-Hee, didn't you?" Jung-Won contends.

"Now where does this additional allegation stem from?!"

"Oh Jung-Won!" Yoon-Seo grabs at her friend's phone sensing the coming course of action, but it's not nearly quick enough to stop the inevitable.

"I'm positive it's Yeon-Woo this time. Look at the lesion on his body. He can't even explain it to us."

"You'll all regret this!"

In a burst of rage, Yeon-Woo lifts a chair overhead, wanting to bash it against Jung-Won's head with all desire to injure his accuser.

As he surges toward her, Eun-Chan barely holds him back in time, shoes squeaking with every streak of his soles, skidding the once pristine linoleum floor with black lines.

"Let it go! You're not helping your own case!"

Just when you think it's over, Yeon-Woo spins and kicks Eun-Chan to the floor, the latter falling in a heap in utter shock.

"Get it together! Why won't you vote Da-Bum out? Why are you hesitating? Why are you so nonchalant about the fact that I'll be executed wrongly?"

"It's not like that!" Eun-Chan denies. "You haven't given us any clarity at all."

"How much more transparent can I be?" Yeon-Woo places his hands on his hips and hangs his head low, cursing under his breath before inhaling and looking up sharply. "How about this? You and I were together last night. How come only I got stabbed? Tell me, was it you?"

"What...?"

"Is that why you alerted the others about me occupying the infirmary?"

Eun-Chan gets to his feet abruptly and Dong-Hyun and Hyun-Ho get in between the two boys, forestalling another oncoming clash.

"Cut it out!"

"Aish. Why won't you try to find who did this to me instead of driving me into a corner? This wound hurts like hell, but even more so is your false perception of me."

Eun-Chan takes a few steps back, all the way to where you were standing, as far away from his friend as possible.

[ ɪᴍ ᴇᴜɴ-ᴄʜᴀɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ. ]

You and Jung-Won meet eyes across the room and you can see the parallel between you both like that of Eun-Chan and Yeon-Woo.

You think you know someone until you find out you never did at all.

[ ᴄʜᴀ ʏᴜ-ᴊᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴊɪɴ-ᴅᴀ ʙᴜᴍ. ]

"Why did you keep silent? You trusted yourself more than me—than us together—to keep the secret. Or maybe, you couldn't because you were the Mafia. Maybe, the word trust never existed to you in the first place."

"Yah...I expected this from the others. But how could you? How could you vote me out? You! Out of everyone!"

"It isn't like that!"

"It's exactly like that!" Yeon-Woo says shakily, clearly betrayed. "Now I know how little our friendship amounted to you..."

[ ᴊᴀɴɢ ʜʏᴜɴ-ʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ. ]

[ ᴋɪᴍ ᴅᴏɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ. ]

You can physically feel the pain of your heart dropping to the bottom recesses of your ribcage, the unexpected successive announcements ricocheting like bullets through your chest.

Lost, you grab at their arms, trying to shake some sense into them.

"What are you doing? Huh? Tell me!"

Hyun-Ho puts his hand over yours but you yank it back, hurt. "I'm sorry, Seol-Hwa. I can't agree with you this time."

"Sorry won't cut it," you answer, tears of frustration collecting, but you refuse to let them fall. "Is this as far as you both can trust me? After everything we've gone through together?"

"All these years, I've lost count of how many times Dong-Hyun and I had to save Da-Bum, in circumstances no one should ever have to witness, much less experience. To imagine him doing something of this caliber...I can't. We can't."

"Have you..." you pause, shaking your head as a stubborn tear trickles down. You swipe it away indignantly. "Have you ever considered that masks can be deceiving and that the vilest person is someone who fools others by hiding their evil in the good and kind? Villains are made, never born."

"We have no way of proving that..." Dong-Hyun says quietly.

It draws a bitter laugh out of you. "You can just say my words aren't enough."

"That's not what I meant—"

"You meant it enough to say it." You look down, chin quivering. "It looks like we won't make it to the end together as we promised. From now on, we don't owe each other anything anymore."

"Seol-Hwa—"

"I'm disappointed in you," you whisper out, the fight leaving your body. "Na-Hee would be too."

Hyun-Ho reaches out again but you step away, evading him.

Just as you swivel around, Da-Bum smirks victoriously at you, eyes narrowing, though unable to hide the glimmer in them as he takes in your hopeless expression. As you glower at him, he idly straightens his shirt, not a care in the world.

In the background, Yeon-Woo runs off, forlornly accepting his sealed fate, Eun-Chan shuffling after the shadows of his friend's footsteps, remorse rising far too little, far too late.

"The rest of you can stand here and mull it over, but I'm going to hide, with or without you." Not waiting on a response, Mi-Na turns on her feet and leaves, the others filing out heartlessly.

Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun try to approach you but you put your hands up, guarded, not looking at them.

"Just leave. I don't want to see you again."

Conflicted, the two glance at each other, exchanging silent words before reluctantly exiting, throwing glances over their shoulders at you until they disappear from view.

Da-Bum is the last to saunter out, to the screams of Jun-Hee in the backdrop.

"We should get going too. There's not much time left," Jung-Won says casually, callously.

Beside you, Yoon-Seo kneels to pick up the bloody shirt and towels Mi-Na tossed on the floor at the beginning of the night, inspecting it with a faraway glance.

You leave her be.

"It's that jerk, Jin Da-Bum. I saw him sneer earlier when the votes overturned in his favor," Jun-Hee laments as he angrily kicks at a chair.

"Everyone finished voting. There's nothing we can do now except save ourselves." Jung-Won crosses her arms over her chest, wanting to end the conversation.

You can't bother with her, heart hanging heavy in your chest.

"I'll get going first then," Jun-Hee starts. "You all should hide."

You reach out for his hand, to which he holds tenderly in his own, lacing your fingers together.

"You're not coming with?”

He smiles softly at you, patting the top of your head fondly. "It's more dangerous if we stay together. Let's go separately just for today. We'll see each other in the morning."

You look up at his dark eyes, gazing down at you affectionately.

"Will we?" you question, more to yourself than him, but he catches it anyhow.

His smile wanes faintly and you don't miss the change in microexpression, but he keeps the grin on his face for your sake, stepping forward and placing a kiss to your forehead, lingering.

"We will," he assures. "I'll always be waiting for you."

You hold onto his hand for as long as you can before you let him go, watching him walk away from you, once again.

It doesn't take long for him to disappear out the doors, but you count his steps, down to the very last echoes.

"We don't have much time left," Jung-Won repeats again, monotonously, bordering on anxious.

"Jung-Won," Yoon-Seo leads, words uneven. "How...did you know Na-Hee hid up in the space in the bathroom when you and I went to look for clues earlier on?" She sidles toward you and pulls you over to her by the wrist, fingers clamping onto your forearm, touch cold. "I don't remember Seol-Hwa or Jun-Hee telling us that."

"That's because we didn't..." you reply softly.

"Anyone can put two and two together. That was the only place someone could've hidden."

"There...How can anyone guess she would be best concealed there?"

"Wanting to stay alive calls for desperate measures."

"Are you talking about her...or yourself?" Yoon-Seo breathes out heavily. "Yeon-Woo's wound...did you do that? Na-Hee too?" She fumbles over her next questions in haste. "The security footage?! Did you kill our classmates?" Receiving no immediate response, her questions barrage on. "Why...won't you say anything? You didn't, right? Tell me you didn't! I'll believe you if you do. Tell me you didn't! Please tell me it wasn't you!"

Yoon-Seo falls to the ground in sheer anguish from the realization, and you kneel beside her, just as much guilt-ridden for hiding your suspicions.

Seeing her like this hurt.

You wanted to at least save her from the revelation to the end.

Jung-Won glances over at you, eyes shaking as she can't believe you never told anyone, true to your word.

You're none the wiser as you look at Yoon-Seo in concern, her cries filling the void of the room.

"I can't tell you that."

"Why?! Why is it you?!" Yoon-Seo chants over and over, nearly crawling over to grab at Jung-Won's legs, begging.

"Why can't it be me?" Jung-Won replies coldly. "If you figured it out, you should run away while you still can."

At those words, Yoon-Seo faints, and you catch her in your arms, tapping to awaken her to no avail.

[ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ᴏᴠᴇʀ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs, ɴᴀᴍ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

The tears cascading down your face drop onto the fabrics still in Yoon-Seo's tight grip, diluting the red drops.

You wonder how many tears it would take to fill an ocean deep enough to wash it anew.

A clean slate.

A fresh start.

A purified existence.

"Is this what you wanted to see—how your betrayal would leave your friends an empty shell of the person they used to be?" you mourn emptily to the air. "If it is, you've more than succeeded, Jung-Won."

"Seol-Hwa—"

"I wanted to spare at least her." You look up at her bitterly, the tears obscuring your vision as you hold Yoon-Seo tighter against yourself. "She trusted you more than she trusted herself."

"I—"

"Please. I don't want to see this to the end if it's the end I've hoped against all along. I'm tired of wishful thinking, of dreaming for things that won't come true. If I could, I'd sacrifice myself for everyone to get the chance to go home. Can we go back to the start where we were still friends, Jung-Won?"

Maybe it's your brain hitting you where it hurts most, but through your clouded vision progressively diminishing to black, it almost appears as though Jung-Won reaches out to you.

Maybe it's just wishful thinking—another one of your hopeful dreams never to come true.

𝟭𝟭 : 𝗔 𝗙𝗢𝗢𝗟’𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗢𝗟 | 𝟭𝟯 : 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥

Guilty conscience pricked by the concealed ridicule, Mi-Na reaches out in desperate want to backtrack but is only met with clear dismissal.

"Na-Hee, I really am sorry. You can choose whether to believe me, but I was fooled by So-Mi too. I'm not part of the Mafia team."

"No, you're not sorry," comes Na-Hee's unyielding response. "You're only sorry you got caught."

"I'm trying to make amends and promise to compensate you. It may not seem like it, but I trusted you this whole time."

Na-Hee's laugh comes out more like a scoff, disgusted.

"You're all the same. You step on others to climb to the top and only when you fall short do you start to apologize. It's not for me, it's for you. Always for you—a last ditch effort to save yourself."

So-Mi can only stare blankly, sensing her impending doom.

"This isn't how it's supposed to go. Something must be wrong. It's not me..."

Seizing his chance to take the advantage offered, Da-Bum chimes in, "Is that the reason you used me also? To get rid of Kyung-Jun?"

So-Mi turns to him, livid.

"Yah!"

"Now it's too late for you to deny it," Mi-Na follows in his tracks. "It was your idea in the first place to probe around and steal his keys."

You finally realize, with startling clarity, that Kyung-Jun had wanted to protect you after all.

How he knew it would eventually come to this, you'll never figure out.

"Did you intentionally kill Kyung-Jun?" Jun-Hee interjects to question, seeking confirmation for something he has already deeply suspected.

"Why would I?" So-Mi still denies. "He would never lose the upper hand."

And yet, he gave it up for you.

His weakness...

...Is it me?

Eun-Chan's outburst finally draws you out of your musing as he shoves So-Mi rearward, the squeaking sound of her shoes skidding on the floor like that of a guillotine dropping.

"You've had it out for everyone since the start! You really were going to send Eun-Ha to her death that time, weren't you? From that night forward, you only became greedier and crueler. If it hadn't been for your self-interest, we wouldn't have had to sacrifice so many innocent lives!" he spits words in her face. "All those people you wrongly accused that we foolishly believed, the Doctors could've saved in imminent danger!"

"How could you do that?" Yeon-Woo adds nearly inaudibly, in incredulity. "Do you not have even an ounce of humanity in your cold heart?"

"Of course she doesn't," Eun-Ha replies with certainty, glaring at So-Mi. "I knew it the day she was ready to send both Dong-Hyun and Seol-Hwa to their deaths at once in broad daylight. She's a living demon with no feelings—only vices."

"So...it wasn't just speculation after all," Jun-Hee says with utter venom in his voice, reaching over to take your hand in his tightly, the tragic thought of having been so close to losing you resurfacing.

So-Mi flips her hair out of her face angrily, crazed wide eyes looking at everyone in succession.

"I had no choice!" she screeches. "Is it a crime to simply want to survive? Do you think I wanted to become the Mafia?" She throws her hands up in the air as her eyes brim with emotions, tone conveying all her frustrations. "It's not like I had a say in any of this!"

Crocodile tears.

Now everyone can see through them.

Eun-Chan grabs her by the collar violently, disregarding his strength overpowering hers.

"Stop with your bullshit." His hold tightens and you see So-Mi's eyes shifting back and forth, not expecting such a strong reaction from him. "Does it even matter now if we survive? What about us? Do we deserve to die, huh?! Do we?!" As she tries and fails to loosen his grip on her, he only tightens his hold and lowly grits through his teeth, "So what? You deserve to live and we deserve to die?! It always comes back to you, you, you, doesn't it?!" he shouts in her face, throwing her defense back in her face.

No one chose to play this game.

But every choice was a conscious decision.

And she had chosen the vilest methods of all.

Having had enough, So-Mi's hands come up to yank his fingers away from around her neck, and only after multiple unsuccessful attempts, does Eun-Ha step forward to reel Eun-Chan back.

"I didn't kill anyone. My hands have no blood on them, unlike the other members. What happened to Se-Eun has nothing to do with me. There's no need to pay for sins I didn't commit."

"I dare you to say that again," you warn, no longer playing nice. "Don't use Se-Eun—or anyone else for that matter—for your own sake. You don't deserve to do that. Keep our names out of your dirty mouth."

"And just who are you to be preaching to me about right and wrong?" she targets you as she shoves you aside, but you stand your ground, unflinching.

You slap her across the face, and as she tries to retaliate, you hit her again on the other cheek, the sound echoing in the now quiet lobby.

Everyone looks on without intervening, knowing full well she deserved everything and more coming her way.

"A good friend," you answer. "Something you'll never be, nor will you ever have." Stepping closer, you fix her with a hatred-filled glare, simmering with repulsion. "This isn't even half of the punishment you ought to receive."

"Shut up!"

"Why should I?" you lark derisively in her face as you pat her shoulder condescendingly. "You don't have the right to tell me or anyone what to do anymore because guess what?" You jab a finger into her shoulder blade and force her back, digit digging into the skin as she flinches. "Your mask has fallen and your ugly true self is on full display."

As she opens her mouth to respond, Jun-Hee steps in between, shielding you.

"Enough!"

Desperately, So-Mi clings onto his hand, pleading, "Jun-Hee...save me. Please?"

He pulls his hand out, dusting it with the other as if her touch alone sickened him to no end, while hers dangle limply, now lonely holding onto cold air.

"I didn't think you could repulse me more than you already do, but you seem to always have a penchant in proving me wrong."

Jun-Hee slides his phone from his pocket, swiveling the screen toward her as he votes without an inch of change in expression.

The first vote becomes the catalyst for the others.

[ ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ʜᴀɴ sᴇᴏʟ-ʜᴡᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ᴊᴀɴɢ ʜʏᴜɴ-ʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ᴋɪᴍ ᴅᴏɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ᴏʜ ᴊᴜɴɢ-ᴡᴏɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ᴀʜɴ ɴᴀ-ʜᴇᴇ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ᴄʜᴏɪ ᴍɪ-ɴᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ. ]

"Don't do it! Don't vote! Hand me the phone!"

"Will you just stop already?!" Da-Bum strides forward, pushing her to the ground and she hits it so hard, you wonder if the impact will bring some sense back into her. "Give it up. You've lost."

For some reason, despite his fervor, you can't buy into it.

It seems like a show, and he's putting on his best performance.

Maniacal laughter rings out, bouncing off the linoleum floor, and you're truly convinced So-Mi has gone mad.

"You're all fooled," she states while slowly rising to a seated position. "Do you even know who the rest of the Mafias are?" her voice stutters as she's about to throw her teammates under the bus.

You stare in horror as her neck veins start protruding and she chokes on her next words, cheeks puffing out before blood spews from her lips.

[ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛɪᴇs ᴏғ ғᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ᴍᴀғɪᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴs. ]

Red liquid streams, hitting the floor only to splatter as it pools.

Even so, So-Mi tries to swipe her fingers through the red ocean she's drowning in, attempting to write the forbidden final words in her own rivulets of blood.

"You're doing all sorts of things now. If you're going to die, then at least do it quietly and quickly," Eun-Chan dismisses.

[ ɪᴍ ᴇᴜɴ-ᴄʜᴀɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ɴᴀ ʏᴇᴏɴ-ᴡᴏᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ʙᴀᴇᴋ ᴇᴜɴ-ʜᴀ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ.

ᴄʜᴀ ʏᴜ-ᴊᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ. ]

Crawling toward Yoon-Seo, the kindest of the group and the sole player left yet to vote, not that it would matter, So-Mi grasps at her hands like a lifeline, smearing blood on Yoon-Seo's palms.

As the shorter girl is pulled down to crouch in front of So-Mi's sprawled out body, there are tears in her eyes.

This time, it is out of resentment and not pity.

"You're the one who brought this about, so you have no one to blame except yourself. You should have turned back around when you knew you had already gone too far."

[ ʟᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴏɴ-sᴇᴏ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ. ]

"We need to hide," Da-Bum reminds as he steps over So-Mi's feet, downright ignoring her existence. "Forget about her."

As Jung-Won tugs Yoon-Seo upstairs, the latter swivels her head around to look at you and you nod at her, assuring her that you'll meet again in the morning.

Yu-Jun slows to a stop beside you and only when half the group has dispersed do you turn and whisper to him, "Please save Na-Hee. She's done more than enough for us."

"I will," he promises. "Her efforts won't be in vain."

Yu-Jun pretends to brush past you like nothing more than a mere classmate as Jun-Hee comes to your side.

You watch as Dong-Hyun and Hyun-Ho support Na-Hee from either side, stopping at the foot of the steps leading upstairs. Whatever she says to them has them both turning around to look at you.

Na-Hee hobbles over to you and Jun-Hee, looking in turn at the two of you. "Will you both come with me?" She twiddles her fingers. "There's something I have to say."

You turn to Jun-Hee and readily agree, the trust mutual.

"I won't take long," you say, before hurriedly climbing the steps where Dong-Hyun and Hyun-Ho have ascended halfway, pausing upon hearing your approaching footsteps.

Hyun-Ho is absolutely crestfallen, eyes not leaving from the spot where Na-Hee stands.

You understand him so plainly without the need to voice anything aloud, sympathizing with his feelings, and it hurts all the same.

Dong-Hyun lowers his head and shoves his hands in his pockets, at a loss for words.

"She'll be okay, I promise."

Hyun-Ho's eyes shift toward yours and you can see the tears forming. It breaks your heart to see him this way—someone so strong you've always relied on.

"Will she?" he inquires quietly, a lone teardrop falling from his left eye.

"I'll make sure of it. Please trust me even if it doesn't seem so initially tomorrow morning."

Hyun-Ho suddenly draws you into a hug, arms wrapped tight around you. Standing on a step lower than him, your face rests right against his chest and you can hear his erratic heartbeat, signaling his nervousness and worry. He whispers in your ear, ever so quietly, that you nearly miss it, "I know you've always wanted to be a Doctor, but I never thought it would be in this way. You're meant to be a lifesaver, Seol-Hwa, and I will root for you in the worlds I know of, and those I don't."

You pat his back soothingly, forcing your own tears to stay at bay, not knowing how much longer you'll have this familial love in you embrace. It tears you apart to think about.

"Then you must stay alive."

Pulling back, you slip the key from inside your skirt pocket and hand it over, placing it inside his palm.

"What's this?" Dong-Hyun asks, as you tug him closer, head tilting toward the key.

"It opens a storage shed on the roof only accessible from the inside. If you lock it, no one will be able to get to you."

They turn to you, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets.

"Where did you find this?"

You bite you lip, not quite sure how to respond, but you settle for, "Someone gave it to me as a parting gift."

Dong-Hyun is none the wiser, but Hyun-Ho's omniscient gaze makes you feel like he knows exactly who it is.

"What about you?"

Dong-Hyun moves, already making to take it out of Hyun-Ho's hand and give it back, but you shake your head, forcibly curling Hyun-Ho's fingers around the piece of metal, even as he resists it.

"I'll see you both soon," you reconcile as an answer, sending them a small smile, one not quite reaching your eyes, that isn't enough to dispel their reservations.

With one last hug for both of them, you pivot around and descend the steps toward an awaiting Na-Hee and Jun-Hee, knowing full well that if you were to stay, Dong-Hyun and Hyun-Ho would've made it hard for you to ever leave.

Na-Hee and Hyun-Ho hold eye contact as the seconds tick by, only looking away when the announcement comes in.

[ ᴠᴏᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs, ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

Na-Hee ambles away in front as Jun-Hee pulls you along by the hand to trail behind her.

Only when the lights grow dimmer do you spare one last glance at So-Mi, forced into submission as she prostrates herself at the foot of the white marble statue. Its presence demanded to be revered, glowing beneath a sole spotlight, shining like a halo.

Your eyes trail upward, only for your breath to catch in your throat once you finally recognize the face etched in stone.

After turning a few corners, Na-Hee swivels around to look from Jun-Hee to you, then down to your clasped hands before raising her head once more, lips curling upward. Though she's showing the tiniest of smiles, her eyes remain sad and distant, the light in them dwindled.

"The only reason I called you both is because I know for certain I can trust you. Your identities...I've figured them out."

"We'll try our best to keep you safe," you assure.

"Rather than that," Na-Hee motions toward the bathroom as the three of you stand outside the door, "I have a favor to ask."

"What is it?" Jun-Hee questions.

"I know the Mafia members will be after me tonight." She looks as though she's accepted the fact, no longer fearing the outcome. "So, I've devised a plan to catch them in case I don't make it."

"No, you will," you stress, not quite knowing if it was said to comfort her or yourself.

Na-Hee steps toward you and takes your hands in hers.

"I can't weigh if I deserve that. The least I can do is sacrifice myself to repay everyone, especially you, for the kindness you've shown me even with my faults. If it comes down to it, I don't mind dying if you all can make it out of here."

"Na-Hee..."

"Before we conclude it there, let's at least try, yeah?" Jun-Hee suggests. "We all came here together. We should all leave together too."

You squeeze her hand and Na-Hee finally relents, agreeing for the time being, pushing the bathroom door open and gesturing around.

"I happened to find a really great hiding spot a while ago and was saving it to use, but I don't think there's a better time than now." She points at the ceiling and you finally notice the square trap door above. "I'll be up here through the night as hidden bait." Na-Hee pulls out a paint canister from inside her hoodie and goes to grab a spray bottle of air freshener. "If we mix these together and spritz it all over the floor, anyone who steps inside will reveal themselves."

"How will we see it?" Jun-Hee asks.

Na-Hee sprays a little on the sink countertop and flips the light switch off, the yet-to-dry patch immediately glowing neon orange.

Once the lights come back on again, you turn to Jun-Hee, suddenly remembering.

"Those UV lights Yoon-Seo mentioned once that we found in the storage room," you jog his memory. "We can use those to catch the culprits."

"Are you two accepting my request?"

"Of course—no doubt about it. We'll do everything we can."

"If us Citizens had worked together like this from the beginning, I think things would've turned out very differently," Jun-Hee laments absentmindedly, but it still gives you and Na-Hee much to think about, and to regret.

"Then let's start now," Na-Hee concludes. "We can work toward the happy ending we're all desperately wishing for."

Knowing there's not much time remaining until the clock strikes twelve, the three of you make haste with the preparations in tandem. Even the little details are worked out, albeit with shortcuts given the allowed duration. Eventually, when it's five until, Jun-Hee helps Na-Hee onto the counter so she can climb up into the little space.

"We'll come get you in the morning," Jun-Hee states, prepared to go as Na-Hee settles in, giving him a nod of assurance.

Seeing as Na-Hee hasn't closed the door yet, he senses that she has more to say and turns to leave, waiting for you outside.

She peers down at you.

"Does Jun-Hee know?"

"That I'm a Doctor?" At her nod, you answer, "No, he doesn't, and I won't let him find out."

"Why is that?"

"He'll never forgive me if I don't put myself first, but I simply can't afford to be selfish. My job is to save everyone."

"You know you can't, right? Even if you really want to."

"So I've heard." You think back to the previous conversation with Hyun-Ho. "But I can't give up without trying."

"Can I ask for another favor?" Na-Hee voices quietly, and you look up, waiting for the shoe to drop. "Please don't save me."

You stare at her and she looks back, entirely serious.

"You know I can't do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Both. How can I stand by and do nothing if I can do something?"

Na-Hee sighs, looking down at you forlornly, yielding. "If..." she swallows, words caught in her throat. "If..." she begins again, "something were to happen to me tonight, please don't let Hyun-Ho see me tomorrow. You're the only one I can ask."

"Na-Hee..." you say, catching her eye. "I never break my promises."

It's vague, but you're sure she understands everything left unsaid.

"Thank you," is all she replies with. "And I'm sorry."

You two look at one another for a while more until Na-Hee fastens the hatch with a click, the silence that envelops the space now suffocating.

Taking a deep breath in and out while standing in the middle of the shrouding darkness, you imagine the glow of the paint to be those of the glow-in-the-dark stars you used to tape to the ceiling of your bedroom when you were little.

You hoped that the light, no matter how little, will shine even in the darkest of nights, just as it had then.

When day has broken, you wake up next to Jun-Hee, nestled in an inconspicuous alcove behind several bookshelves.

Given that Jun-Hee is still unaware of Yu-Jun activating the resurrection chance, he springs up hurriedly and dashes toward the restrooms, you swiftly following behind.

Despite knowing it in your heart, nothing will ever prepare you to see Na-Hee's body splayed out on the cold tiled floor, a plastic bag wrapped tight over her face.

Jun-Hee slumps to his knees, devastated. His breaths come out unevenly, yet again wallowing in the guilt of having allowed another classmate to perish.

You don't know how to calm him or tell him the full truth, and it pains you to see him so distraught.

His fingers are curled so tightly into fists that his knuckles turn white.

He looks up at you standing dead still beside him, eyes rimmed red. You're hesitant to be the first to reach out, but your eyes soften as they meet his.

On your next outbreath, that's all it takes for Jun-Hee to get to his feet and pull you in firmly for a hug, tears wetting your shoulder.

The secret eats you alive, every teardrop of his like spikes of ice against your skin, piercing and cutting you deep.

"I shouldn't have approved of the idea last night."

You close your eyes and swallow down the lump in your throat at his broken voice. "It's what Na-Hee wanted," you reason quietly, hugging him tighter, not knowing how else to console him aside from your presence alone.

"But it's not what we wanted."

"I know," you respond shakily.

"What do we do now?"

Jun-Hee sounds so lost and it takes everything in you to not tell all.

"We wait." He pulls back to look at you and your hands come up to cup his face, wiping away his tears. "For Na-Hee to wake up again."

"What do you mean?"

"There hasn't been an execution announcement, which can only mean one thing."

Only then does it ignite the fire again in his eyes as he leans forward to pull you in toward him, body less tense that it had been.

"Then we will wait," he repeats your words. "For a miracle."

The meeting that ensues is entirely dismal, exhaustion and bleakness evident on everyone's faces.

Mi-Na is the last to arrive as all eyes turn to her, your own doing a cursory sweep of her appearance, outfit entirely unlike what she had on the previous night.

As the door shuts behind her, Jun-Hee drags a counter with a black tabletop into the center of the room and sprays its surface with an ample amount of the solution you two and Na-Hee had made.

"We mixed air freshener with neon paint. In this way, the one who tried to kill Na-Hee will have it on their shoes," he cuts straight to the chase.

At this, you raise the UV light stick by your side and slowly drag it over the table, lines of scans leaving trails of glowing light.

"Did Na-Hee really put you up to this?" Da-Bum inquires, stepping forward next to you to take a closer look. "It's not a lie, right?"

You shift away, irked by his presence more than ever before. Eyes narrowing, you turn your head to analyze his expression.

"Who are you really doubting here? Us...or yourself?"

"I—"

"Na-Hee's not here," Mi-Na rudely cuts in and you can't tell if it's respite on Da-Bum's face you see. "We don't even know whether she's still alive. How can we believe you and Jun-Hee?"

You press your lips together in a thin line before settling your attention on her. Regardless of whether she was Mafia or a Citizen, she had never been of any help aside from swaying the public opinion, always in the wrong direction, neither benefitting any side.

"There wasn't an announcement, just as it was in the case when Eun-Ha and Yu-Jun were revived."

Before she even has the slightest opening to retort, Jun-Hee presents his phone to the group, playing the video the three of you recorded last night as you strategized. Being two steps ahead, Na-Hee suggested it originally, understanding dawning that if something were to happen to her, no one would be able to refute this truth.

"Is this not enough proof?" There's no reason to object if you're not Mafia when the Police herself relied on Seol-Hwa and I. Am I wrong?"

"She knew our identities all along," you add. "We're both Citizens and that's enough for her to trust us. Can the same be said about you?"

You look from Mi-Na to Da-Bum who both avert their eyes, a sense of shame remaining.

"We learned of a way to find out." Jun-Hee kneels in front of you and you hand over the light stick, its white beam casting shadows of your footprint onto the floor. "May I?" he asks, reaching for your shoe.

At your nod, his fingers curl lightly around the back of your heel, hand gentle against the sliver of skin uncovered by your sock as he pulls it toward him, holding your foot steady atop his palm.

The rest watch on attentively as he waves the light wand around, scanning your shoes from every angle, no glow in sight.

"The offender will have specks of paint visible, whether that be on their socks or on their shoes."

Jun-Hee sets your feet back on the floor before going to examine the rest in succession, Mi-Na being the last to round out the inspection.

"Has this method actually been proven to work?"

She sidesteps and everyone looks up from where they were focused on Jun-Hee still squatting on the floor.

"Better this than nothing," you reply bluntly.

Despite her reluctance, Jun-Hee moves the search forward anyhow. He pauses short as he gets to her socks and you attempt to peer around the heads of the rest.

"Why is it glowing?" Yeon-Woo points at her without hesitation. "You—"

From behind, Da-Bum's voice comes in, unbidden as he scoffs, "No wonder. I found it weird when she wanted to steal Kyung-Jun's keys under So-Mi's orders without hesitation."

"Yah, don't act like you also weren't part of that!" Mi-Na snaps at him before waving her hand as a means of no offense to the group. "This isn't right. It really wasn't me."

"Did you take the venture to rid of Na-Hee?"

As always, Jung-Won is no nonsense.

"I didn't! How could I when I didn't know where she was?"

"Why is it on your shoe then?"

Eun-Chan and Yeon-Woo stand side by side, their perspectives in alignment.

"How could I possibly explain that?! All I can guarantee is that I'm a Citizen."

Rising to his feet, Jun-Hee lets his arm drop to his side.

"Can you prove it?"

"What?"

"Is there anything concrete to back up your claims? How can we believe you?" He throws her words back at her, forcing her into silence, unable to deny. "One more Mafia will bite the dust before the end of today."

Mi-Na throws her hands up into the air in irritation, voice rising as she insists, "Have you all lost your minds?! It's not me. I'm on your side!"

"We agreed to vote tonight," Yoon-Seo steadily states.

"Why?!" Yeon-Woo's tone conveying solely annoyance. "Why wait when we're sure it's her? Let's vote now."

Him and Eun-Chan grab each of Mi-Na's arms, wanting to get her out of sight.

"Take your hands off me!" When she's finally able to pull out of their grasps, she runs a hand through her hair. "How many times must I repeat that I'm blameless?"

Backing up her two closest friends, Eun-Ha brings up the topic of conversation looming over the group since a few nights ago.

"If you're so innocent, then how do you justify pocketing Kyung-Jun's keys and hiding it from us all?"

"So-Mi put me up to it!"

"As if she did." Eun-Chan pushes her back hard. "You both tried to gang up in order to fool everyone, down to the last minute of her life."

"She used me just the same!"

"Stop using her as an excuse for everything. After all, she was a Mafia you followed blindly," Hyun-Ho's voice is calm, but his words hold nothing back.

Sensing the ever-growing tension in the room slow to dissipate, Yoon-Seo steps in, rectifying with, "Let's all calm down for just a second."

She reaches toward Jun-Hee for the light source and he hands it over, confused.

"What are you doing?"

Yoon-Seo is in the process of re-scanning Mi-Na's shoes, this time from the top of her socks down to the very bottom of her soles, not missing any viewpoints for clues.

"Look, if she really was present, the paint would've dyed the bottom also. It's weird how it merely grazed the socks' sides. Someone could've put it on her. We can't be sure yet."

Jun-Hee gazes at his childhood best friend in incredulity, yet to accept that out of everyone, she would be the first to be against him.

To make matters even worse, Jung-Won sides with Yoon-Seo.

"Let's vote tonight as we initially intended. We should make a decision when our heads are clearer."

For the first time ever since knowing them, Jun-Hee seems genuinely angry with Yoon-Seo as he heads to exit the room, not acknowledging anyone further, footsteps heavy, echoing with his indignation.

Yoon-Seo calls out, trying to rationalize and make amends, but if he hears her, he pretends not to.

You look up as Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo emerge from the bathrooms, surprised to see you waiting outside.

"What's wrong?" Yoon-Seo takes up right away, noticing the expression on your face.

"Can we talk?"

Saving the formalities, you look from her to Jung-Won.

Yoon-Seo's eyes shift between the two of you inquisitively as the one in question nods, but she doesn't push the matter further, excusing herself to find Jun-Hee and apologize.

Once she's left, Jung-Won's steps fall in line with yours as you two walk side-by-side, you leading her away from the building.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there."

She doesn't ask more, catching on that you wouldn't answer anyhow.

If she's stunned when you bring her back to the scene of the crime where Yu-Jun previously laid, she doesn't show it.

Chills run up your spine as you eye the puddle of dried blood on the ground, maroon splatters yet to fade.

Jung-Won's voice pulls you out of your trance.

"Why are we here again?"

"You should know better than I do."

She crosses her arms across her chest and fixes you with a perplexed stare.

"I'm not picking up what you're putting down."

"Jung-Won ah," you say tiredly, and the tenor exasperation laced in it has her eyes wavering. "Do you still consider me as a friend?"

"Of course I do," she answers without hesitation. "You can doubt anything except for that. We're in this together until the end."

You can't tell if you want to laugh, scream, or cry.

"And what end is that?"

A bitter smile makes its way onto your face, your lips quivering.

Jung-Won's eyebrows crease together, confusion and frustration mixed. "Have I done something wrong?" She takes a step toward you, arms now relaxed by her sides. "How have we become so distant so quickly?"

You shake your head, not knowing how to fix this.

"Is that all you have to say to me?"

"What do you want me to say then?"

The silence stretches between the two of you as your trembling hands reach for your skirt pocket, unsteadily pulling out an empty soda can.

The one you offered her that morning.

The same one that rested by the doorway of the warehouse.

Jung-Won's favorite.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

"Tell me it's not you."

"Are you...suspicious of me?"

Her eyes move rapidly between your own and you hate that you can visibly see the walls of her defense being built in the reflection of her pupils, impenetrable.

"As your best friend, I trust you." Your sincerity is true, which only hurts all the more. You swallow down the lump in your throat, the words you never thought you would have to say forcing its way through like scratches of thorns. "However..." the interjection is paired with a pause and you take a step back on wobbly feet. "...as your opponent in this game, I doubt you."

"Seol-Hwa—"

"Even now, you have yet to refute it. You can't tell me what I want to hear." A tear attempts to force its way out but you force it to remain at bay, eyes burning. "I hope that whatever happens...our friendship won't grow to die like my belief in you slowly is." Turning around, you crunch the flattened soda can in your hand, fingers compressing against the cold aluminum. "This is my first and last request—as someone you have to compete against and...as a friend who would always let you win."

The can drops with a resonant sound, clanging as it hits the ground to match your footsteps as you walk away, empty and hollow.

Maybe it's better this way.

You avoid Jung-Won and she avoids you.

Neither Jun-Hee nor Yoon-Seo seem to notice, lost in their own thoughts.

The night is approaching fast without a solution in sight that would benefit the Citizens, the disadvantaged minority in this cursed game.

Sitting in the reticent dark, the mere sepia glow of the table lamps cling to the edges of everything, softening the sharpness of veracity, making it harder to tell where the truth began and the lies ended.

Under the dim, honeyed light, it was like looking through a veil at a faded photograph that was not blurry enough yet also not clear enough, scarcely differentiable—a hazy in-between of half-truths and half-realities.

You can make out your own heartbeat, beating in time with the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, its hands creeping toward midnight; a sound that used to comfort you now only unsettles you, like an omnipresent omen you could neither ignore nor rid of.

A creak of the floorboards breaks the stillness of the suffocating four walls closing in as Jung-Won enters and shuts the door behind her, your musings put on hold.

"I didn't see any wounds on Mi-Na's body. We talked for a while and nothing of importance was noticeable."

"The Mafia keeps deceiving us. How about we do the same?" Yoon-Seo proposes off-handedly.

"In what way?"

"What if create a scenario where we act as though we discovered the camera Na-Hee set up in secret only to find out that it's dead, in need of charging. Those guilty will go to great lengths and do anything to destroy it as they did with the basement footage. We'll separate the two most suspicious people and see who will risk showing up."

"Do you think it'll be enough?"

Yoon-Seo pauses for a second, lips pursed.

"We have to force them to make a move by catching them off-guard."

"Let's do it," you willingly concur as Jun-Hee goes ahead in texting the group chat, the disguised ploy in the form of a notification.

"I'll go place Woo-Ram's camcorder in a position set to lure and meet you guys later."

Jun-Hee is the first to leave before Yoon-Seo addresses Jung-Won.

"I'm going to go with Seol-Hwa and see if we can isolate any of the other members. Jung-Won, you should stay with Mi-Na and continue to keep an eye on her. She already trusts you now so it would be easier for her to drop her defenses and let her guard down around you."

You don't wait for confirmation from Jung-Won before stepping out of the room with Yoon-Seo closely on your heels after exchanging her last words.

Slowing down your pace so that Yoon-Seo can catch up, you're startled when she links her arms with yours.

"Are you okay?"

Yoon-Seo's kind eyes stare back at you, sincere and worried all at once.

You force a smile onto your face that you hope is heartening but seeing as the corners of her lips begin to curve downward, maybe you're not as good at hiding secrets as you think you are.

"Are you?" you decide to say in response, evading.

She sighs, head dipping slightly.

"It would be a lie if I answered you in the affirmative because I'm not. I don't think any of us truly are. The more we play, the more that we're supposedly alive, but the longer this goes on, all I feel is as though I'm gradually dying from the inside."

You look at her and feel even more guilty with the white lies you've told her, and everything you've kept hidden. Out of everyone, Yoon-Seo is the least deserving of betrayal. If she found out what you have suspected about Jung-Won, you didn't know how she would take it.

"I don't know whether I'll make it out of here, but I wish that everyone I care for won't get hurt in the way I'm trying to prevent them from."

"It might be a little too late for that," Yoon-Seo says it with a light tone, but you both know how deep that truth runs.

A comfortable silence descends as the two of you squeeze in close quarters, concealing yourselves behind a pantry door, leaving only enough space to see out, the camera in your direct line of sight across the room.

"Yoon-Seo..."

"Hmm?"

"What is something you think is the hardest to forgive?”

"Betraying trust."

"And what would it take for you to forgive it?"

Before you can hear her response, the two of you hold your breaths as the sound of hassled footfalls approach, one foot crossing the threshold.

Your eyes trail upward to see the intruder as Yoon-Seo inhales beside you.

Da-Bum.

Your suspicions all this time were finally proven right.

Yet, you didn't know whether to be worried or relieved by that fact.

As he fiddles with the settings and supposedly captured material, you can hear him stressing to himself, fingers carding roughly through his hair every few seconds as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, on the balls of his feet.

"There's...nothing? That can't be right. Not if—"

"Not if what?" comes Jun-Hee's voice from the doorway and Da-Bum jolts, the camera flying out of his hand to land on the floor with a thud. "Not if you're the Mafia, right?"

"No, I—"

Yoon-Seo guides you out from hiding and the three of you surround him.

"Were you afraid it caught you?" Yoon-Seo questions with disgust.

"It's not that," Da-Bum retorts lamely, flapping his hands around, panicked.

"What is it then?" you probe, stepping toward him as he averts your all-knowing stare. "The fact that you were lured and came willingly, or the fact that you didn't think you could be fooled after fooling us all?"

As Da-Bum prepares to spew more nonsense, Jun-Hee clutches him by the collar forcefully, nearly choking him in anger as he wrenches him out into the open hallway.

"Get over here, you Mafia scum!" Mi-Na's shrill incoming voice mixes with Da-Bum's wheezing as she shoves Yeon-Woo, the latter bumping into the former, the counter-forces sending both stumbling in opposite directions.

"It's him."

Mi-Na and Yoon-Seo look at one another as they simultaneously declare while pointing their fingers at the culprit they rounded up.

"Guys," Da-Bum begins, straightening out his shirt and adopting his pitiful act once again, weaseling for a way out. "It's not like that. It's not me."

"Whatever you may be thinking, it's not true. Will you at least hear me out?!" Yeon-Woo's speech is strained as his hand instantaneously clutches at the upper quadrant of his abdomen.

"It's Da-Bum," Yoon-Seo repeats.

Mi-Na insists otherwise.

"It's Yeon-Woo."

"What confirmation made you come to that reckless conclusion?" you ask as the rest file in, all sorts of baffled.

"There was a gash on his body." She chucks multiple blood-soaked towels onto the pristine floor. "We found him in the infirmary patching himself up. Whether it's his blood, someone else's, or both, he's yet to say."

Your head spins at the revelation, ears ringing at the voices coming from every which way, accusing and refusing.

Whipping around, you cast Da-Bum a glare as you see the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face.

Though he tries to conceal it, relief is always harder to hide than discomfort.

Yoon-Seo slowly spins around, chin quavering with repressed rage as she stares Da-Bum down.

"About what you asked me earlier, Seol-Hwa."

And what would it take for you to forgive betrayal?

"Time—lots of time. Maybe forever."

For as long as you have known, forever meant always.

But here, forever can also mean never.

𝟭𝟬 : 𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗙 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 , 𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗙 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 | 𝟭𝟮 : 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗧

You didn’t dare look up, knowing that if you did, you’d find his brown eyes fixed on you and suppressing your long withstanding predicament would be for naught.

Instead, you focused on the task at hand, not trusting yourself to gaze upward. 

It’s hard to ignore Jun-Hee’s hands clenched so hard at his side and his shallow breathing, at times holding his breath altogether, like every featherlight touch from your trembling fingers creates for him an internal struggle you could neither see nor were privy to. 

Without the presence of the others as a buffer, the tension between the two of you, now amplified in this dimly lit space, felt even more palpable.

Try as you might, you can’t pretend that you don’t see his eyes flickering from your own down to your lips and back again.

Scooting a bit farther back on your seat and pulling away slightly to revert back to a semblance of personal space, you clear your throat awkwardly, the sudden sound breaking the quiet.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not at all.”

You fix him with a look as you take the cotton swab soaked in antiseptic and press it deeply into the tear. 

“Ouch!”

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt?”

A small smile touches his lips and you're glad you're the one to have put it there. 

“I’m trying to be brave here, please play along.”

You playfully lean forward in your seat toward him, thankful for the unintentional distraction from earlier.

“Alright, then. Care to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

Tentatively reaching a hand up to place against his forehead, you place slight pressure and are surprised to find it’s warm to the touch. 

“Are you sick?”

“Strike one.”

“Then…do you have something you want to say?”

He doesn’t answer for a long while, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like he’s physically holding back.

“Strike two,” he ultimately responds, so quietly you almost miss it.

“You look…” His eyes finally lock with yours, and you can’t figure out exactly why they’ve become darker than before, even beneath the bright lights. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’ll give me the wrong idea…”

“Strike three.”

Unexpectedly, he pulls your stool closer by the underside lever, putting you practically nose to nose with him, your seat now placed against the edge of the bed with his legs on either side of it, holding it in place.

A gasp escapes you before you can stop it.

Given the close proximity, his body heat emanates in waves while his eyes become dazed once they fixate on your face.

“Help heal me.”

“W-what would you like for me to do for you?”

“Will you kiss it better?”

At a loss for words, the only thing you can manage to stutter out is, “We can’t go on like this,” you say. “Like friends is all we are.”

“Then…” He inches his face closer to yours. “Let’s ruin our friendship.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Jun-Hee cups your face so you can no longer avoid his intent stare, urging you to look at him. 

“If I tell you, here and now, that I like you—as more than a friend—would you leave, or would you stay?”

He tilts his head toward you and you quickly place the backside of your hand against your lips, your palm facing him.

Slowly, Jun-Hee inches toward you, allowing you ample time to move away if you refused the advances. 

Softly, he presses a kiss into the middle of your palm. 

“You asked me if I’m sick?” He nods. “I am—lovesick that is. I’ve been meaning to tell you, all these years, that I like you—I like you a lot. Ever since the first day I met you, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. To this day, I still can’t. Liking you has been very easy, I realized, but it is staying only as friends with you that has been very hard.” Reaching out for the hand still pressed against the bottom half of your face, he places it flat against the left side of his chest where his heart rests. At your touch, it instantly beats quicker, every pulse reverberating against your palm. “Can’t you see how I feel about you?”

“This is too good to be true. Any second now I think I’ll wake up from this dream, and I’ll still be the one hiding how I feel about you, without you returning even an ounce of it.”

Ever so gently, he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers on his free hand. Without thinking, you lean further into the touch.

“This is real, and so are my feelings. I can repeat it as many times as you would like for the rest of my life until you believe me, for I mean every single word. Trust me when I say there’s only you, Han Seol-Hwa. There will always only ever be you.”

Your heart pounds stronger, louder, and you pause, the fond inflection in Jun-Hee’s voice as he says your name silences.

Without hesitation, he brings a hand under your chin, tilting it upward to meet his approaching face.

For the first time, you stop running away.

For the first time, you stop fighting against your feelings.

For the first time, you let them consume you.

Jun-Hee leans in to kiss you softly, his lips moving on yours with tenderness in a way that makes you feel lightheaded—like clouds have descended around you, enveloping you in its embrace.

Fireworks don’t explode behind your eyelids and neither do butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach, but a sense of happiness fills your heart from the bottom up, and you let it overflow.

Unlike the grandeur and the unexpected nature of it, you think that love is calm, and love is comfortable.

Love is sitting in the silence of the other’s feelings and it still would mean more than a a hundred excitements can show, more than a thousand words can say.

Jun-Hee’s hand on your face trails down to rest on the back of your head, fingers brushing the side of your neck to bring you in ever closer.

When he reluctantly pulls away, he leans his forehead against yours, thumb running across your bottom lip.

You lose your breath, drowning in the waves of his affections for you.

“You’re my first kiss, and you’ll also be my last, Jun-Hee.”

He grins teasingly, pulling you in closer by the waist, as though he would never tire of looking at you. “You seem to have forgotten our real first kiss.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly fall off the stool, but he steadies you, chuckling lightly. “Y-you knew about it?”

“On the bus that day, I only woke up at the end so it was fleeting, but I still felt the ghost of your lips on mine.”

“Can you please pretend to have not remembered?” you ask out of embarrassment, face flushing.

“Rather than that, I want to make sure I’ll never forget.”

With that, he goes to kiss you again, this time longer and deeper than the last, every word of love in existence imprinted on your lips.

When you pull apart once more, he draws you toward him, hugging you tightly. His heart is beating out of his chest and you know yours was echoing to the same rhythm.

“I know we don’t have much time, and I know the odds are against us, but even if the world was ending, I would be happy to be by your side, in whatever capacity you’ll allow me. For however long we may have remaining together, can I be yours?”

You snuggle closer, eyes fluttering closed. “You’ll always be mine just as I have always been yours. To whatever end, it will forever be us, Kim Jun-Hee.”

You store away the emotions from the confession, using it as motivation and incentive, a means of escapism. 

After the momentary feelings of bliss and happiness, you’re once again thrown back into the loop of reality, drowning in bleakness and sorrow. 

The weight of the few remaining hours hangs above everyone’s heads as you pull out a seat between Yoon-Seo and Jun-Hee while the others gather around the circular conference table, completely shrouded in the dark.

“Whose idea is this? To discuss where there’s barely any lights?” you ask.

“Mine,” So-Mi pipes up.

“I wasn’t aware we were holding a seance since you’re already here present in person.”

Eun-Ha tries and fails to stifle her laugh, and before So-Mi can retaliate, Yoon-Seo strategically moves the discussion along, though you don’t miss the slight upturn of her lips.

“Tonight, none of us have much of a choice as we all have to vote to keep the opposition in check. What should we do? Where do we go from here?”

Eun-Chan rests his folded hands atop the table, sharing his opinion, “I think Kyung-Jun seems to be a Citizen from what we know about him, but Jin-Ha is a wild card—so unknown and possibly the wildest in the deck.” He sighs. “We might have a better chance in saving Kyung-Jun, all things considered.”

So-Mi stares ahead, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s not safe to rule him out either. He acts oddly too. If he’s a fellow Citizen as he claims, what use is there to kill the Doctor, who’s also on their side?”

“Their?” you quickly call out. “Don’t you mean our side?” At your words, you can see Na-Hee, directly across from you, fixing her attention closely on So-Mi.

So-Mi backpedals to fix her slip-up, “I was talking in the third person. Don’t get your feathers all ruffled.”

Eun-Ha scoffs in distaste.

“You know, if you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty.”

Eun-Chan chokes on the water he was drinking and that peeves So-Mi off even more, so much so that she resorts to biting her lip to stop herself from making a scene, in fear of being cornered.

As Eun-Ha sits back with a smirk, Mi-Na speaks up, “She has a point. Kyung-Jun did keep that ax hidden away.”

“Do you have any brain cells or not?” Yeon-Woo chastises. “He has a whole set of keys. Why would he ever need to break down doors just to waste unnecessary effort and strength?”

“You’re one to talk, dumbass!” Mi-Na fires back. “Fill those holes in your head and think properly. He must’ve broken it to avoid suspicion. If he opened the door without a second thought, don’t you think we all would’ve pinned him as the killer immediately? Who else aside from him could have access?”

“I can put that aside for now, but the most recent thing is Jin-Ha forging the Police’s well-intended message to set us on the wrong path.”

“Right,” Da-Bum agrees, and you can’t help but notice something has changed about him. Perhaps it’s due to the bullies no longer lording over him, but the shift in his demeanor unsettles you. “Jin-Ha often used to borrow money from Jung-Won to waste away on lottery tickets. He might’ve killed him because he didn’t want to return the favor. With how he is, that could’ve been the start of serial murder.”

“That’s quite a petty reason to act out a heinous crime…” Yeon-Woo mutters, and you think the same.

It’s too light of a matter to warrant such a heavy consequence.

“Yoon-Seo, you’re good at unraveling mysteries and have a greater extent for thinking outside the box than us,” Na-Hee praises. “Who do you think is the Mafia?”

Yoon-Seo fiddles with her fingers beside you.

“Actually…there is something that still bothers me.”

“What is it?”

“When the Mafia eliminates someone as they have been doing, it’s announced that they are executed, but that wasn’t the case when Yu-Jun died. It’s probably because the incident happened while we were all conscious unlike usual, but what if both Jin-Ha and Kyung-Jun are Citizens?“

So-Mi groans despite it making absolute sense to you.

“Why do you have to make it so complicated? The two of were in cahoots to end Yu-Jun. We can simply prevent them from voting.”

“No,” Jun-Hee disagrees, not even looking her way. “If we discard everyone carelessly without giving them a chance at fair play, we’re no different from the creator of this game.”

“Let me translate for you,” Eun-Ha mocks. “Stop saying nonsense.”

So-Mi has had enough of her, you can tell, but tries her best to keep her composure, though the vein popping out the side of her temple reveals otherwise.

“The Police should use their skill and do a better job. That way, we wouldn’t have to repeatedly go around in circles without a concrete idea of where things stand.”

“That would be the safest way to do it,” Yeon-Woo considers it positively.

Eun-Ha smacks him on the arm and he recoils. “Don’t listen to her! Do you not see how she’s still putting herself before everyone else? She doesn’t care about who the Mafia is, who lives, or who dies. So long as she survives.”

“We can’t do that So-Mi,” you side with Eun-Ha. “Have you forgotten that Yu-Jun died and the way in which he did? If someone who everyone accused as being a Doctor is treated that way and now our chances are dwindled, the Police who are also Citizens would be under greater pressure. Don’t force their hand when they’re also trying their best. The message written must’ve taken a lot of courage to even get out there.”

“Are you forgetting that this is a game?”

“It’s not just a game!” you raise your voice at her. A few others are taken aback as you aren’t one to get angry, rarely do you even get upset. “Everyone’s lives are at stake. Maybe you can solely prioritize yourself, but there are others who would like to have more survivors than corpses by the end of it all.”

“We can’t very well at this moment ask Yu-Jun what his identity is or who wronged him,” Hyun-Ho supplies. “Going by your skewed logic, that would be the easiest solution, would it not, So-Mi? Even what appears to be most facile always comes with a price.”

“Enough, everyone,” Jun-Hee concludes, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly stressed. “We have to weigh the evidence and choose who to vote. That way, we’ll all agree and the decision is as unanimous as it can be.”

“What about these?” 

Dong-Hyun gestures to Kyung-Jun and Jin-Ha’s phones in the middle of the table like a centerpiece.

“We’ll bring it to them along with the results of our polling.”

“Are we all going together then?”

Jun-Hee shakes his head. 

“You guys should hide after casting your votes. Only after you’re all settled down will I be in and out of their rooms quickly enough.”

“I’ll go with you,” Da-Bum volunteers. “If I take one down, we can end it sooner.”

Somehow, what he says sends shivers up your spine, the choice of words unnerving, but you don’t have concrete support for your growing unease at his newfound proactiveness nor your gnawing intuition.

In the end, you’re forced to bite your tongue.

Tonight of all nights, your hands are tied, no longer possessing the ability to save anyone.

Most of all, not even yourself.

Only when morning comes will it reveal what night has fallen on.

[ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ɢᴏ ᴋʏᴜɴɢ-ᴊᴜɴ, ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ, ᴡᴀs ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs, ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ. ]

The lobby was suffocating in its silence, thick with a foreboding gloom that no one could shake. Those remaining were huddled in small, tense groups, faces pale from the shock of the night’s events. 

Everything felt stilted, heavy with the knowledge of futile escape. 

There was no help, no answers, and no exit. 

There was only your stranded few, alone, trapped in a game with far too many rules, yet the only one that mattered was to survive.

“They were at each other’s throats yesterday and now today, they’ve both passed on.” 

Yeon-Woo stands somberly beside Eun-Chan, sighing, as they cover the bodies of Kyung-Jun and Jin-Ha, both with entirely different endings.

The latter’s front was littered with erratic stab wounds, while the latter’s head had been bashed in, skin marinating in its own blood.

You can’t help but to think of their gruesome death contrasting with one another: Kyung-Jun’s representing his brash and impulsive nature, always running toward trouble rather than away from it, and Jin-Ha’s, a symbol of his turning back on responsibility, evading and following, yet never leading.

“I don’t think I can stomach this any longer,” Eun-Chan laments remorsefully, looking on. “By majority, Jin-Ha was voted off, and I can understand that. What I can’t comprehend is why the Mafia had to go to such great lengths to desecrate his already lifeless body, especially in addition to inflicting so much cruelty on Kyung-Jun as well.”

You crouch down by the side of Kyung-Jun’s body, observing his face uncovered by fabric, a peaceful expression now etched onto his features permanently.

For once, the scowl lines characteristic of the mask of anger he always wore were no longer apparent and you hoped that despite everything, in his last hours, he had felt another feeling besides hatred.

Thinking back to the previous night and what you didn’t know at the time would be the final conversation with him, you wonder if he knew it would end like this.

Do those living having a premonition of their own death?

Go Kyung-Jun, you were right.

No one will ever be able to find out your weakness.

Not anymore.

The key he gave to you hangs heavy in your skirt pocket, seemingly weighing much more than when you received it.

“Hold on,” Yoon-Seo begins as she kneels on the other side, opposite you, also surveying the body.

“What’s wrong?”

She points to his right hand, the one closest to you, fists clenched tightly, as though holding onto something with a desperation no one could fathom.

“I was studying the wounds and the way in which that were exacted follows the same pattern as Seung-Bin’s.”

“Are you saying it’s the same executioner?”

Yoon-Seo nods, looking up at you.

“The location is the stomach this time around too, although far deeper. Whoever did this has a serious vendetta against the two and long accumulated resentment.”

Only one person comes to your mind.

Hyun-Ho takes a seat beside you as Yoon-Seo proceeds to reach over and attempt to pry Kyung-Jun’s fist open.

“Why are you doing that?” comes Da-Bum’s voice.

Reasoning instantly, Yoon-Seo tells him, “To see if I can find any clues he may have left behind unintentionally.” 

“Is this really necessary?” 

You fix your eyes on Da-Bum to gauge his defensive reaction and he looks away, angling his body out of your line of vision.

Seeing Yoon-Seo struggling, Hyun-Ho taps her on the forearm. 

“Let me try.”

As Yoon-Seo relents and regardless of using his full strength to tug at the stiff fingers, there’s no success. 

A few others try anyway, knowing full well that if the strongest of the lot couldn’t achieve the feat, no one else could.

“It’s no use,” Hyun-Ho mutters, sweat dotting his forehead after using various methods: pinching, twisting, forcing. No matter what he did, Kyung-Jun’s fist remained closed. “His grip’s overwhelmingly strong.”

“Go Kyung-Jun, just what is it you want to protect so badly?” Yoon-Seo intones under her breath, curious.

Where you had been silently watching, you decided it was worth a shot, given that you were the only one who hadn’t gone yet. 

Without another word, you scoot closer to Hyun-Ho, who still had the fist in his hand, and reached out lightly. 

The others, too exhausted and defeated, watched you, some with disbelief, some with desperate hope. 

Your fingers trembled from the cold touch as you gently held his much larger hand in yours, feeling the unnatural tension, but the moment that your fingertips touched, his appendages relaxed, surrendering the once firm grip.

As murmurs of surprise erupt around you, it merely echoed the thoughts swarming in your head.

With a soft breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, you carefully slide your fingers into the spaces between his, the touch slow, deliberate. His fingers—frozen in their grip—didn’t resist any longer, revealing what was wrapped in its grasp.

It was almost too easy.

With everyone crowding around to catch a glimpse, your eyes widen upon seeing it—a small, crumpled band-aid. 

The same one you had used to patch up his cheek weeks ago—the one he must have swiped off the counter beside you as he’d left the infirmary, completely unaware to you. 

Your classmates stare down at you incredulously. 

“What—how did you—” Eun-Chan’s voice trails off in stunned silence, the others too shocked to speak.

Your hands were shaking uncontrollably, but now, the shock in the room was unmistakable, undismissable. 

“Is this not—” you whisper out, nearly inaudible, but Hyun-Ho catches it.

His hand, hidden beneath the white sheet, darts out to wind around your wrist, stopping you in your haste. 

You cast a glance at him but he imperceptibly shakes his head, none the wiser to the rest. 

There must be a reason your cousin wanted you to keep this information hidden. It suddenly dawns on you no doubt he’d discern it, for you had given the same bandages of similar style to him and Dong-Hyun that very same day.

When the collective stupor wears off, Yoon-Seo pulls the sheets fully over, hands unsteady. 

“We should move them to the freezer with the rest.”

“We?” So-Mi scoffs in disgust. “There is no we. It’s everyone for themselves.” 

Without offering the tiniest bit of help, she saunters away, turning her back to the group.

“We’re supposed to stay together until voting,” Jun-Hee calls after her, frustrated.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs and shoots him an exasperated look, no longer the doe-eyed, starry gaze she used to reserve for him. “It won’t be hard to reassemble later.” As she stomps up the steps, she mutters grudgingly under her breath, “We don’t even know who we can trust.”

Mi-Na signals for Na-Hee to follow along, the lather shooting you an apologetic look before reluctantly doing as told, and you turn away, no longer expectant.

Even Da-Bum doesn’t stick around this time, turning on his heel to leave with the rest, face blank.

You couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out what his expression meant, but it’s evident he can’t purely sympathize or mourn properly those who had made his life a living hell.

As Yoon-Seo, Jun-Hee, and Jung-Won leave with the bodies, Dong-Hyun rushes over toward you and Hyun-Ho from the side alcove, pulling your arms along.

“I got here as quickly as I could but I figured you both should be the first to know,” he spews, out of breath.

“Know what?”

“Yu-Jun is awake.”

You nearly slip on your way to the pool but once you see Yu-Jun alive and conscious, you’re relieved more than words can express.

“We’ll give you two space,” Hyun-Ho acknowledges, motioning for Dong-Hyun to follow.

The latter is a bit confused, yet doesn’t push it, patting your head softly on the way out.

You gingerly sit down beside Yu-Jun, whose head is still bloody, red rivulets in dried streaks against his matted hair and pale skin.

“What happened?”

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that.” 

You draw your knees to your chest, resting your arms atop them.

Yu-Jun sighs, looking out into the distance. 

“To relive the exact moment I died, I don’t think I could do it.”

“How did you end up in that situation in the first place? Stuck between a rock and a hard space?” You glance at him. “Spare any details you’d like to forget.”

“After our talk on the curb and you had left, Jin-Ha was acting suspicious, holding an ax and heading to the warehouse with a determined look on his face—determined to kill.” Yu-Jun shudders at the thought. “I couldn’t sit by and watch if I could help it, but following him was a mistake.”

“Did you go after him out of curiosity or guilt?”

Yu-Jun pauses as you easily figure him out. 

“Both,” he answers. “Equally both.”

“That’s a combination sure to end in disaster.”

“I know that now,” he agrees forlornly. “All I could think about was avenging Ji-Soo and nothing else. In a stupid state of mind, I walked in there wanting to set things right: to find the killer and let her rest in peace.” He runs a hand over his face. “In no world would I be able to take on both Kyung-Jun and Jin-Ha, but I tried anyway. Every word of blame from me on them resulted in matching blows from them on me.”

“What did you say for them to react so violently?”

“It’s funny,” he recounts. “I accused them both of killing Ji-Soo and going by their reactions, I truly thought I had it figured out.” He turns to you, tears in his eyes. “But I knew nothing at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t their fault she died. It was mine. I couldn’t protect her.”

“Yu-Jun, you couldn’t have possibly known what was going to happen,” you reassure, looking at him comfortingly.

“Even so, I could’ve stopped it if I wasn’t so selfish—if I hadn’t put myself before Ji-Soo.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “I was only looking for someone else to blame, when I only had myself to blame.”

“If Kyung-Jun and Jin-Ha knew it was neither of their faults, then why react in that way?”

“Perhaps we could’ve talked it out, but in that moment where three different paths of anger converged, I can’t think of any other outcome except destruction.” Yu-Jun wipes his eyes. “You know, I even filmed their conversation for proof, but between that and scuffling with them, something or someone alerted them of my presence.” His eyebrows furrow together, thinking hard. “I’d like to think that if there wasn’t the fear of another person knowing of it besides me, it could’ve ended differently.”

You snap your head toward him. 

“Who was there with you?”

“That’s the thing,” Yu-Jun replies. “I couldn’t see who it was, but as I laid there, I saw a shadow of a person passing by the entrance before everything went black.”

Your head spins at the possibilities of who it could be, but you stash the information away for now. 

“We discovered clues that pointed to Kyung-Jun and Jin-Ha as the culprits. Is it true?”

Yu-Jun nods. 

“They were merciless in, not sparing me while I was struggling to live, and crushing my soul even as I wanted to die.”

“I think they’ve paid for their sins to the Mafia.”

“A life for a life isn’t fair, and blood for blood doesn’t equate to justice.” He sticks his hand out toward you. “Let’s try our best so that justice can be just again.”

You look down at his outstretched hand before reaching for it, his shake strong and warm.

He is alive.

And so is the truth.

“There are only thirteen of us left.”

“That’s an ominous number.” 

You weren’t one for superstition, but for some reason, it comes to mind more now than ever.

Jung-Won nods, silently agreeing, the weight of the matter she can’t refuse. 

“We must catch a Mafia member tonight by any means? What should we do?”

Yoon-Seo plops herself down into an empty chair, leaning her head atop a table. Her voice comes out muffled as it bounces against the wooden surface, “Even if we were to make it through the night, someone would end up dead by tomorrow anyway. if this is truly the mission of this game, we might be able to get out of here as long as we find the host.”

“Whatever it takes, we have to at least try,” Jung-Won quickly supports Yoon-Seo’s plan.

Jun-Hee turns to them, more serious than you’ve ever seen him. 

“In the worst case scenario that we can’t find the host before the sun goes down, we must identify at least one Mafia. We can’t afford to vote out another Citizen by guessing randomly.”

“If we don’t identify the Mafia, we all be in danger. Losing Civilians must be stopped. We lost two last night in the blind of an eye. Yoon-Seo was right on about the announcement.” 

Even your commend alone doesn’t give Yoon-Seo anything to be proud of, the inkling that the group was so close to being right having slipped through entirely.

“Speaking of,” Jun-Hee begins. “Is Yu-Jun alright?”

“The last time I saw him, he was with Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun. I was barely able to talk to him much,” you fib, somehow unable to tell them all the full truth.

“What did he say?” Yoon-Seo questions, genuinely curious.

“That both Kyung-Jun and Jin-Ha caused damage to his head while he was still conscious.” You grimace at the imagery. “He suspected them of killing Ji-Soo and rather than talking it out, they resorted to murder instead even though neither were guilty. They just didn’t want accusations to be their downfall.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Jung-Won’s sudden comment has you tensing up. You look at her, masking your expression to one of neutrality. 

“No, he was too scarred to relive the details,” you say nonchalantly, as if there was all there was to it. Her eyebrows suddenly raise slightly and you can’t help but ask, “Why? Do you think he’s still hiding something from us?”

“No, no,” she refutes off-handedly but steadily. “I just assumed rather than what we deduced, there would be more to it.”

“So did I,” you add cryptically, but no one catches on.

“Back to the issue of tonight,” Yoon-Seo leads, “there might be more clues than just these scratchy photos.” She looks around before fixating on a locked cabinet against the furthest wall. “Seol-Hwa,” she calls. “Is it okay if I try the key?”

“Of course.” 

You place it lightly in her hand and she makes quick time in inserting it into the lock.

It twists halfway but refuses to open.

As the four of you kick, yank, and push against the cabinet, it still does nothing.

Yoon-Seo gives the key back to you for the time being, no other option to use it in the room.

“I think we have to break it.”

Jun-Hee snaps his fingers in remembrance. 

“There must be some tools in the storage room we can use.”

Yoon-Seo’s eyes brighten momentarily.

“To save time, why don’t you and Seol-Hwa go search there while Jung-Won and I stay back to see if we can find anything else here?”

“Let’s meet by the marble statue in the lobby after an hour,” you suggest, and after confirmation from the girls, the group splits, you and Jun-Hee heading on a path straight to the storage room.

As the door closes behind the two of you, you can still hear Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won rummaging through the contents of the room from the other side, your thoughts once again in a tangled mess.

Is she?

Is she not?

A hand slipping into your own pulls you out of your reverie, and you turn to your side.

“What has you so lost in your mind?” Jun-Hee tugs you in closer by the hand to his side. “Are you thinking of me?”

That draws a smile out of you and he looks pleased at the change of expression on your face.

“No, I’m thinking about someone else.”

He puts his free hand to his chest, mock-offended. 

“I’m hurt.”

You knock your shoulder into his. 

“Maybe your ego’s just a little bruised.”

Jun-Hee squeezes your hand once, titling his head to peer down at you. 

“Whatever it is or whoever it is that’s in that pretty head of yours, I just want to see you smile more, everything aside.”

Gazing up at him, you’re touched by his words, threading your fingers through his.

“Then I’ll think of you always.”

“Is this not Kyung-Jun’s phone?”

You squat down beside Jun-Hee as he throws aside a coil of ropes, the device in hand.

“I think it is,” you reply as you study it in his outstretched palm. “Why is it here of all places?”

Jun-Hee chews on his lip, thinking. “Da-Bum…” he begins, voice low. “He volunteered to give this to Kyung-Jun while I gave Jin-Ha his last night.”

“Do you think…” 

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat as you think back to the start, the possibility not entirely uncalled for.

The death of those who tortured him.

The stab wounds inflicted with the intent of revenge rather than as a by product of the game.

The little changes in his mannerisms, growing more sinister by the day.

“I don’t want to,” Jun-Hee admits, flipping the phone face-up, where the screen is cracked beyond repair. “But, sometimes it’s those we least expect.”

“To wrap my brain around the idea that Da-Bum could be one of them is still hard even now. For someone to turn evil so quickly.”

“If it’s true, he’s been pushed far beyond his limits, and I’m afraid he doesn’t know how to get back.”

You and Jun-Hee sit forlornly for a few silent seconds before you speak up.

“If I—” you hesitate, not quite sure how to go about it.

Jun-Hee wraps an arm around your shoulders, his touch warm. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nod and swallow over the lump in your throat. 

“If I was the Mafia, what would you do?”

“In my eyes, you’re only you. Whether it’s a lie or the truth, it doesn’t matter. You could lie to me a million times over and nothing would change,” he responds with certainty.“I can say this because I know in my heart that you’re not.”

“What if I was?” you press, and his eyebrows furrow together.

“Seol-Hwa, what’s wrong?”

“Hard to believe right?” you question. “That someone you’ve known and trusted for so long might not be who they say they are.”

“You’re worrying me.” Jun-Hee scoots closer in to face you. “Tell me what’s bothering you, hmm?” 

He brushes your hair out of your face, eyes flitting back and forth between your own.

“I’ve had this feeling gnawing at me the night of mass casualty that,” you can barely get the words out, but force yourself to, “Jung-Won is a Mafia member.”

Jun-Hee’s eyes widen in surprise at your admission. 

“What makes you say so?”

You recount every single fractured peek you’ve had the displeasure of glimpsing.

“I don’t think it’s a privilege to know someone so well. If I’m wrong about her, it will hurt to think I suspected one of my closest friends, but if I’m right, it would also hurt to look betrayal in the eyes.”

“I think it’s reasonable for you to have doubts at this point in time since it’s the entire nature of the game to trust no one.”

“That doubt flickers between impossibility and certainty far too often lately.”

“If Jung-Won does end up being a Mafia, what would linger with you more: her telling you lies or her having told you nothing at all?”

“Her having told me nothing at all.” 

Your response is immediate, and so is your guilt.

Because I have also been telling her lies since the start.

If we both left each other in the dark, where then, can light exist?

When you meet in the lobby again, Yoon-Seo is carrying a locked box, one that you were certain even before she could tell you, can be unlocked with your key.

Inside, you find your own school photo and nothing else, sitting at the very bottom of the metal box.

“This is…us,” Yoon-Seo intones quietly.

Your phone pings and you pull it out to show Yoon-Seo, Jun-Hee, and Jung-Won.

[ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ʜᴏsᴛ. ]

With shaky fingers, you click on the envelope and it unfurls.

[ ᴘᴀʀᴋ sᴇ-ᴇᴜɴ. ]

Lights start flashing, like thunder has struck inside, and it causes your group to fall to the floor in pain, a high screeching noise of unproportionate decibels ringing out.

Once it ceases, Yoon-Seo texts the group chat and your remaining classmates trickle in, equal parts fearful and bewildered.

“What’s this?” Mi-Na inquires in shock as you all fill her in. “Is this real?”

“Se-Eun was the Host this entire time.” 

You still couldn’t wrap your brain around it, and neither did you expect the rest to.

“She’s…dead.” The word comes out quietly from Mi-Na’s mouth, almost as if she’s afraid to say it aloud, eyes darting around. “She’s been gone. How can this be?”

“All those stories about there being a ghost were true then,” Yeon-Woo utters. “Can someone who no longer exists meddle with living people?”

“I bet it’s all because of the game too.” Jung-Won pushes you slightly forward. “Whatever it may be, thanks to Seol-Hwa who figured out the Host, our memories have returned.”

“This doesn’t seem right to me,” you say, and the rest look uneasy. “How could our memories disappear and come back?”

“Wait,” Mi-Na calls out. “Seol-Hwa, you said you had seen a ghost before? Was it Park Se-Eun?”

“I can’t tell,” you admit. “All I ever got was glimpses of hands or hair, and that was all distorted.”

“Whatever,” So-Mi cuts in as she steps toward you. “So this is happening because of her right?” She laughs mockingly. “Yah. You were the one who found the picture. Is it possible that you know more but you’re unwilling to disclose it? You and Park Se-Eun were close. We were just her classmates. We had nothing to do with her. Why are we truly here playing this game?”

The rest nod in agreement and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

How could they not let your friend rest in peace?

“If she’s dead, she should stay that way,” Mi-Na states insensitively, and Yoon-Seo, the kindest of the bunch looks like she wants to slap her. “She committed suicide and is now back to haunt us? Why? She chose that ending herself, didn’t she?”

Jung-Won snaps at her, “The rumor says she was killed. Everyone chalked it up to it being her fault so they themselves wouldn’t be blamed.”

“What?”

Yeon-Woo raises his hand hesitantly. 

“I heard that too. That someone pushed her.”

“Isn’t that just a rumor?” Eun-Chan questions.

“You know every lie has some truth behind it,” Yoon-Seo comments.

Da-Bum ignores her, siding with Eun-Chan instead. 

“The police confirmed it though.”

So-Mi rolls her eyes. 

“What does that have to do with this? Get yourself together and focus on the game.”

“Why do you think she started this then?” you press. “If she didn’t commit suicide like the rumors said…” you pause, “then she was trying to tell us that she died because of one of us.”

Without prompt, everyone sneaks glances at So-Mi.

“What are you all looking at? How does that make sense?”

Yeon-Woo scratches his head, moving the subject to less heated territory.

“What could it be? Maybe it has something to do with the Mafia.” He suddenly backhands Eun-Chan in the chest in haste. “Who were they again?”

“As of now, Woo-Ram, Ju-Won, and Ye-Won. The rest are still unknown.”

“What if it was Park Woo-Ram?” Mi-Na suggests. “He killed Joo-Young so heartlessly. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say he held a grudge against Se-Eun for similar reasons and did the same.”

“But what could’ve even happened between them for it to get to that point?”

“It’s not like we could know,” So-Mi blocks. “He flirted with everything that could walk and breathe. Maybe she rejected his advancements like Joo-Young and the rest is history.”

“Then, is this all just because of Park Woo-Ram? That we have to die for his faults?”

“No, but if Woo-Ram really did cause Se-Eun’s death,” Da-Bum reasons, “What about the other Mafias then? What did they do?”

Here, Jun-Hee presents to the group what the two of you found earlier. 

“This is Kyung-Jun’s phone. Seol-Hwa and I found it in the storage room. I thought you all needed to see it too.”

Yoon-Seo steps closer to inspect it, confused. 

“How did it end up there if he was killed in the room he stayed in?”

Jun-Hee fixes his eyes on Da-Bum. 

“I went to see Jin-Ha while Da-Bum went to Kyung-Jun.”

Yoon-Seo taps Jung-Won’s forearm, suddenly reminded. 

“When we were looking at his room’s door again, we found that it was slammed with a chair. There were markings with chipped wood.”

“We also found a metal chair all dented stashed away in an opening between the hallways,” Jung-Won informs the group. “It’s weird. Jin-Ha and Kyung-Jun were suspected of killing Seung-Bin and they both ended up dying. What if the Mafia planned to kill both from the start? We fell for it too.”

At this, Yoon-Seo suddenly turns to Da-Bum. 

“Did you happen to go to the storage room on the second floor last night?”

Da-Bum’s eyes waver the tiniest bit, but with how good you are at noticing the little details, it strikes you as odd.

“No, why?” he denies far too brashly.

“You were the last person who saw Kyung-Jun yesterday,” Jun-Hee corners. “No one else did.” He changes his tone to a lighter one, and you knew he was trying to play into Da-Bum’s favor, to see if he would reveal anything. “We’re just wondering if there’s anything you know that could help us figure this out.”

“That’s true,” he admits, “but I didn’t go and see him alone. So-Mi and Mi-Na came with.”

The girls glare daggers at him and you think back on your conversation with Kyung-Jun, about how adamant he was that you never went and touch the ring of keys, or should you ever take it out and alert anyone.

Did he want to do that so the Mafias would rat themselves out?

Or perhaps…was it to protect you?

“But if we agreed on letting him sit it out until voting, then what was so important for all three of you to go see him for?” Jun-Hee points out.

“So it really was that!” Eun-Chan shoves Mi-Na’s shoulders all of a sudden. “I knew it!”

“What’s going on?”

Eun-Chan turns to you, finally looking like he trusts you more than he has. 

“They have Kyung-Jun’s keys!”

Eun-Ha nods, pulling Eun-Chan back away from Mi-Na and toward Yeon-Woo.

There’s a group of three now, entirely divided.

“What he says is true,” Eun-Ha confirms. “We saw them in the cafeteria earlier and they were skittish, so we pressed them for answers but they skirted around the truth.”

“And now we know why,” Yeon-Woo adds in for emphasis.

Mi-Na and So-Mi look at one another before the latter once again, launches into her usual tirade.

“I swear it’s all a misunderstanding. I already explained everything yesterday.”

“Tell us what really went down,” Jun-Hee directs. “Everyone here knows Kyung-Jun is the last person who would give you something to his advantage for nothing.”

You bite your tongue as you look down, glancing at your skirt pocket with the key in it, and when you glance up again, Hyun-Ho is giving you a look like he knows.

You turn away.

“I saw him hiding them behind the indoor fire hydrant. That’s all.”

Mi-Na nods in support of her statement, but no one seems convinced.

“Why did you feel the need to hide it then instead of sharing it with everyone?” Eun-Ha stresses. “You must’ve had ulterior motives to keeping something so beneficial.”

“Looking back on it,” Eun-Chan starts. “You never did get along with Se-Eun, did you, So-Mi?”

“What are you on about again?”

“Your friend group treated her the worst of all.”

“When did we?” Mi-Na responds defensively.

“Stop kidding yourselves,” Yeon-Woo admonishes. “Everyone in the whole school was aware of how much gossip you spread. Eun-Ha always told me that she overheard you guys. It was everyday on end.”

“What kind of nonsense are you sprouting?” 

By the minute, Mi-Na is getting more frustrated, her chin quivering from anger.

Eun-Chan spits out in disgust, “The more I think about it, the stranger it gets. Are you the Mafias?”

So-Mi steps in to do damage control, shifting the focus to something else. “I can prove that I’m not the Mafia.” She looks around, eyes crazed as she studies each and every one of you. “I know who started the rumor about Se-Eun’s inappropriate video.”

“Who?”

[ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ ʜᴀs ᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴀʜɴ ɴᴀ-ʜᴇᴇ. ]

“What are you doing?” Na-Hee says exasperatedly.

“What else but telling the truth?” So-Mi sidesteps her to position herself where everyone can see her well. “She said Woo-Ram showed her the video. I should’ve stopped them even when Na-Hee was the one who spread the rumor.”

Eun-Chan turns to look at Na-Hee in disbelief. 

“Did you?”

“Yes, she did,” Mi-Na hurries to add in, speaking out of turn.

Na-Hee shoves both So-Mi and Mi-Na away from her, angry at their betrayal. “When did I? So-Mi made it.” She turns to the person in question, angry tears falling as she clings onto her arm. “Why are you framing me?!”

So-Mi brushes her off and yanks her arms away. “Gosh will you stop it already? For goodness’ sake!” Her strength sends Na-Ha tumbling to the floor and Hyun-Ho quickly helps her back to her feet. “Do we all have to die because of you?”

Na-Hee steadies herself as Hyun-Ho stands behind her for support, the flint in her eyes now having hardened.

Gone is the girl who always was taken advantage of.

“Not everyone,” Na-Hee says as she takes out her phone. “Just you.”

So-Mi raises her eyebrows condescendingly. 

“You’re over-confident, even for a Mafia member.”

“Can you guarantee your words won’t come back to bite you? Will you take responsibility for the consequences?”

So-Mi chuckles darkly.

“It’s not me but you that should be taking responsibility.”

“If that’s what you want so badly, then I will. After all, I’ve always listened to you, haven’t I?” Na-Hee sends a hauntingly saccharine smile and you see So-Mi’s triumphant smirk falter. “The truth will always be revealed.”

“Go ahead if you can.”

“Since you’ve given me permission…” Na-Hee’s phone screen lights up, the glow casting her face in a white haze. “As the Police, I take back your right to remain silent.”

The game graphics pop up, So-Mi’s photo enlarged.

“Even when things have reached this point, you’re still lying?!” So-Mi screeches.

“No one‘s told a bigger lie than you.”

[ ᴋɪᴍ sᴏ-ᴍɪ ɪs ᴀ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ]

“Take responsibility for what you just said with your life just as you took those of the other’s.”

This game, you’ve come to realize, is meant to show that although life is short, the road to betrayal is long, and it always remains open.

𝟬𝟵 : 𝗔𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗦’ 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗟 | 𝟭𝟭 : 𝗔 𝗙𝗢𝗢𝗟’𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗢𝗟

As you fully entered, stepping across the threshold, your gaze was drawn to the two people you trusted the most.

Jun-Hee and Yoon-Seo both look up at the same time from where they were seated atop the empty desks in silence, their eyes softening with the weight of unspoken apologies.

Jung-Won and Da-Bum were no where in sight, having disappeared to somewhere only they knew, and you tired of continuously questioning it, feeling as though you'd never get the complete answer anyhow.

Maybe it's hypocritical of you to be skeptical of their less than full trust in you when you also can't reciprocate it.

The two present look at one another before turning to you, matching hesitant looks on their faces.

For the first time in a long time, the silence that stretches between you all is thick, but you feel it breaking as Yoon-Seo rises first, walking toward you with tentative steps before stopping, quietly spreading her arms wide open.

Yoon-Seo had always deeply been the kind, sensitive, and emotional one—the one who wore her heart on her sleeve, forever ready to comfort.

"I apologize, Seol-Hwa," Yoon-Seo says softly, voice cracking a little. "I know how it seems, but we didn't mean to make you feel like that: unseen and hurt. We were just... scared."

Before she can continue to apologize for something by no fault of her own, you meet her halfway and wrap your arms around her, enveloping her in the warmest hug possible.

You can feel Yoon-Seo's cheeks bunch up where its pressed into the side of your face and as she breathes out a sigh of relief, you know your friendship can easily pick up where it left off, no hesitation or doubts.

Smiling softly, you close your eyes as you let herself sink into the hug, absorbing the warmth. "I can't say that I don't bear any of the blame," you respond. "I just... I just harbor the hope that receiving trust would be easier than giving it, you know?"

Yoon-Seo pulls back slightly, hands still on your shoulders, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Though I may not be able to speak for everyone, but at least for myself, I trust you more than you could know. I promise."

There's no pause for you to answer as you feel another presence—one that makes Yoon-Seo give way—sensing Jun-Hee standing just a little too still, his expression unreadable, but there was an unmistakable intensity in his gaze.

He was quiet by nature—the one who kept his emotions buried deep—but when it came to you, his heart had always been laid bare in subtle ways.

Wordlessly, Jun-Hee surges forward, drawing you into his chest gently but with an undeniable sense of urgency, like he had been waiting to do so right as you walked away.

With the height difference between the two of you, your face is barely able to reach over his shoulder and you have to go on tiptoes for your chin to rest comfortably. One of his hands goes to the back of your head, cradling it, while the other winds around your waist, pulling you ever closer.

It takes you back to the conversation you both had the first night arriving and your heart hurts to go back to when things weren't so dire and your biggest challenge was keeping your feelings hidden, a now distant memory you took for granted.

The hug was different from Yoon-Seo's—slower, tighter, and there was something in the way he held you with the weight of unspoken words, something just beneath the surface that made your chest tighten. A soft tension hangs delicately, neither of you in any rush to let go.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"For every mistaken meaning." You can hear his exhale by your ear. "Just—if I offended you in any way, know that that wasn't my intent. I don't want you to think I don't trust you. It's the opposite actually—I care too much."

"The one thing I could never question is that." You pat his back soothingly. "In hindsight, I had overreacted. I was upset more with myself than anyone else, for if I can barely convince me, then how can I convince you all?"

"For those who don't believe in you, I'll return it on their behalf twice as much."

When Jun-Hee finally pulls away far enough for you to gaze up at him, his hand lingers for a moment on your arm, almost as though he has more to say but is holding back.

Yoon-Seo, who had been watching the two of you, amused, with her arms crossed in front of her, lets out a small, knowing laugh.

She pretends to fiddle with the camcorder strap around her neck and trying, but failing, to look anywhere but at you and Jun-Hee, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "I think I was outdone. Should I redo my asking for forgiveness?" She looks between the two of you mischievously, teasing, "I fear this way of embracing to apologize only works for Jun-Hee and him alone."

You roll your eyes before grinning so wide at Yoon-Seo that she becomes genuinely worried. "No, that's not true." Before she can react, you throw your arms around her neck and squeeze the life out of her.

She swats at your back repetitively as Jun-Hee chuckles in the background, all tension easing. "Seol. Hwa. Have. Mercy." You release her soon enough after a few more shakes, leaving her in a coughing fit, although it quickly dissolves into giggles soon after. "How could you do this to someone with weakened airways?"

"Guess you can say I take your breath away, huh?"

Yoon-Seo simply swivels you around so you're face to face with Jun-Hee. "You're saying it to the wrong person," she sing-songs.

The instant blushes that appear on yours and Jun-Hee's faces has her chortling to no end, enjoying it way too much all together.

You shake your head good-naturedly, taking a seat in one of the many chairs lining the room. "Have you guys found any more clues while I was gone?"

"No, nothing has happened yet—" Yoon-Seo begins, but her words die out as the intercom comes to life.

[ ᴄʜᴀ ʏᴜ-ᴊᴜɴ ʜᴀs ᴅɪᴇᴅ. ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs, ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ. ]

Your heart plummets despite your resolute attempt in saving him after the unsettling feeling that pervaded you following your conversation.

You could only hope that what you had done would be enough.

It has to be enough.

The three of you don't even have the chance to look at one another before high-tailing it out of the room to dash toward the basement, following behind the crowd of your other classmates also doing the same.

Once you arrive at the scene, it's the most gruesome death to date.

It doesn't help that you're all clustered around him looking on like you're observing a spectacle—something non-sentient. The thought of every single classmate who had ended up in the same inhumane manner makes you sick to your stomach.

"Yu-Jun..." Jun-Hee utters beside you in shock. "Why did it have to be him?"

"He didn't break any rules so why is this the price he has to pay merely for falling?" Yeon-Woo's voice cracks in the background.

"That's because he didn't fall," you reveal quietly. "Someone killed him."

Gasps and muted murmurs come out all around you, everyone merely perceiving what they see as what the truth is.

"How can you be so sure?"

"There's endless evidence of struggle, especially with those wounds on his head." Scanning his now lifeless body, you state monotonously, "He was attacked from the front. If he had fallen, it wouldn't have come to this." You take a few steps back, the smell of blood wafting up suddenly too much to suppress. "This was an intentional attack."

"One more thing we should keep in mind though," Yoon-Seo points out as she scrolls through her phone, looking intently at it, "his identity hasn't been revealed. That means he'll be resurrected tomorrow morning, just as Jun-Hee had."

Yeon-Woo and Eun-Chan start discussing with one another before speaking loudly to the group at large.

"So is Yu-Jun not the Doctor then?" Yeon-Woo looks around at the somber faces. "He could've prevented his own death."

Eun-Chan slaps his friend upside the head.

"Ouch!"

"Please focus. We can neither confirm if he is or isn't. For all we know, he could've saved himself or a Doctor saved him."

"That doesn't help with anything! You're basically saying he could be but might also not be!"

Yeon-Woo scowls at Eun-Chan.

"We should cover him up for the time being and move him somewhere he can rest," you suggest, and Jun-Hee proceeds to place the sheet he was holding over Yu-Jun forlornly.

Red streaks bleed across the fabric, staining the pristine white, ever-enlarging blooms of suffering, and you have to glance away, wondering when the bloodshed will cease to taint what's pure.

"Hyun-Ho and I can take him to a safe place where he can await the coming of morning, don't worry." Dong-Hyun pats you on the shoulder as your cousin nods in agreement, the duo unanimously taking on postmortem responsibilities.

As everyone leaves, you, Jun-Hee, Yoon-Seo, and Jung-Won stay behind to scout the site for more clues.

"This must be the Mafia's doing," Jung-Won declares off-handedly, hand on her hip.

You take a cursory peek at her and maybe it's just in your eyes, but she doesn't seem too stricken about it compared to Yoon-Seo who's completely devastated, the light in her eyes dimmed.

"Mafia or not, that doesn't make this right," Yoon-Seo stresses. "Killing in broad daylight and to this extent...is pure evil."

Jung-Won looks on in distaste as Yoon-Seo once again pulls up the camera on her phone. "What will you do then? They've already taken it this far, maybe it's a lost cause. Maybe we have to accept that not everything can be reversed."

You tune out her increasingly heartless comments and walk around absentmindedly, searching from corner to corner. Jun-Hee follows silently behind, crouching down by a stack of cinder blocks hidden from immediate view.

"Of course I should find out who did it," Yoon-Seo responds, a bit frustrated, no intent to let the conversation end in futility. "I need to figure out the reason Yu-Jun came down here."

"Find anything?" you ask Jun-Hee, who's digging through the heavy wedges.

At his shake of the head, you pivot around, and there by your feet, lo and behold, is a bloody footprint. "Yoon-Seo!"

Hearing you call, the girls head your way to inspect, Yoon-Seo immediately capturing the new find. A few feet away, she picks up a piece of what appears to be part of a shoe sole.

Jun-Hee silently brings over a singular cinder mass, flipping it to reveal blood staining the sharpest corner.

Your chest constricts at the thought of what used to be done under the veil of night is now so easily outright under the light of day.

The scent of death follows you around, allowing no time for reprieve.

You wonder if you'll ever escape from its grasp.

The black ghostly fingers come to the forefront of your mind, sharp nails digging deep to puncture your lungs, stealing your breath.

You know that only when you run out of air will this struggle cease to exist.

Not until hours later do you manage to locate Hyun-Ho, oddly without the company of Dong-Hyun this time around.

It's still eerie to see Yu-Jun's body in the corner of the space. Although the cover is there, it can't quite mask what you knew to be underneath.

Hyun-Ho sits by the edge of the pool, his feet dangling just above the surface of the water with his jeans rolled up to his calves, sneakers abandoned beside him.

He was staring into the rippling surface, but evidently wasn't really seeing anything. His face was drawn, eyes half-lidded as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

Out of the two of you, he tended to be more detached, but today, there was something in his posture, in the slump of his shoulders, that told you he wasn't as unaffected as he seemed.

His silhouette is lonely against the even lonelier stillness of the room.

He startles when you sit down beside him.

"Seol-Hwa!" Hyun-Ho looks at you, surprised. "Were you looking for me?"

It wasn't an unfamiliar happening: you both used to spend hours as children, talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing, basking in one another's company as you sought out the other for trivial matters.

But now, the two of you have grown up.

All those worries of the past suddenly seem so minuscule, so insignificant.

And yet, you find yourself clinging to it, knowing you'd give everything up to be that carefree again—to be as unassuming, as innocent, and as naïve as you were then, carrying a heart unweighted by burdens.

"Actually, yes," you admit. "It was hard to find you." You gesture around. "The pool is the last place I would think for any of us to be, you know, after—" The words struggle to leave your throat.

"—After that night," Hyun-Ho finishes for you. At your nod, he continues on, "That's exactly why Dong-Hyun decided on here. No one would come back, ghost or no ghost, and neither would you."

You turn to look at him abruptly, tilting your head in confusion. "Me?"

Hyun-Ho clucks his tongue at you with narrowed eyes. "You're not as smart as you look."

You make to leave, getting back up on your feet. "Good talk—I'm leaving now."

He laughs and pats the tiles beside him, the sound dulled by the water wetting the floor. "I wasn't done." Begrudgingly, you take a seat again. "Of course we want to protect everyone if we can, but since we all know that's impossible, then you come first."

Your heart stutters at the sincerity and you're touched by the care for you. "We've talked about this," you intone. "Please don't go out of your way for me. Whatever happens will happen. It's the normal course of things."

Hyun-Ho fixes you with a serious look, the first in all the years you've known him. "This isn't normal."

That statement alone hurts more than it should.

"You know we can't go back," you say quietly as you look into the ebbing water of the pool. "We have to live with this reality, no matter how abnormal it is."

"Is this reality though?"

You close your eyes and exhale slowly. "Both my heart and mind say no, but the images refuse to stop replaying in my eyes. How can we forget everything as if it's an illusion? The pain is real and it's visceral."

"Are you okay?" Hyun-Ho asks you barely above a whisper, so quiet you almost miss it.

The silence stretches long as you think, pondering deeply on such a simple question.

But is it ever simple to answer?

"Yes."

One lie.

"Are you acting as if you're okay?"

Beside you, your cousin shifts lightly, fingers gripping the cold-edged tiles. He could see it—the tension in your shoulders, the quiet tremor in your breath. Hyun-Ho has known you since birth—has practically grown up beside you. He could read you like a book, and right now, the page you were on was torn and frayed.

"Yes."

One truth.

Hyun-Ho nods, more to himself than you, and you see the movement from your peripheral vision. "Thank you."

"What ever for?"

"Being honest with me. It makes me happy you trust me enough to not have to pretend around me."

You turn to look at him as lays back on the cold tiles, staring absently at the ceiling.

"I—I haven't been completely honest with you."

He doesn't look disappointed by it, rather, he looked curious. "I can sense what you're worried about from a mile away, but don't worry, I'm not mad—I could never be mad at you. You must have your reasons if it's something you can't tell me, and in any case, your silence has always been for the right reasons."

"I'm a Doctor."

At this, he turns his head toward you, attempting to hide his shock from the revelation. He opens his mouth and closes it again, unable to find the words to say.

Ultimately, he sits up again, angling his body toward yours. His eyes are downcast, understanding the weight of your identity. "How hard this must've been for you this entire time..."

You start tearing up, hating that you love the responsibility. "I don't know if I'm a good one. You're the only one I've told—I can't risk the others knowing. I'm—I'm scared."

"Of what?" Hyun-Ho pries softly.

"That I'll let more than one person down." You wipe at your eyes, teardrops wetting the the back of your hand. "That I'll have to sacrifice one person I love for another. All I want is to save everyone."

Hyun-Ho scoots closer and grabs your hands in his, squeezing them. He doesn't respond immediately, instead watching you a gaze that's soft but steady, before finally speaking in a low, measured tone, voice grounding you, "What you feel, I can only imagine the half of it—if even that—but you have to understand that in our world—our real one —even doctors cannot save everyone, no matter how much they would like to. It's impossible to change someone's fate, especially if it's destined. There are many things that humans should be responsible for, but drawing extensions for one another's lifeline isn't one of them."

You smile sadly through the tears, water distorting your field of vision, so much so that the reflection of images become hazy in your pupils. "Yet here we are, both trying to protect the other, like our lives depend on it. What are we doing?"

Hyun-Ho returns your grin with one of his own, but it's tinged with melancholy. Gone is his usual joking nature and you find that happiness has died off long ago, gone with the wind.

"Trying our best."

Eventually, Dong-Hyun joins you and Hyun-Ho, the three of you making way toward the annex, tracking the sounds of a heated discussion.

When Eun-Ha spots you, she motions for you to come nearer, her movement causing Eun-Chan to turn his attention to your trio.

"Guys, over here. Right now."

"What's going on?"

Eun-Ha gestures to the wall. Where once there were words written in burnt orange, it's now replaced by red scribbles, entirely different statements.

From the Police: Jin-Ha is part of the Mafia, and so is Da-Bum.

Jun-Hee, Yoon-Seo, Jung-Won, and Da-Bum make their entrance shortly thereafter, moving over to your side of the crowd, catching up to the pressing issue.

Da-Bum simultaneously shakes his head and hands fervently. "I swear on my life I'm a Citizen."

Yeon-Woo pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, fixing Da-Bum with a long stare.

"Are you sure you're not part of the Mafia team? Anyone can swear on their life, whether they're lying or telling the truth. It doesn't make it any more indicative."

"It really isn't me," Da-Bum emphasizes. "What if it's not the Police who wrote this?"

"But if you think about it," Eun-Chan reasons, "the Police used their skill twice. To pinpoint two people makes perfect sense. It checks out."

Na-Hee scoots closer to the front, eyeing the words. "Earlier it said Jun-Hee was a Citizen though. Why did it change now?”

"Just like Da-Bum, it's not me either."

Jin-Ha scoffs from the other side. "Don't fucking lie. I bet the police wrote this because the last one was false."

Mi-Na readily agrees, and you start to dislike her more and more with each passing day, for possessing a character of being too easily swayed and never having any morals, no less different than So-Mi.

"If it was really the Police, they would name the Mafia. Why single out Citizens and make them easy targets to be eliminated?"

"Jin-Ha's not right and neither are you." You point between the two of them. "This one is more likely than not fabricated if you think with your brain rather than your bias." They both take offense but you barrel on. "Do you not see how weird it is that this appeared immediately after Yu-Jun's passing? The one who murdered him could've written this to frame others and take the pressure off of themselves. Moreover, those least to have suspicion thrown on them like Jun-Hee and Da-Bum, are expendable to the real culprit as a cover up in order to shift attention away from the crime they committed."

At that, Jin-Ha flinches, and you slide your eyes over to his subtle fidgeting, pupils shaking. When he catches your eye by accident, he outbursts, "What the fuck are you looking at?"

"Why are you so jumpy and defensive?" you press. "Don't tell me you were the one who left this message."

He struggles to refute and all eyes turn to him in waves.

Before it can escalate, So-Mi crosses her arms and shifts the matter back to you. "It's kind of funny how you guys are always late getting to these things. Did you have prior engagements to take care of?"

"You never get smarter, do you?" Jung-Won tsks at her, So-Mi sending icy glares in subdued retaliation. "It would be stupid for Seol-Hwa to speak up if she actually did it. Those who talk a lot or are always on the defensive are most likely to be the Mafia," she concludes, looking from So-Mi to Jin- Ha in succession.

"Be careful So-Mi." Eun-Ha smirks at her. "What you don't see with your eyes for certain, don't witness it with your mouth." She waves around in the air passingly as though her next words mean nothing when in fact, they mean everything. "There's an age-old saying that the more lies you spread, the more blood will spew from your mouth."

If it's not for Kyung-Jun stepping to the front, the girls would've gotten into a fight, no concern for concession. He saunters closer to the wall and rips the thumbtacked paper to shreds. "Quit this crap and show yourself, Police. Hand over your phones and let us see the kind of skill you have."

Yoon-Seo addresses him in exasperation, "Why bother when you know no one will admit to it?" She holds her phone up to his face, a picture of the bloody footprint from the crime scene on display. "We have enough clues to catch the killer."

She leads the way straight to the cafeteria where Seung-Bin's body laid only a day ago.

"Why did you bring us here just to tell us who did it?" So-Mi adds her two cents.

"In the warehouse," Yoon-Seo begins while ignoring So-Mi, "I found a footprint." She pulls out the rubber sole from her skirt pocket, presenting it to the group along with a shot of the basement's floor. "This was next to it, a piece which we can assume is from the shoe of Yu-Jun’s killer."

You squat down by the exact spot left untouched in the middle of the cafeteria, a twin imprint like that in the warehouse still visible. Pointing it to it, you add on, "This matches the one we discovered." Dragging your finger toward the incomplete imprint of the sole on the floor, you connect the dots clearly. "We found it weird there was a gap in this one, but with the piece in Yoon-Seo's possession, it explains everything."

Yoon-Seo transfers the rubber piece into Jun-Hee's awaiting hand and he peers around at everyone gathered. "This is a feature a lot of basketball shoes have."

"Basketball..." Yeon-Woo lets the word hang, gears spinning in his mind.

Yoon-Seo approaches Kyung-Jun and Jin- Ha, the only two out who enjoyed the sport with shoes to match. "Is this either of yours?"

"Why would you say that, you witch?" Jin- Ha curses at her in response.

"Then you should have no problem showing us your shoes."

Kyung-Jun rolls his eyes, although you can tell both him and Jin-Ha were hiding their fretting and nerves.

"Of course I have no problem with it." He lifts one foot up toward you, then the other. "Look as many times as you want. It won't be me."

You shift your eyes from one foot to the other, noticing both heels were intact. Looking up at Yoon-Seo and Jun-Hee, you shake your head.

"It's not him."

"I told you."

Kyung-Jun shoves his hands in his pockets and you can see him trying to hide the hint of a victorious smile.

Your eyebrows furrow in deep thought, knowing that he couldn't be a Mafia member no matter how suspicious the situation is, for me pushed hard for Woo-Ram's elimination. Mafia members wouldn't purposely kill off their own teammate as that would put them at a disadvantage going by the majority rule.

He backs away slightly as you study his behavior, leaving the spotlight on Jin-Ha.

"Just because it's not Kyung-Jun, why do you automatically suspect me?"

"Do the same as him then," Mi-Na taunts. "It's your turn to prove your innocence."

"Screw you all!" he shouts, but exhibits no indication of relenting.

"Guess we have to do it the hard way," Eun-Chan states before enlisting the help of Da- Bum to lift Jin-Ha up effortlessly, each holding a leg still, feet tilted forward.

"Will you put me down already?!"

Despite his screams of protest, Jun-Hee presses the piece against his sole, the lone part slotting in perfectly.

Eun-Chan and Da-Bum quickly drop him to the floor on his back after the confirmation, leaving Jin-Ha fuming and fumbling.

From your spot, his hand is in your direct line of sight. "Your hand," you voice out, drawing everyone's attention to it. "Who bit you?" Jin-Ha reflexively tries to hide it with his other hand but it's too late. The row of teeth marks marring the surface, having broken skin, has already been noticed by everyone. You scoff in disbelief, a sound of disgust leaving you on the exhale. "So it really was you. Why? How could you?" you ridicule angrily.

"It wasn't my fault!"

"We've already reached this point. What's the use of denying?!" Yoon-Seo raises her voice for the first time ever. "No excuses will dismiss the facts."

"Do you want another fact then?!" Jin-Ha's eyes are crazed as they fix on his leader. "He played the biggest part in it!"

Kyung-Jun rounds on him, spewing words so fast he nearly spits on him. "What are you saying, you bastard? The shoe and brick clearly single you out!"

"How could you possibly know that?" you inquire barely above a whisper, throat constricting tighter by the second at the cruelty of the two.

The tone of your voice draws Kyung-Jun's attention, his eyes pleading with you for the guiltlessness he doesn't possess.

"We never mentioned the weapon." Yoon-Seo's voice takes on a tone of disappointment but not one of shock.

"What...?"

"Jin-Ha was with someone else when it happened." She scrolls through another picture of a slightly larger footprint. "There was one with the heel intact. You can't tell me this isn't yours, can you?"

Kyung-Jun stays silent and it's a confirmation as any.

Jin-Ha gets on his knees, nearly begging the group. "You have to believe me! Kyung-Jun killed Seung-Bin and then went on to do the same to Yu-Jun to rid of witnesses."

"You fucking lunatic!" Kyung-Jun shouts, going straight for Jin-Ha's throat.

"Stop it!" Yeon-Woo, being the closest one to them, tries to pull them apart but is sorely unsuccessful in every attempt made.

"Get your hands off me, you fat pig!"

Jun-Hee joins in the fray to help, barely managing to drag Kyung-Jun back, but the taller one is stronger, sending a punch right to the former's mouth. Without wasting a single second, he dashes forward and kicks Jin-Ha without remorse before anyone can proceed to stop him.

"Cut it out!" Eun-Chan, Yeon-Woo, and even Da-Bum's combined strength fails in comparison as Kyung-Jun overpowers them, much to their disdain.

Not one to give up, Jun-Hee jumps on his back as he's facing away, resulting in Kyung-Jun flipping him off, resorting to shove him against the row of adjacent metal lockers, sending him sprawling.

You rush toward him as he groans in pain, holding his back and struggling to sit up from the impact.

"That's enough!" Hyun-Ho shouts and tackles Kyung-Jun to the floor, punching his face in repeatedly.

Even then, Kyung-Jun's anger continues to mount, attempting to fight regardless of his disadvantaged position pinned to the floor.

"Yah, yah, yah!" Yeon-Woo warns, seeing neither of the two relenting.

If they didn't stop, both would wind up dead at the hands of the other. As a last ditch effort, Yeon-Woo throws his entire body weight atop Kyung-Jun as Dong-Hyun and Eun-Chan forcibly drag a still-swinging Hyun-Ho away.

Only when the tension gradually simmers down does Yeon-Woo slowly remove himself, leaving a disheveled and bruised Kyung-Jun on the floor next to an equally as beaten up Jin-Ha.

In the midst of the melee, a marker comes rolling by to your feet and you pick it up. It doesn't escape Kyung-Jun's eye, and he trails its path straight back to Jin-Ha.

He suddenly laughs, the sound mocking and all-knowing. "Would you look at that? You were the one who changed the writings and you still refuse to be labeled as a Mafia?"

Jin-Ha continues his imploring to be spared despite all the odds stacked against him. "No! I didn't write that sign!" As more than a few turn their heads away from him, he crawls toward them pathetically, groveling. "I really don't know what's going on!"

"Don't play the victim now, scumbag." Kyung-Jun turns to address the rest. Vote him out." As Jin-Ha, crazed in his appeal to each and every classmate individually, Kyung-Jun continues to back him into a corner, their friendship now broken beyond repair. "How pitiful. Let's eliminate him and put him out of his misery. Why go through unnecessary trouble when the Mafia has already presented himself to us?"

Jun-Hee staggers to get up and you help him to his feet as he leans on you for support. "You can't be one to talk when you also killed Yu-Jun!" He steps in between them and decides with resolution, "We'll put you two in separate rooms until voting time."

Dong-Hyun pulls Jin-Ha up as Hyun-Ho apprehends Kyung-Jun and the rest trail behind in silence as the two culprits are lead to the dorms.

Jin-Ha obediently ambles into his room without further defenses or propositions, a stark contrast to the other suspect at hand.

"This is a fucking prison cell." Kyung-Jun leans against the door jamb, phone in hand. He pivots on his heel, heading into confinement, but before he can slam the door shut in a display of anger, Mi-Na sticks a foot in to keep it from closing.

"What now?"

"Hand over the keys."

"Why?"

Mi-Na looks at him pointedly. "Isn't it obvious? What if you get out? We can't trust you to not go on a killing spree."

So-Mi sidles up next to her.

"The cafeteria belongs to all of us now, so give it up."

She holds out her hand but Kyung-Jun swats it away.

"They're gone. I lost them."

"Bullshit," So-Mi calls.

"I said I don't have them!" he grits through his teeth in her face as she pesters on. "Quit your yapping unless you want to do a full body search? Be my guest, but that means you can be subjected to the same if you're being doubted."

Irritated and embarrassed, So-Mi exits with a huff, Mi-Na tagging along behind her.

No longer seeing imminent trouble, the rest trickle out, leaving your friend group in the middle of the hallway.

"If not the keys, then give me your phone for now. I'll keep it as collateral," Jung-Won demands. "You can't go anywhere or do anything without it. This is the least you can do to make us trust you even as a murderer."

Without waiting for his response or consent, Da-Bum yanks the device out of Kyung- Jun's grip and it throws you for a loop, even more shocked than Kyung-Jun himself.

"You've grown up quite a lot, haven't you, Da-Bum?" Kyung-Jun sizes him up, patting his cheek condescendingly.

Ignoring him, Da-Bum passes the phone to Jun-Hee standing against the opposite wall.

Jin-Ha peeks his head out from his room, wanting to get one last word in. "It may seem like it, but I really am not the Mafia. I may have lied about other things, but in this, I'm telling the truth."

Opposing him, Kyung-Jun also states his position. "Even one citizen must be saved for every citizen to live."

The door swings shut on both sides.

With the two locked up, your remaining friends disperse to their own respective rooms, leaving only you and Jun-Hee behind.

"I need to collect Jin-Ha's phone too. Will you be alright out here alone guarding Kyung-Jun's door just until I'm done?"

"I'll be fine."

Assured, he steps into Jin-Ha's chamber and you're by yourself, back against the wall next to Kyung-Jun's room, wanting more than anything to sink to the ground in weariness.

Only a few minutes have passed before the door creaks open and you turn toward the source, finding Kyung-Jun with one hand on the inner doorknob, shoulder leaning against the door.

He stares at you and you're not entirely sure what the space between one breath and the next—between indecision and certainty truly meant.

Kyung-Jun glances around briefly before stepping even closer to you and reaching for your hand.

Uncurling your fingers, he drops a small metal key into your palm, closing your digits once again around them.

His hand engulfs yours, grasp lingering nearly imperceptibly, almost as though wanting to prolong the one chance he can't otherwise have.

"The rest I have hidden behind the metal door that holds the emergency hose." He points to what's in your hold. "This is the one key that matters out of the whole ring." You can tell he isn't lying this time around. "It's the only one that locks the rooftop storage room from the inside, so no Mafia members will be able to get to you, no matter what they do."

You try and fail to wrap your head around the unexpected exchange. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Repayment."

"You don't owe me anything..."

"For the trust you put in me that I broke."

The night of him being pitted against Woo-Ram is still too soon to disappear from your memory, the double betrayal cutting far too deep to forget.

"You know it's not something that can be so easily fixed, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Then, why are you still trying?"

"I want to pretend that my life isn't an entire sequence of bad choices."

"To give me this—" you look down at the key in your palm, "—isn't this another wrong decision?"

"No."

"Why would you give up something so important?"

"I've given up something more important than this. This is far from my kryptonite."

"Then what is it? Your weakness."

"You—"

A long pause.

"—will never find it."

𝟬𝟴 : 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘, 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘, 𝗪𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘 | 𝟭𝟬 : 𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗙 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 , 𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗙 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥

You let your gaze drift to another droplet beside the previous. This one, however, moved at leisure. It was slower, like it could afford all the time in the world to figure about where it was going, and you wonder if it would join with one of the other drops or keep going, continuing forward at its own pace, all alone.

Pressing your fingertip to the cold surface, you draw along with the trail that the raindrop streaks, following its non-linear descent as it winds its way downward, seemingly struggling against gravity.

The drop splits into two at a particular curve and you ponder at the ease of separation.

Finger hovering, you lean forward, trying to decide which of the two to follow as they slither in opposite directions.

On the left, it is longer, winding and hesitant. The right one was a quick drop, straight and definite. Blinking, you feel a strange pull to the left, toward what is less clear.

Subconsciously, the leftmost one lingers in your mind, and in that inadvertent choice, it winds up reaching the end of the glass paneling first.

The rain only seemed to grow heavier, tapping a staccato rhythm, the sound somehow both soft and insistent, like the murmur of a secret.

With your forehead against the cool glass, you stare at the droplets as they gather and scatter, running into one another before pulling apart, reforming only to separate again.

How easy it is for things to slip away, unnoticed.

How easy it is for one moment to disperse into a hundred different ones with barely any interference or effort.

The spectacle in front of you fogs up with every breath but you cease to move.

You didn't quite know what you were anticipating, but it felt like waiting for something that wasn't going to show up—for something that wasn't going to stay forever.

Maybe the thought laid in the melancholy of the rain or the anemoia of the atmosphere.

Maybe it was because of the rain drops themselves, so fragile, so temporary.

Maybe it was premonition.

A sudden gust of wind rattles the door behind you, and you instinctively turn to the sound.

"Seol-Hwa?"

You recognize the familiar voice as Jun-Hee walks toward you. Although you haven't known him for long at the moment, he was still one of your cousin's closest friends, and you wanted to get to know him better.

"Oh! Jun-Hee! What are you still doing here?"

"I had a student council meeting," he tells you as he stands across from you, tilting his head. "But what about you?"

"Waiting for Hyun-Ho." You roll your eyes, but it's more fond than anything. "He doesn't want me walking home alone but he's always late staying after for extra practice."

Jun-Hee chuckles lightly at the expression on your face.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

He tries to suppress his smile but fails.

You cross your arms across your chest and stick a foot out, tapping it against the floor, lips pressed together.

"Is my misery funny to you?" you tease.

He puts both hands up and shakes them in a show of refute. "That's not it."

"Then, what is it?"

"Cute."

"Huh...?"

"You're cute when you get angry—or at least try to. It's like watching an upset kitten."

The expressions on your face grow ever more animated by the second but his brown eyes are warm, remaining unchanged, with that half-smile he always seemed to give you when he catches you off guard—the same half-smile that had always made you feel both seen and invisible all at once.

"I-I'm not cute!"

Jun-Hee looks to the side, trying to hold back his laughter as your face heats up, a pink hue dusting the tops of your cheeks.

"Opinions are allowed, you know?" he continues to poke fun at you.

"Alright that's enough of that sir, time for you to go home."

You grab his arm and tug him toward the door as he chuckles, letting you drag him along easily, only stopping as a strong breeze blows a gust of wind between the slight opening between the cracks in the door, sending you shivering.

Jun-Hee pulls out a folded umbrella and takes your hand resting by your side, putting it against your palm to fold your fingers around it. "Knowing Hyun-Ho, he won't have one on him, but he's strong enough to fight off anything, so I'm not worried about him getting sick on the way home." He tilts the umbrella toward you, a subtle offering. "But I am worried about you."

As hard as you try to tamper down the fluttering in your stomach, your heart refuses to still, stuttering unsteadily like the rain dripping down the window—slipping, wavering, falling.

You look up at him in shock. "What about you then?"

He smiles down at you, pointing a finger up the road. "I live only a few blocks from here, I'll be fine."

"But—"

He ruffles your hair as he dashes outside, backpack raised atop his head, a makeshift cover. Jun-Hee turns back around and waves, shouting over the pouring rain, "See you tomorrow, Seol-Hwa!"

Despite the touching gesture, you felt an odd tightening in your chest as water from the sky continues its descent, gradually hazing his image in your sight as if this was more than just a simple parting—as if you had already seen the split that was coming, not knowing in which ways your paths will diverge, akin to the falling raindrops.

"See you tomorrow, Jun-Hee."

Will I ever get to see you again?

You've protected me time and time again, yet why is it that I can't protect you—not even once?

The events of last night come surging back and you nearly crawl in your haste toward the door, barely registering your friends around you.

"Seol-Hwa!" comes Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won's worried voices behind you as you throw the door open but you don't bother to slow your pace, seeing Hyun-Ho stopping the two with an outstretched hand in your peripheral vision.

"Leave her be."

You wipe your streaming tears with the back of your hand as you run aimlessly, no clue as to which direction led to the pool from your starting point, but that didn't matter.

All that mattered was that you can get to Jun-Hee.

The hallways are a blur—whispers of your thoughts swirling like smoke and the hum of the glaringly bright fluorescent lights overhead, but all you can hear is your heartbeat, thudding, rapid, and disjointed, still echoing in your ears.

You couldn't wrap your head around it. There had been screams, a splash, then silence.

The pool.

The water.

Where was he now?

You stumble forward, steps sluggish and eyes unfocused.

He's waiting for me—just as he always has.

As tears blur your vision, you're forced to look down at your feet, one tripping over the other, all sense of balance off kilter.

Paying no mind, you run straight into someone's chest. Only then do you pause, breathing raggedly, swaying on your own two feet. Hands come up to firmly grip at your upper arms as they steady you, holding on, trying to tether you to the present.

The first words that come out of your mouth make no sense, but it's all that your heart knows—the one person who would always be there for you. "Jun-Hee...?"

"He's not here anymore."

Why must you be reminded?

This isn't the reality you wanted to wake up to.

You finally look up, a single teardrop falling from your left eye. "Yes he is," you whisper weakly. Blinking, you try to refocus, but your vision swims, heart pounding harder like you can still feel his presence. "He's waiting for me," you mumble, eyes glazed as you inch backward, mind half-drowned.

Kyung-Jun's lips tightened. He was used to being hated, avoided, and feared, but being ignored is unfamiliar. There was something about the vacant look in your eyes, the way you were moving soullessly, that made him pause.

It gnawed at him.

He wasn't used to people walking past him like he didn't exist.

He wasn't used to you walking past him like he didn't exist, in search of the ghost of someone else.

"Jun-Hee's dead!"

Kyung-Jun's sharp voice does nothing to snap you out of your trance, but it hurts all the same. "No...no..." you start repeating, shaking your head. "No!" Attempting to remove yourself out of his grip is futile, even as you squirm with all your might, fighting against both his hold and words.

"He's gone! Why can't you accept it?"

"I don't want to."

It shouldn't be this easy to read Kyung-Jun, but it is anyway. Although his words are harsh, his eyes are flitting back and forth between your own, the crease between his eyebrows betraying his veiled concern.

"You need to. Once you see it, you'll have to."

"Even if I see it, I still won't. I never will."

"You can't live in that fantasy forever," he reminds, his face so close to yours now, his breath harsh against your skin. "He's not coming back. Not today. Not ever."

"Then, I'll go to him. Today...or forever." Your eyes search his face, unfocused, like you were seeing past him and not through him.

Kyung-Jun's eyes flicker, and for a brief second, something close to regret flashes through. He wants to say more, to make you understand, but the tightness in his chest— the way his pulse races with frustration— keeps him from speaking.

You didn't get it.

You wouldn't get it.

With the last ounce of strength in your trembling hands, you finally manage to push his away, although with your current state, the harsh intent falls short, and Kyung-Jun pretends as though it doesn't, letting you cast him aside.

He releases you, hands falling to his sides in what he tries to convince to himself is disgust.

You don't move at first, eyes still locked somewhere in the middle distance, but the moment you step away, your head spins and you stumble.

Kyung-Jun reflexively shoots an arm out, fingers moving toward your wrist to steady you, but in your desperation, you pull your arm away with a sharp and instinctual yank, the contrasting movements sending your bracelet flying, ultimately landing on the floor.

You stare lifelessly as the red threads unravel, frayed ends splintering off in different directions.

Without saying another word, you kneel down to pick it up, cradling it in your cupped hands, the weight of the hanging jade stone much heavier than it did last night.

"Why are you like this?" Kyung-Jun probes lightly, much softer than the tone with which he spoke earlier. "You're still alive."

You don't notice.

You never noticed how close he was, how his words dripped with something more than anger.

Kyung-Jun's chest tightens as he watches your fingers graze the string, trembling as they curl around the delicate woven strands.

His throat clenches.

His whole body was on fire with something he couldn't comprehend.

The emptiness inside him was suddenly too much. Too raw.

Getting back on your feet, you tuck the bracelet into your skirt pocket and fix him with a stare devoid of any emotions.

Shaking your head, you get the last word in, to a flash of pain and hurt reflecting in Kyung-Jun's eyes. "I died last night...and you were the killer."

And then—without another word—you turn on your heel to walk away, leaving him standing in the hall, torn between wanting to stop trying and wanting to follow.

But, Kyung-Jun doesn't move.

And you don't look back.

You stand frozen outside the glass doors, breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The sun had just begun to climb over the horizon, casting pale, pink light across the pool, reflecting off the water's surface, still and peaceful.

But it didn't feel peaceful. It felt wrong.

Everything felt wrong.

Your hands shake as they hover just inches from the door handle but you can't bring yourself to touch it, knowing you'd rather face anything than the aftermath that awaits you on the other side.

You couldn't go inside.

Not yet.

You weren't ready.

Your mind is a whirl of frantic thoughts, none of them making sense, all of them circling around the same unbearable truth that everyone else except you seemed to be able to fully grasp even though it had been there all night—growing darker and heavier with every passing hour.

He was gone.

The truth hits you again, stinging as if you had only realized it for the first time.

You had tried to deny it last night and even this morning, even if avoiding the acknowledgment made your feet feel like lead and your stomach twist in a way that bordered on the brink of collapsing.

There is nothing else but the sound of water lapping gently against the tiles, yet the silence had screamed at you. It still screams at you.

He's gone.

You thought—no, hoped—that maybe you'd wake up and find everything to be just nightmare.

But it wasn't a dream. It was real. Too real.

You close your eyes and bite your lip, trying to stop the onslaught of tears accumulating at the corner of your eyes.

You couldn't lose him. Not like this. Not in a way that you couldn't fix.

Drawing all of your strength, you pull the doors open with a soft whoosh as bright light slants across against your face from the ceiling high windows, a complete contrast to the darkness that enveloped the space last night.

When you finally step forward, your feet drag as if they weigh a thousand pounds and the lump in your throat refuses to disappear.

The sunlight had risen fully now, turning the water into a glittering, sharp expanse that makes your eyes sting.

The strong smell of chlorine permeates around you, sharp and unmistakeable, cutting through the morning air. The chlorine didn't mask anything; it just laid over it, as if to hide a truth too ugly to bear, as though it sought to try and erase something that couldn't be cleaned. It felt heavier and thick—suffocating.

For some reason, you can only imagine the lingering metallic scent of blood.

Before you can so much as take a few steps forward, you can already spot Jun-Hee's lifeless body floating atop the water's surface, splayed out face up in its midst.

You stop short, breath hitching in your chest, sharp and jagged as if someone had taken the sharpest point of a blade, flaying your heart layer by layer.

He wasn't supposed to be like this.

He wasn't supposed to be here.

He wasn't supposed to be dead.

Your legs tremble as you take a hesitant step toward the pool, then another, and another, neither able to stop nor turn away.

It isn't until you're almost at the edge that your knees buckle, and you have to catch herself against the metal railing, vision blurring. Passingly, you wonder if you were going to faint.

But then you see it: the pool ladder, the way the water swirled around it in small, gentle ripples, the way his hair spreads out, black and damp against the smooth surface of the water, the way his eyes—his once warm eyes—stared up at nothing.

Your stomach churns.

Bile rises in your throat and you clasp a hand to your mouth, in denial—in grief.

You don't know how long you stand there before finally being able to move again.

Only when you jump into the shallow pool, wading your way toward him that your defense mechanism of denial fails, your breath caught in your throat as though you too had drowned, the water rippling in waves between the two of you.

The sound of water splashing echoes in the empty space, devoid of anyone else aside from you and Jun-Hee.

You belatedly wonder if the tears you've shed could fill this entire pool, so that he could float in the oceans of your affections rather than sink in the cold waves of betrayal.

Although your wet clothes continue to weigh you down, you push through it and manage to pull him up and over the poolside edge, leaning his back against the wall as you sit beside him.

His body goes limp and his head falls onto your shoulder, making the water droplets from your hair trickle down, splashing onto the pendant of his bracelet.

He's still wearing it.

You reach out your hand, warm fingers touching his cold ones and hold on tight, almost as if it was possible to will him back to life.

"Jun-Hee, I'm so sorry," you whisper to the air. "Hearing is the last sense to disappear when someone passes, and I know it may be futile, much too late, now to say what I've kept in my heart all this time, but I want you to know that you meant the world to me— you always will mean the world to me. I should've told you when I had the chance that I—"

You never knew. You never knew how I watched you, how every word you spoke made the world lighter and my days brighter. How your smile made me believe in things I didn't understand. You never knew how I felt...because I never told you.

It is in the silence of it—the answerless answer—that crushes you. It is as though you were existing in a hollowed-out shell of yourself where everything you'd held back was caged, imprisoned in the silence of the words you never uttered.

I should've told you, I could've told you, and maybe you might've...

But now there was no might-have, no more could-haves or should-haves. Only the what-if's lingering in the space between, growing wider by the minute.

A second chance can't exist when you never dared to pursue the first.

Love is the most innocent weapon, yet regret is far too bitter of a remedy.

[ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ɴᴏᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴏᴍ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟ. ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴡᴀs ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟ, ᴋɪᴍ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴇᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ. ]

Your eyes waver and you feel goosebumps rise all over your skin, in disbelief at the odds.

Beside you, Jun-Hee starts coughing and spluttering out water. His lips and skin are still far too pale, but the moment his eyes lock on yours, back to their deep chocolate brown rather than the opaque white of last night, he musters up all his strength to smile faintly at you and your entire world stops.

Without wasting another second, you fling your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, afraid that if you don't hold onto him, he'll disappear once again—this time, forever.

As you cry uncontrollably into his shoulder, he wraps one arm securely around your waist to hug you even closer until there's no semblance of space between the two of you and the other winds it's way to your hair at the nape of your neck, pressing the side of your face against his.

You're so close that you can feel his heartbeat against your own chest. "You don't know how scared and how hurt I was, but none of that matters now. You really came back."

You pull back slightly to look at him but he only draws you right back into his arms, breathing out a sigh of relief. "I promised, didn't I? That if I had to leave, I would always come back to you."

"I forbid you from ever doing that again. Rather than promising you'll come back, just stay here with me. That's all I ask for."

"Alright," Jun-Hee whispers on an exhale. "No more making promises neither of us can keep."

You nestle deeper into his shoulder as his hand runs up and down your hair, comforting you when you should be the one comforting him. "I won't forgive you if you put me before yourself again."

Jun-Hee chuckles softly as you feel him nod against your head. "Is that all you're going to tell me? What were you saying earlier about a chance to let me know something?"

"I—"

[ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, sʜɪɴ sᴇᴜɴɢ-ʙɪɴ, ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ, ᴡᴀs ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ʜᴀs ᴄᴏᴍᴇ, sᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀs ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴏᴛᴇs.]

You sit back at the announcement and Jun-Hee drops the subject as the two of you remain in stunned silence, the cruel reality once again dawning.

He runs his fingers over your bare wrist, and you finally look down to see his downcast expression at the missing bracelet.

You withdraw it from your skirt pocket and hand it over to him.

"Will you put it on for me, again? It fell off."

His eyes widen in realization. "So that means—"

"My wish came true, yes."

Jun-Hee delicately ties the red strings around your wrist and you look at the strands, now once again side by side.

"Can I ask what it was?"

"For you to come back to me."

He turns to you, looking upon you with all the fondness in the world.

"You spent a wish on me?"

His fingers reach out to lace against your own, and this time, it's nothing but filled with warmth and life.

"That price was still far too little for what you gave up for me."

Jun-Hee caresses the side of your face with his free hand, eyes staring straight at yours.

You hold your breath when he leans in, but as you close your eyes, he places a soft kiss on your forehead instead, squeezing your hand still in his, the press of his lips still lingering on your skin.

"You'll always be worth it and more, Han Seol-Hwa."

After a piercing scream erupts nearby, you and Jun-Hee dash toward the source, following the sound all the way to the cafeteria where Eun-Chan and Na-Hee are sprawled on the floor in shock while Eun-Ha, Yeon-Woo, and Mi-Na shield their eyes by the farthest corner possible, Seung-Bin's body a bloody pulp laying in the middle of the floor.

Deep gashes mar every inch of his stomach, skin mangled and covered in blood. If you looked close enough, parts of his intestine and abdominal organs were visible just below the surface.

As you survey the scene, the rest of your friend group come running in, looks of relief upon their faces at seeing you and Jun-Hee.

The silence is immediately broken as Jin-Ha stumbles in from the direction of the bathrooms, shirtless and bumbling as if he's seen a ghost.

"Yah..." Yeon-Woo utters. "Did you...kill him?"

Jin-Ha immediately goes on the defensive, shaking his head every which way. "It's not what it looks like!" Despite his insistence, his reactions and behavior make him appear to be far guiltier than he claims. You can't tell if it's sweat or tears rolling down his face but he wipes at it in haste, eliminating all traces. "When I woke up this morning, that's how I found him," his voice cracking at the end. "It wasn't me." As everyone looks from him to Seung-Bin's corpse and back again, he emphasizes hurriedly, "Guys, it really wasn't me."

Putting the growing suspicion aside for the moment, you kneel down beside the body, deftly braiding your long hair to keep it out of the way.

Next to you, Yoon-Seo has her phone at the ready to take pictures of the surrounding shoe prints, imprinted on the floor in blood.

"You two have got to be kidding me," Jung-Won intones from behind, though you pay her no mind.

As Da-Bum brings in a long white sheet to cover up the gruesome scene, you signal for him to wait, extending your hand towards the wounds, pulling the skin back to investigate.

When more blood gushes out of the opening, Yoon-Seo has to clamp a hand over her mouth, getting up to walk over to a trash can, dry heaving.

With your parents having been surgeons, it allowed you to watch more live surgeries than you can count, and you knew your way around the human body fairly well, particularly fatal landmarks.

Jun-Hee hauls you up and away as you sit there staring, trying to connect the dots, preventing the others from clearing the body.

"The three of them were inseparable," Yeon- Woo whispers, referring to Kyung-Jun's group.

"Talk about some loyal friends..." Eun- Chan admonishes, clucking his tongue.

"Between life and death, loyalty is no priority to them," Eun-Ha says openly and the statement hangs heavily in the air, everyone far too privy to the weight it holds.

Jung-Won sighs. "We should go. The smell of blood is sickening."

"Not yet," you refute. Turning to the group, you tell them what you found. "There are multiple stab wounds littered across his body, all inflicted at a particular site. The length and depth of it can be estimated to be by a knife."

"Stop talking about this," Jung-Won cuts in tiredly. "I don't think anyone wants to know the gory details."

You turn to her. "It may be scary to hear, but aren't we all wondering why someone would take things this far? There are far less cruel methods if the Mafia wanted someone to die overnight just so they can add on to their kill count, no?"

"Maybe the Mafia members are just that cruel," Jung-Won deadpans.

"But this..." you pause, eyeing the puddles of bloodstains still on the floor, "...This is way too morbid."

"What do you mean?" Yoon-Seo asks quietly, scrolling through the evidence she was able to gather.

"From what I saw, it looked like Seung-Bin was stabbed even after he had already died. There were wounds far fresher than others, as well as far deeper. To attack his internal organs in such a manner and especially in the stomach where you can quickly die of hemorrhage, the intent to kill extends beyond the reasoning for this game."

"You don't think—" Hyun-Ho starts.

You nod your head sadly. "Yes. In this case, whoever was involved wanted revenge, not simply for him to die. Up until this point, no one's death has been this gruesome or out in the open."

"I can't take this anymore," Mi-Na mutters. "Maybe we should all leave this for now and see what else we can find."

Your huge group ends up in agreement and exit forlornly, ultimately ending up in the annex where the other half of your classmates are crowded around a wall with what appears to be writing on it.

From the Police: Jun-Hee is a Citizen.

"Is this your doing?" Da-Bum turns to Jun- Hee, questioning.

"How can it be? Have you forgotten where I was last night? It's impossible."

Da-Bum shies away in embarrassment as Eun-Chan speaks up, "Did the Police actually write this?"

"Maybe they're finally putting their skill to good use," Eun-Ha suggests before rounding her immediate friend group to go back to their rooms.

"It wasn't here yesterday, right?" Dong- Hyun inquires as he surveys the handwriting.

"No, I don't remember seeing it," Hyun-Ho answers. "If I did, I don't think I would forget to bring it up."

You squint your eyes at the odd shade of the writing, a burnt orange color you've yet to see in typical markers.

On instinct, you reach a hand toward the font and swipe at it with your forefinger, drawing it toward your nose.

Providine.

The silence is defeaning as you all gather in the classroom where the discussion the night of Woo-Ram's elimination took place.

It feels like deja vu: the unending sense of unease, the suspicions leading to betrayals, and the unyielding curse of false accusations.

You sit beside Jun-Hee atop a table as he addresses the group. "I had no choice but to lie yesterday. I'm a Citizen. I don't know who the Doctor who saved me was but I wanted to give a word of thanks."

When you look up, you catch Yu-Jun's eye at the far corner of the room and hope that it's able to convey the enormous gratitude you felt toward him. He wasn't obligated to use it for Jun-Hee, or for your sake for that matter, but it means more than he could ever know.

Kyung-Jun leans forward in his chair and sends Jun-Hee a dirty look. "Living is one thing, but your identity in this game is a separate matter. Just because you came back to life doesn't clear you of suspicion."

"Right," Mi-Na chimes in, and you outwardly roll your eyes. She always bandwagons, going along with whatever someone else tells her rather than come to her own decisions or simply even having her own thoughts. "How come his identity wasn't revealed yesterday? Usually it's customary when they die."

"He wasn't out of the game completely given the resurrection, so why would it be announced?" You turn to Mi-Na and shoot her a look, one that conveys without words your feelings, that makes her lower her head, discouraged from pursuing the issue further.

"It really wasn't you who wrote the message on the wall?" Kyung-Jun changes the subject, but once again, it still targets Jun-Hee, and your fingers tighten around the phone in your hands, tired of this back and forth.

"Do you think I had the time to do so?" Jun- Hee grits out through his teeth, trying to remain civil. "Would it make sense between my waking up and yours, that I would have been able to run to the annex just for that?"

"Who knows?" Jin-Ha intones childishly. "Maybe you wrote it in the middle of the night while we were asleep." He shrugs his shoulders mockingly, before adding, "Why would you willingly choose to be eliminated unless you were crazy and knew you would be saved? You Mafia bastard."

"He's a Citizen," you comment confidently as you stare down Jin-Ha. "Can we say the same about you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Isn't there something you want to tell us?"

Jin-Ha stands up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The screeching sound has everyone turning to him. "Don't talk in circles, you bitch!"

"Quiet!" Kyung-Jun shouts, and Jin-Ha turns his head toward his leader, still shaking in anger. "Stop embarrassing yourself."

"You can't so easily cast accusations on someone else when you were the most suspicious this morning," you spit out with venom. "Don't act as if none of us saw you behaving weirdly earlier when we found Seung-Bin's body."

Jin-Ha deflates quickly, dropping back down into his seat, seething as to remain strong and in control. "How was I weird?!" He barely restrains himself from full out screaming at you.

"Since you came out of the bathroom without a shirt on pleading with everyone that you weren't the killer, was it before or after you discarded your bloody top?"

"How did you—"

"Shut up!" Kyung-Jun bellows at him. "Right now!"

Jin-Ha presses his lips together tightly, chin quivering. He knows he's been silenced, his interjection alone more incriminating than he intended.

"What would you do if the Police actually are trying to communicate with us?" Yoon-Seo speaks up beside you.

"Have you ever thought of that possibility?"

"I also think the same," Na-Hee voices meekly. "Perhaps the Doctor knows more than we do and was sure that Jun-Hee's a Citizen. They wouldn't just risk saving a random person most likely to be Mafia."

"Rather than interrogating Jun-Hee, isn't finding the person who killed Seung-Bin a more pressing matter?" So-Mi's words echo yours and that has everyone turning steadily toward Jin-Ha, seeking answers.

"It wasn't me!" Jin-Ha stresses. "He was already dead when I woke up!"

Yoon-Seo shifts on her feet and starts her investigation. "You said it was just you two, right?" At Jin-Ha's nod, she continues on. "Was there anything unusual that happened that you remember of?"

Jin-Ha runs a hand down his face, trying to recall details late last night and early this morning. "Nothing stands out." He looks around and noticing more than a few narrowed eyes on him, backpedals. "The Mafias could have easily smeared the blood on me when I was out cold, but I swear I wasn't trying to get rid of evidence or anything a few hours ago!" Met with silence, he expectantly turns to Kyung-Jun. "Isn't that right? You know me better than everyone here. I wouldn't do that."

Kyung-Jun scoffs, and his next words has Jin-Ha's expectant expression dropping, betrayal written all over his face. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought."

"What?"

"More than a few people witnessed you covered in Seung-Bin's blood. Isn't that clear evidence?" Kyung-Jun looks Jin-Ha dead in the eyes, no regrets evident. "Is it not because he kept picking on you, belittling you, that you found the perfect chance to end him completely? It's getting more likely that you'll be voted out."

"Is this how you repay me?!" Jin-Ha questions, and your blood runs cold at the way Kyung-Jun so easily casts people aside, readily sending them to their deaths without so much as a blink of his eyes. "Gaesaekki."

Kyung-Jun kicks his chair aside and it upends after tumbling over its own legs, winding up upside down a few feet away, the sound reverberating in the now still- room. "You must have a death wish, scumbag."

He grabs Jin-Ha by the neck of his shirt and the two wrestle one another, throwing the other onto the tabletops, their strengths nearly equal.

That is, until Jin-Ha bumps into the edge of one and lands on the floor, holding his hip. Seeing the lucky advantage, Kyung-Jun immediately makes the most of it, kicking the former relentlessly, showing no mercy or regard for their past friendship.

Yoon-Seo dashes over in an attempt to pry them apart, but with a quick fling of Kyung-Jun's arm, it sends her straight to the floor with a yelp.

You hurry over to get her back to her feet, supporting her with an arm behind her back and one in the front across her shoulder line as she stands up, moving her farther away from the chaos.

Ultimately, it takes both Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun to pry Kyung-Jun off an already battered and bleeding Jin-Ha, new scratches littering his face and lip cut, fresh bleed oozing out.

"Vote him out!"

"How can you be so certain it's him?!" Yoon-Seo admonishes. "What if you're wrong? What then?!"

You squeeze her shoulder and pull her back even more as Kyung-Jun swivels his head to glare at her. "Shut your fucking mouth and do as you're told."

While he's momentarily distracted, Jun-Hee strides toward him and snatches his phone from his shirt pocket.

"Give that back, you fucker."

"For what? So that you can keep doing whatever the hell you want?"

"What's it to you? You do as you wish and so can I."

"If you keep this power trip up and behave like a dictator, there's no guarantee that you won't wind up getting every single vote." That shuts the taller one up for the time being as he realizes no one is on his side. "We'll meet again at eleven tonight to decide as a whole. Let's not act rashly until then," Jun-Hee concludes.

Although everyone is still skeptical and more confused than anything, the crowd ultimately disperses, including a peeved Kyung-Jun who is allowed to have his phone back, courtesy of Jun-Hee.

In a final show of defiance, he kicks a lone table so hard it slams against the wall though no one bats an eye, too used to his anger issues by now.

In the meantime, Dong-Hyun and Hyun-Ho place Jin-Ha's arms, one on either of their shoulders, and hoist him up.

"Let's get him to the infirmary," Yoon-Seo leads, Jung-Won and you trailing behind the other four.

Before you can leave, a hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist.

Sensing you no longer following, Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won look behind them, but seeing the hold up, they nod and head out first.

"Is everything alright?"

Jun-Hee simply nods as he slides his fingers down until they reach your hand, holding them in his own.

"So-Mi," he mutters, startling her as she's cleaning up the fallen tables and chairs in the room as a result of the fight earlier. "Can we talk?"

She immediately stops and turns to him, all bright-eyed and lips curling upward.

"I'll go," you yield, ready to take your hand away.

"Yeah, you really should."

So-Mi can barely contain her smile as she straightens out her skirt and hair quickly.

"No, I want you to stay."

Her smile falls as quickly as it appeared, expression turning ever darker when Jun-Hee laces his fingers through yours.

"Didn't you have something to tell me? Only me?"

"This isn't something just between us," Jun-Hee straightforwardly settles. "Whatever I have or need to say, it will always be in front of her."

"What is it then?"

"Don't ever frame anyone, especially Seol-Hwa, for me."

So-Mi scoffs, hatred burning in her eyes. "Jun-Hee, can't you see that I was trying to save you? All I wanted was to help."

"I never asked for it."

"How can you say that to me?"

“You can blame me all you want, but the truth is you didn't do it for me. You did it for yourself."

"Yah Kim Jun-Hee," she mutters in disbelief. "Don't you remember what I did for you, or are you just that heartless? Who sided with you when you were suspected?" So-Mi points a finger at her chest repeatedly, tapping it against her sternum. "It was me!" Her lip quivers, eyes enlarged. "Get a hold of yourself! Do you really want me to consider you a Mafia?"

"Suit yourself," Jun-Hee replies with utmost disinterest, turning to walk away while pulling you along. "I've only ever cared about what Seol-Hwa thinks of me."

With your back against one of the bed frames for the bunk beds, your brain is elsewhere rather than in reality.

Seated around the table in the middle of the room, Yoon-Seo, Jung-Won, Da-Bum, Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun all stare off into space, lost in their own thoughts.

Jun-Hee takes a seat beside you, looking at you warily from where you're not moving your gaze away from your phone, eyes scanning across the device, counting those remaining over and over again.

"Eat even if you don't want to," comes Jung-Won's voice as a triangle kimbap and soda are placed in your field of vision. "I can't remember the last time I saw you eat something ever since we got here."

You look up at her then glance to the kimbap in her outstretched hand. She still remembers your go-to convenience store food, even after all these years.

Hesitantly taking it, you push the soda back toward her. "This one's your favorite. It always has been."

Jung-Won sends you a small smile and immediately cracks the soda can open, taking a long gulp from it.

The break in the silence of the room spurs the rest to take tiny bites of snacks atop the table that up until now had remained untouched.

Da-Bum, Hyun-Ho, and Dong-Hyun all rise shortly after, and you call out to them,

"Where are you three going? Should I be worried?"

Hyun-Ho shakes his head. "Dong-Hyun and I are just going to check around for any more trouble." As he walks past you, he ruffles your hair. "Don't fret so much eomma."

"You—" you retort, but the two are already out of the room before you can follow.

Da-Bum juts a finger in an arbitrary direction. "My laptop is still in the basement so..."

"Oh, right," Jung-Won acknowledges, a light slap to her forehead. "I'll go with you then."

You close your eyes momentarily at the much needed silence, Jun-Hee's and Yoon- Seo's rummaging around the room not at all deterring your peace.

"Hey, Seol-Hwa, Yoon-Seo," Jun-Hee suddenly calls. Your eyes open, one first then finally the other, after seeing him hold Woo-Ram's camcorder in his hands, not a bit worse for wear. You hadn't seen it since the hiking incident, not wishing to ever relive those memories. Huddling around Jun-Hee on either side, you and Yoon-See peer at the small rectangular screen, following the path of Jun-Hee's pointer finger. "Watch." He presses play and it captures a far away image of what appears to be a couple on a cliff outcrop overlooking the ocean. Neither you nor Yoon-Seo had seen this in person, with her having stayed back at the building and you with Dong-Hyun on the other side of the trail. "They don't move at all. Isn't this strange?"

"It doesn't look real."

Even seeing it, you couldn't believe it. The footage enters in and out with static, though the image is permanently at a standstill.

"How is this possible?" Yoon-Seo angles the screen more toward her and Jun-Hee lets her have it as she fast-forwards through the video, eventually zooming in to the couple's faces. "Uh...guys."

"What is it?"

Yoon-Seo quickly flips the screen your way at your concern, and you catch sight of the scratched out faces, exactly like that of the school photos you found.

"What do we make of this?"

Jun-Hee runs a hand through his hair as Yoon-Seo closes the camcorder shut, fingers rubbing her temples.

"I think we should revisit the teacher's lounge."

The two nod as they readily follow your path straight toward the offices.

It's left completely untouched and in the exact same condition you all found it the first night upon arrival.

"Nothing's changed, yet everything has," Yoon-Seo murmurs, more to herself than anything.

You plop down behind one of the computers and reboot the system, hoping something— anything—comes of it this time around.

A flash comes from the corner and you overhear bits and pieces of Jun-Hee's and Yoon-Seo's conversation, although you're too busy looking below the desk for possible clues you've potentially missed.

"A picture of me? What for?"

"I tried with inanimate objects in this room, and the result is fine, but human subjects... the face is distorted. It's so unsettling, Jun-Hee."

As you're about to pull yourself up, the faintest whisper of movement catches your ear. A sound. Faint at first, like a breeze running through paper, but unmistakably...human. Your pulse spikes as you spin around, your breath hitching as you scan the cubicle walls. The air feels thicker now, charged.

Then, the crawling sensation creeps in, running from your neck to trail down your spine as goosebumps start to litter your skin.

When you look over, thin spindly black fingers inch into view, cold, spectral— ghostly and translucent—crawling up the dividers.

The first one appears from the shadowed corner, stretching like a long, spidery limb. Your heart pounds against your ribs as you stare unmoving at the digits sliding up the wall, bending and curving unnaturally, moving without sound.

You recoil back, eyes locked onto the fingers as they continue their slow ascent, unable to look away. There was something hypnotic, something awful, in the way they moved, like they were searching for prey, creeping closer, pale nails directed at you.

You shake your head as you blink, trying to rid yourself of the hallucination, and suddenly, a shiny golden key drops from thin air.

Your fingers are clutched so tightly around your phone that they turn white, gradually losing feeling.

A ping snaps you out of it and with shaky hands, it takes you multiple tries to finally open the animation announcement, a perfect picture replica of the key you just obtained.

[ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ʜᴏsᴛ. ]

As you sit stunned with the key still in your outstretched hand laid face-up atop the table, the door swings open and closed again.

"Seol-Hwa...?" Da-Bum whispers, drawing the attention of the others. "Are you... okay?"

Jun-Hee makes to touch your face, but thinks better of it seeing you in total shock. "You look really shaken up. What's wrong?"

Jung-Won leans her elbow on the counter beside you, studying you worriedly.

"I saw a ghost earlier." Everyone's varying reactions would've been comical in any other situation if the stakes weren't so deadly. "It gave me this—"

You present the sole key to them.

"Do you know what it's for?"

Jun-Hee leans over from behind you to peer at it, curious.

"I have no clue, but since there's a message for it, it must be something important."

Jung-Won stands closer as Yoon-Seo and Da-Bum also crowd around to assess. "What did it say?"

"What we've all been wanting: to find the host." You tilt your head at her, confused. "Did you not get the instructions?"

Jung-Won pulls out her phone and scrolls before peering up over the top edge of glasses, staring long and hard at you. "I didn't." Addressing the group, she asks, "How about the rest of you?"

Met with three matching shakes of the head, you gaze at them dumbfounded.

"Was it only for me?"

"Can you show me what it looks like?" Jung-Won gestures toward your device and you readily unlock it, going straight to the notification center within the game.

You bite on the inside of your cheek as the inbox reads empty. "It...disappeared." To your own ears, even you sound odd, but who would lie about something this out of the ordinary. "Regardless, there must be a reason to find the host. Why don't we alert everyone and make the search easier, hmm?"

"Is that really necessary?" Jung-Won exhales and her tone suddenly becomes curt. "I have to be honest with you Seol-Hwa, I can't keep up with the things you tell us. We never find anything based on these half leads. What if you get suspected as Mafia again for saying that?"

The others can sense the tension growing between the two of you as your voice changes from hopeful to one of annoyance. "This has nothing to do with my intuition or pieces of clues. The game itself sent me the message."

Shaking her head, it seems as though Jung-Won can hardly contain herself from iterating something she'd regret. "Yes, to you only, and for your eyes only. We don't even have evidence of it. If other people don't believe it, there's nothing you can do."

"Are you saying I made all of this up?" your voice rises, and Da-Bum jumps in anxiously, hoping to shift the conversation elsewhere.

"It's not that we're blaming you, but rather, the situation..."

"Right," Jung-Won placates. "I just think it's better for all of us to be careful until we find solid evidence. We can't afford to end up in the same position of sacrificing one of us like the previous nights."

Yoon-Seo remains quiet, glancing back and forth between all of you sadly.

As a last resort, you turn to Jun-Hee, but you can already tell it's a lost cause.

"Seol-Hwa, you know I believe you—no matter what it is. It's the fact that the rest doesn't in the way I do that has me worried. Maybe we can keep this between us for the time being?"

You look around at all of them in quick succession, feeling more hurt than you expected. "So the final verdict is what?" you say aloud bitterly. "That you all trust me— just not enough?"

"That's not—" Jung-Won interjects, but you push your chair back, walking away from the desk, key in hand.

"Seol-Hwa..." comes Yoon-Seo's kind voice as you head for the door.

With your hand around the doorknob, Jun-Hee grabs your free one, making you swivel back around.

"Let me come with."

For the first time, you find it hard to readily accept his companionship as you slip your hand out of his.

You know that the look in his eyes as you leave is one of regret, clashing with the look of dejection in yours.

The retreat center was vast, empty in its isolation, with the kind of oppressive silence that swallowed everything—every breath, every thought.

You wander down the narrow stone path outside the entrance, careful not to overstep the borderlines, each step hesitant against the asphalt.

The air is thick with the smell of damp earth, despite no recent downpours, the faint whisper of the wind through the trees, and the looming unsettling knowledge that another night would soon begin.

It wasn't that you didn't know the game was still unfolding, like a nightmare that couldn't end, but you thought you had adapted—that you were resilient enough to brace yourself against the horrors.

However, it was the quiet moments that cut the deepest.

Your heart weighed heavier than usual. You were foolish to think that friendship and loyalty could turn the tides of this situation, but the longer you were all involved, the greater the distance between you all grew with each passing day.

The looks.

The half-formed glances.

The doubts that override trust.

Perhaps no one had outright said it, but it was in their eyes—the fear, the suspicion. You couldn't blame them, regardless of your personal disappointments.

In a game to the death where everyone is forced to play the villain in one way or the other, who could find fault in anyone for becoming paranoid—for not being able to trust anyone fully except oneself?

Exhaling on a long outbreath, you lower yourself onto the curb, sitting down with your legs outstretched in front of you.

"Hey."

A voice cuts through the silence, startling you from her thoughts. Turning, you instinctively gaze upward, eyes landing on the lone figure approaching.

Yu-Jun.

There weren't many instances where the two of you interacted, little in this game, and even more sparingly before it. He had always been distant, even in the halls of school, and just as he had perceptions about you, so did you about him so far as concerning his character, by association of the friends he kept around him.

He had been one of those people who didn't care enough to pretend, too consumed with his own world to notice those of others.

Truthfully, you never liked him, and he'd certainly never been kind to you.

But, things were different now.

Both of you were resurrectors; it was your shared responsibility to bring back those chosen by the game's cruel hand—to give them another chance to survive.

You could see the weight of that responsibility was starting to show on Yu-Jun's face. His eyes were heavy, hollow. There was also something else there now—a weariness you couldn't place, a kind of sorrow you hadn't seen in him when Ji-Soo was still around.

"Hey," you repeat, voice softer than you mean for it to be.

Yu-Jun takes a step closer, his footsteps deliberate, debating whether to sit beside you. "You're out here alone." After a few more awkward shuffles of his feet, he takes a seat on the same curb as you, a respectable distance away.

You shrug, arms crossed tightly over your midsection. "Just needed a little bit of space to myself."

He nodded as if understanding, then looked away, line of sight drifting to the ground. The silence stretches thin, until finally, he speaks again, low and almost detached.

"I can't save anyone tonight, but I know I made the right previous choice."

"Why did you choose to save Jun-Hee?" You dragging the toe of your shoe against the gravel, rocks crunching beneath your feet, finding the right words to rephrase with. "Not that I'm not thankful, it's just... don't take offense to this, but I didn't pin you to be the type to do so."

Yu-Jun doesn't meet your eyes. Instead, he stared off into the darkness, his jaw tight, like the words are hard to force out. "I didn't want you both to end up like me," he mutters, his voice cracking, though he quickly clears his throat to mask it. "I couldn't save her. I couldn't save us."

Your gaze flickers to his, and for the briefest moment, something vulnerable flashes in his eyes. "Do you see you both in Jun-Hee and I?"

He looks down at his hands as if can still feel the weight of Ji-Soo in his arms.

He pauses as if her name still lingers on the tip of his tongue.

"That night I... I should've saved her. I was supposed to—choose between myself and her. Like a coward, I..." he halts, words choking on the air. "I chose myself."

You didn't speak, letting him continue. Something in the way his shoulders hunched told you that talking about this wasn't easy for him and you could sense the bitterness, the guilt, so thick in his tone.

The confession hangs in the silence, suffocating on its own weight.

It was too easy to hear the regret in his voice, the sorrow that he hadn't been able to shake. His past was now a living ghost that haunted him, and you felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Why didn't you save her?" you ask softly, words careful, far too gentle.

Yu-Jun turns toward you, a mixture of pain and sadness in his eyes. "Because I'm a fool —I have always been a fool. I truly thought I could beat the game. I thought I could make it through. I believed that if I just played the right way, I—we—could survive. But I know now how wrong I was." His voice drops to a whisper, barely audible. "Now, every time I bring someone back... I ask myself if I'm just choosing them to make up for the one I lost?"

You reach out, placing your hand lightly on his shoulder. It wasn't much—just a small, quiet gesture of comfort.

"All grievances are settled at the end of every life. Ji-Soo will hear you and she'll understand. I know so," you reassure, certain.

Yu-Jun stiffens at first, before his shoulders fall and he breathes out, long and slow, nodding in acceptance as he sits in silence to ponder.

You brush off your skirt as you stand up, turning to leave and allow him to be with his thoughts on his own, sensing the end of your talk.

As you take one last look back, you can't seem to shake the feeling that this might be the first and last conversation you'll ever have with him.

𝟬𝟳 : 𝗔𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 | 𝟬𝟵 : 𝗔𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗦’ 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗟

A sense of heaviness settles atop your body, aching as though it has been carrying the weight of far too many days for far too long.

Your eyelids flutter open languidly, the effort of rising from the darkness of sleep too much to take. For a moment, you sit still, staring at the tender rays filtering in, but it offers no warmth, only a pale reminder of things that once felt brighter.

Feeble shadows dance across the walls, reflecting off the surface of the floors.

In the dulled haze of the scattered sunbeams, the light is neither enough to pierce through the darkness of your dismal dreams nor your despairing reality.

The beautiful, soft, and serene sunlight doesn't touch your heart any longer, for even if it did, it wouldn't change a single thing.

It feels like a lie, that sunlight.

It promises warmth, but it doesn't deliver.

Your chin quivers and you bring your fingers to your face, rubbing your eyes in an effort to physically hold back the tears. Wanting to close your eyes for just a second, even that small release of tension only makes you more aware of the pressure in your chest.

Only when warm hands envelop your own to gently pull them away do you turn to its source.

Jun-Hee's brown eyes are the first thing you see and shielding your heart, you remain strong, holding his gaze.

It brings you comfort, but also trepidation, as you focus on his irises, a rich, deep hue contrasting that of the soulless, colorless shade of murky white imprinted in your subconscious.

Death was staring at you through his eyes in that vivid nightmare, and instead of running away, you had run toward it.

You both sit completely still in one another's presence for a couple more minutes before the familiar lump lodges its way in your throat the longer you look at him and circling through a million what-if's.

It's too much.

Too much to keep pretending that things will get better.

No longer being able to ground your thoughts or steady your breaths, your hands fall from his and you rise on shaky feet, walking in a non-linear line seeking escape.

The silence swells again and you step forward, feet carrying you toward the door, each movement mechanical.

There's no destination in mind, no plan. Just the thought that perhaps if you walk long enough, if you move far enough, you can outrun whatever's holding you here.

But deep down, you know that you won't.

You know that you can't.

As you pass a mirror hung up on the adjacent wall, you stop short in your tracks.

You swallow, then blink at your reflection in the mirror, barely recognizable to your own self, splatters of blood dotted across your visage and eyes devoid of hope.

It makes you physically hurt.

It makes you want to scream out loud.

Instead, you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood and swipe at your own face, each pass more aggressive than the last.

No matter how hard you press, the streaks merely smear, yet refuse to disappear completely.

You wonder if this is how it will be once this is all over.

Try as you might, you can't imagine in the slightest ever being able to rid of the gruesome memories.

The tears.

The blood.

The deaths.

The world outside continues on, unchanged, while you remain stuck in this place, trapped in the moment between yesterday and tomorrow.

At the next raise of your hand, Jun-Hee winds his fingers around your wrist and tugs it down tenderly but still firmly enough that it brings you back to your senses.

The familiar rage and hurt bubble inside your chest and you force it down, bottling your emotions as you have always done.

Wordlessly, Jun-Hee throws open the room's door and drags you along on a path straight to the bathrooms.

He turns your shoulders, facing you away from the wall length mirrors, back pressed against the counter of sinks.

The light flickers overhead as you hang your head, silent sobs wracking your body. Jun-Hee stands in the doorway, heart twisting in his chest at the sight of you. For as long as he has known you, your strength had always been something he admired. But now, you were breaking, and he felt helpless.

"Seol-Hwa," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "Please."

Your shoulders shudder as you look up, eyes swollen and red. The weight of everything you couldn't say crushes you, too heavy for words.

With determination, Jun-Hee crosses the threshold to stand in front of you, bending down to eye level and ever so gently reaching forward to cup your face in his hands. His touch is steady, even as he fears you would pull away hearing your breath hitch at the contact.

"Look at me," he murmurs, low and even. "I want you to see your reflection of yourself as I see you. Deflect all your pains, your worries, and your fears onto me. In my eyes, there is only you."

Tears make their descent down your face so you shakily inhale, trying to stop the streaming rivulets. Jun-Hee gingerly steps ever closer, thumbs brushing over your cheeks to trace the lines of every drop.

"I—I don't know how to fix it," you choke out, voice trembling. "No one can."

As your tears continue to fall unbidden, Jun-Hee sighs and reaches around you for a stack of paper towels, dampening them with cool water before softly wiping your face as if he were erasing the pain one swipe at a time.

Rather than pulling away or flinching, you surrender to the tender touch, breath slowing just a little with each movement. You can't help but to stare, the course of your nightmare haunting you even when awake.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's—" you pause, not knowing how to approach it. You decide if you didn't start, Jun-Hee wouldn't have to learn of the ending. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it has you like this."

You shake your head, lips pressed into a firm line.

"Was it a bad dream?"

Hesitantly, you nod, tears brimming on your waterline once more. "In it...you left." It was neither of your faults, yet the words come out laced with bitterness yet also chock-full of longing, of pain, and of regret. "You left...and I was all alone."

Jun-Hee pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. He didn't have answers. He couldn't make it disappear. But he could be here. He could hold you.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" One hand comes to nestle the back of your head, patting softly in reassurance. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Wrapping your arms around him, you rest your ear against his chest, finding solace in his beating heart signaling life, chambers of sound echoing your feelings for him.

"The future seems far too bleak to give us a choice to stay."

"In any circumstance, even if I had to leave, I would always come back to you, Seol- Hwa."

[ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ, ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴋɪʟʟ. ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪ-sᴏᴏ, ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ, ᴡᴀs ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs, ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ. ]

The monotonous announcement drones on soporifically, seemingly mocking Yu-Jun's cries that nearly mask every single word like knives probing at the still-open wounds in his heart.

You can barely bring yourself to watch even after the others have left the scene one by one as Yu-Jun holds Ji-Soo's limp body in his arms behind the previously impenetrable door now split down the middle, a parallel to their parting.

"This can't be..." Yu-Jun intones in despair, shaking his girlfriend's shoulders to no avail. "I still need you here with me..."

Recognition comes at you in full force, causing you to stumble back, clutching at the doorframe in reliance as your head spins, the same exact words you had said to Jun-Hee in your nightmare reverberating in the dark recesses of your mind, echoing far too loud in the vicinity of the now empty hallway.

Sensing the movement, Yu-Jun glances over, a flash of surprise to see you still there, before it's gone and replaced by utter grief.

Pulling yourself together, you hesitantly approach. Even as you kneel down next to the two, you're met with no resistance nor reticence as you had expected.

"You don't have to stay. No one else did." Yu-Jun's voice is muffled as he pulls Ji-Soo ever closer, hunching over with his head against her own.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to," you emphasize.

At this, he looks up, confused. "I don't understand. I'm not someone who should be on the receiving end of kindness."

"That doesn't mean you deserve this," you gesture around, noticing somberly as his hands tighten, clutching at the fabric of Ji-Soo's now crinkled white shirt. "None of us do."

"Maybe I do." Yu-Jun stares straight forward at the wall, focusing on nothing. "Maybe this is karma for everything I've done wrong."

"We're people. Everyone makes mistakes. It's part of being human."

Yu-Jun chuckles darkly. "Tell me, what kind of mistake is this game then?"

"A fatal one."

There's a long stretch of silence between you two before he speaks up. "I'm sorry." You're taken aback by the sudden admission of regret, unable to hide your reaction. Yu-Jun clears his throat awkwardly before addressing you with sincerity. "My friend group, me included, haven't always been the nicest to you or yours and even though I knew it deep down, I never owned up to it. On behalf of them and myself, I want to apologize." His breaths come out ragged with so much still to convey between every intake of air. "In case—" he glances down again at Ji-Soo in his arms and brushes away stray strands of hair from her face. "—I don't get the chance to say the things I've saved to say."

"Do you have words that you regret never having said?"

"Three. Only three."

You can guess what it is without confirmation from the way Yu-Jun's lips quiver, eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Stay alive for her."

"I don't know if I can."

"You will," you respond with certainty, rising back on your feet.

"How are you so sure?"

"Are there not people you still want to save, including yourself?"

Realization finally makes its way onto his face. "H-How did you figure it out? T-That I'm a doctor?" The words come out in broken stutters.

You pull out your phone and turn it around, showing the resurrection screen. "It's hard to recognize those against you, but it's even harder to recognize those with you. We shouldn't let one another down."

Yu-Jun opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find the right words to say. "I feel as though I've already disappointed so many. A second chance is not something I deserve."

"Rather than saying you don't deserve things, prove that you do."

"Do you...not have any desire to reserve revival for yourself? "

"I could, but that defeats the whole purpose of this responsibility assigned to us in saving the innocent. Doctors place the needs of others before their own. Is that not what we are now?"

Yu-Jun's entire demeanor shifts from reluctant to resolute, from hopeless to hopeful. "I'll do my best so that no more sacrifices will be done in vain."

A faint smile adorns your face, acknowledging the partnership wordlessly. "Whatever happens, don't forget to protect yourself even as you're protecting the others."

Yu-Jun makes a sound of affirmation as you turn to leave. "Wait—"

You look back over your shoulder. "What is it?"

"You're a really good person, Seol-Hwa, just as Jun-Hee has always said. I see why he likes you so much."

Faltering, the corner of your lips imperceptibly curl downward. "We're best friends. He's obligated to say that."

"I don't think feelings are an obligation."

"Feelings never do well in a life or death situation."

"Do you have words that you regret never having said?" Yu-Jun uses your own verbatim against you.

Your eyes waver but you tamper down your emotions, refusing to let them show. "I had a dream last night where I said the words I've always wanted to say and Jun-Hee and I still wind up, over and over again, at only one ending sequence."

"And that ending is?"

Swiveling your head back around to hide the tears wanting to fall, you whisper quietly before walking away, "The same as your's."

Despite Yu-Jun declining to join, the rest reconvene in the deserted warehouse, as barren and cold as you were feeling.

Everyone is on edge, warily eyeing one another, no longer trying to hide the smallest ounce of suspicion.

Yoon-Seo speaks up next to you, words curt as she crosses her arms across her chest. "What's the reason for calling all of us down here?"

If it was possible, Kyung-Jun is even more patronizing, walking back and forth in the center with his head held high. Haughtily, he turns to the group. "Do you all not know or are you pretending not to?" He smirks. "Park Woo-Ram, that bastard, the one who deceived all of you was the Mafia. Just who was the only person to pinpoint that?" Throwing his hands up in a show of bravado, he motions for applause. "Me."

Solely, Seung-Bin claps, always one to grovel at his leader's feet. "Of course, it's no one else but you with the great hunch." His positive countenance morphs to one of disdain, transitioned so seamlessly, that it makes you wonder if he has ever displayed a genuine expression. "I can't say the same for you lot of Police. Whoever you all are, you could learn a thing or two from Kyung-Jun."

The person in question waves him off to the back and steps forward, hands in his pockets. "Hear that? If you want to catch the Mafia, do as I say."

Beside you, Jun-Hee deadpans, "Do what?"

"You'll take turns saying who you think is guilty and I'll pick for you."

Whispers grow amongst your classmates and you can sense the growing frustration directed at a single player.

Scoffing, Jun-Hee shakes his head in disbelief. "Who are you to decide? It's up to all of us."

"There's not enough collective intelligence for us to do that. Did you all forget how and why I nearly died last night? Who other than me is definitely a Citizen?" Kyung-Jun strides the length of the room as he scrutinizes everyone in turn, shaking his pointer finger in succession but ultimately drops it as he reaches you. Seeing your mien of indifference, he pivots back around, leaving his next words hanging in the air. "I think the rest of the Mafia members are hidden among those who voted for me yesterday."

"That doesn't mean anything," Na-Hee defends.

"Oh really?" Kyung-Jun whirls back around, fixating on Na-Hee and clucks his tongue at her. "On the contrary, it means everything. For the fact alone that you all sided with the opposition to rid of me. What clearer evidence is there?"