It had only been a few days since Hannah agreed to help, but the atmosphere around the Drama Club had already begun to shift. The once chaotic room now buzzed with focused energy. Scripts rustled, brushes swept over costume fabric, and murmurs about blocking and props filled the air. Everything had its place—everyone had something to do.
Hannah sat alone at the back of the room, legs crossed, a sketchpad resting on her lap. She wasn't really drawing—more like scribbling notes and lists while watching the others from the corner of her eye.
She liked this—the background. Helping, but not joining. Quietly present.
She continued writing, jotting down tips she still needed to share with the students. And ideas. But then a soft voice called to her right. Her hand froze mid-word.
She knew that voice.
Looking up, she saw Harin standing a few steps away, a rolled-up script in his hand. He gave a slight nod before sitting on the floor near her—just far enough to seem casual, but close enough to make her pulse tick strangely. It was strange—because the guy with the girl-like face she used to be interested in was sitting this close.
She didn't speak. Just glanced at him, then looked back down at her sketchpad. She might have looked calm, but she was silently praying he'd go away.
She thought, why had he approached her in the first place? The thought of them being in the same room already felt... off.
"I noticed the others have been really motivated lately," Harin began, his voice calm. "They've been quoting your suggestions like gospel."
Hannah didn't look up. "Good for them."
A pause.
"You're really blunt, huh?" he said, almost like he was testing the waters.
"That's what people say." Her pencil stilled, tapping lightly against the page.
The room's noise dulled. Or maybe she just stopped hearing it.
"I thought you were just... someone who liked pointing out flaws," Harin continued, tone softer now. "But the things you said—they weren't just criticisms. They were... detailed. Thoughtful."
That made her glance up.
Thoughtful? Her?
Her eyes met his for a second longer than she intended. Harin didn't look away.
"You noticed things others didn't," he added. "Even I didn't."
She swallowed. "It was obvious."
"Maybe to you."
Another silence, heavier this time. Not uncomfortable, but... close.
"You're not part of any club?" he asked, tone curious, not pushy.
"No."
"But you're here. Helping."
"Your leader insisted."
"You didn't have to, if you didn't want to."
"Do I not look like I was forced?" she replied, too quickly.
She felt the heat rising to her ears. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sketchpad.
Harin gave a small laugh, low and genuine. "You're different from what I thought."
She raised a brow. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
He tilted his head, thoughtful. "Still deciding."
And then he stood up, stretching his arms slightly before he walked away.
Hannah stared at the page in front of her, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the edge of the sketchpad. The corner of her mouth twitched—not quite a smile, more like a hesitation—as if something was stirring inside her, but she couldn't quite place it.
Her hand paused, frozen for a beat, before she absentmindedly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. When she returned to the page, the scribbles before her seemed to blur just a little, her thoughts not quite matching the movement of her pencil.
She hadn't realized she was on the verge of erasing everything she'd written in the past ten minutes.
When she turned a page of her sketchpad, a sudden realization hit her—the notes. She needed to give them to him. Well, not him exactly—it was meant for their leader, but since he was the closest to him, he'd do.
Besides, this was supposed to be her last day helping out, just like they'd agreed. She needed to hand them over and finally be free.
Hannah quickly got up and followed Harin as he stepped out the door. She decided to call out to him when he was already halfway through closing it.
"Wait— the notes! You forgot—" she called out softly, trying to stop the door before it shut.
But just as she reached for it, Levi came from the other side and suddenly pushed it open. The door swung back, catching Hannah off guard.
Harin and Hannah both froze in surprise—but she, caught in a rather unfortunate spot, lost her balance and stumbled forward.
Harin instinctively grabbed her wrist, while Levi, standing to the side, caught her waist to steady her. Hannah, already bracing for impact with her eyes shut, blinked in confusion when she didn't fall.
She found herself in an awkward position, caught between the two of them.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Even without looking, she knew everyone—inside and outside the room—was staring.
Harin, still holding her wrist, noticed she hadn't composed herself like she usually do. In contrast, she had completely frozen—he could even feel her pulse quicken.
He glanced at Levi, who looked equally confused—though clearly amused—then tilted his head slightly toward Hannah.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his eyes lingering on her face. Her hair had fallen over her cheeks, but he didn't miss the slow, rising blush that began to bloom around her ears.
Hannah, slowly recovering, quickly straightened herself with their help. She remained quiet for a few seconds—then, without saying a word, she shoved the sketchpad against Harin's chest and bolted down the hall.
Levi and Harin stared after her, dumbfounded. Then, after a beat—burst into laughter.
It happened so quickly, but somehow, it was hilarious. Especially seeing Hannah—the blunt, composed girl—completely embarrassed.
Levi finally calmed his laughter and nudged Harin. "By the way, what's this?" he asked, gesturing to the sketchpad.
"…Looks like her last set of tips and ideas," Harin said softly, eyes drifting toward the hallway Hannah had run down.
Levi noticed his expression. "What's with that look?" he asked with a teasing grin. "Still thinking about how funny it was?"
Harin smirked faintly. "Heh, no… I guess you didn't see it."
"Huh? See what??"
Harin then began walking in the opposite direction. "It's nothing~"
"Hey, hey! That's not fair! What is it? You were in front—did her face look funny or something?" Levi kept pressing, trailing after him.
Harin just shook his head, the smile still playing on his lips as he recalled the vivid red on Hannah's face.
---
Naomi, busy with her club duties, strolled down the hallway alongside her clubmates. They were chatting casually about their tasks when a strange sound caught their attention—a rapid, muttering voice just around the corner.
The tone was low and unsettling. The words were being spoken so fast that goosebumps ran up Naomi's arms.
"D-Did you hear that?"
"Y-Yeah… It's coming from over there," one of her friends whispered, pointing hesitantly to the corridor ahead. As the muttering continued, it almost felt like a dark mist was swirling around the corner.
Naomi swallowed hard and, gathering her courage, stepped forward. Her friends stayed back, horror written across their faces.
Her steps were slow and heavy as she approached the source. The muttering didn't stop, and with each step, her bravery wavered.
Finally, Naomi peeked around the corner. She spotted a silhouette—dark, eerie, with a chilling aura around it. The second she saw the figure clearly, it lunged toward her and grabbed her shoulders.
"ARGHHHH!" she screamed, eyes squeezed shut.
"N-Na..." the figure whispered.
Naomi squirmed, still refusing to open her eyes. She wasn't ready to face some cursed student from a horror movie.
Then the figure paused... and sniffled.
"Naomi…" the voice murmured again—soft, familiar.
Naomi blinked. "Hannah?!"
The girls behind her screamed softly. From their angle, they thought the figure on top of Naomi was someone unhinged.
"Hannah! What happened?!" Naomi asked, now standing face-to-face with her troubled friend. Hannah's face was slightly flushed, her expression disoriented.
"…I was looking for you," Hannah muttered.
Naomi stared at her, stunned by how hauntingly pretty Hannah looked—even with that dazed, distressed expression.
Hannah, noticing her silence, scowled. Her usual intimidating face crept back in.
"What?" she asked, clearly annoyed.
"You…!~" Naomi exclaimed, slapping her friend lightly on the shoulder. "Why is my friend making that kind of face?!"
She kept slapping Hannah, playful but exasperated. Hannah groaned in pain, trying to dodge her.
As Hannah turned to brush her hair out of her face in frustration, she saw the two students behind Naomi, wide-eyed and whispering like they'd just seen a celebrity.
She stiffened.
"Who are you…? What's your name?" they asked in sync.
"…Hannah. Naomi's friend," she said stiffly.
"Oh! Ms. Opinionated!" one of them cried, pointing excitedly.
The other slapped her hand down. "Don't say it like that!"
"Opinionated…?" Hannah repeated, raising a brow. She glanced at Naomi, who clung to her sheepishly.
Naomi cleared her throat. "Well, I mean… you know you are," she said, trying to play it cool.
Hannah narrowed her eyes but then turned toward the girls again as their starry-eyed admiration made her feel oddly exposed.
"She's really attractive in person!" one of the girls squealed.
*Attractive…?* Hannah blinked.
Naomi grinned. "I know, right?!"
Hannah turned to her with a look of disbelief.
"Her face is delicate but has that masculine charm!"
*Masculine WHAT?* Hannah thought.
"She's got that androgynous thing going on!"
"Pardon?" Hannah finally said, but they ignored her completely.
"She looks just like our idea of the main character!"
"Ohhh, yes! We finally found one!"
The girls gasped. Naomi joined in.
"Right?! Since she's already my friend, no need to convince anyone!"
The three squealed in unison, forming their own chaotic bubble.
Hannah, overwhelmed, broke free from Naomi's grip and stepped between them. "What are you girls even talking about?" she asked firmly.
The three of them looked at her—and grinned.