The wind howled outside Seoul High, sharp and cold like the whispers that never seemed to
stop. Ji-eun sat alone in the library again, staring at the dusty literature book, though she
hadn't turned a page in over ten minutes.
Something wasn't right.
It hadn't been since Min-ho walked out the day before face pale, jaw clenched, eyes stormy
with something unspoken. She could still feel the tension he left behind. It clung to her skin
like a bruise.
And now… the shadows in the library felt thicker.
She shifted in her seat, uneasy. At the far end of the library, past the shelves of forgotten
novels, someone stood.
Watching.
Again.
But when she blinked, the space was empty.
Maybe it's in your head.
But that night, she couldn't sleep.
Not after what she found online.
After hours of searching for school news, she stumbled on a forum thread long buried, nearly
deleted dated three years ago. The post was short, blurred by time:
> "Soo-min didn't transfer. She vanished. No goodbye. Just silence. And Min-ho… he
stopped speaking after that."
Ji-eun's blood went cold.
Soo-min. The name wasn't familiar… but something about it made her skin prickle.
She checked the school records. No Soo-min listed among past graduates. Nothing in
yearbooks. It was as if she'd never existed.
Except… someone remembered her.
And they didn't want her name spoken.
.......
The next morning, Ji-eun barely made it to her locker before another note slipped out.
Not inside the locker.
Inside her book.
The same neat handwriting. The same cold message:
"Stop digging. You're not like her."
Ji-eun's breath caught. Her fingers trembled.
Not like her.
Soo-min.
Whoever was watching her knew she was looking into it. And they were warning her now.
But it only made her want to push further.
During lunch, she found the old librarian the only teacher who had been at the school
more than ten years. A hunched, gentle woman with kind eyes, who paused when Ji-eun
asked:
"Soo-min… do you remember her?"
The librarian hesitated. "That name hasn't been spoken in years."
"What happened to her?"
"She… she was close to someone. A boy." Her eyes darkened. "They say when she vanished,
he changed. Broke."
Ji-eun's heart skipped.
"Min-ho?"
The librarian didn't answer, only whispered: "Don't ask questions you're not ready to hear
the answers to."
That night, Ji-eun walked home alone.
Or so she thought.
But two streets from her apartment, she felt it the prickling on the back of her neck. She
turned quickly.
No one.
She walked faster.
Another note was waiting on her doorstep.
> "You smile like her. Stop."
No envelope. No signature. No explanation.
Just the same thin paper.
And a single red thread… caught in the tape that held it to the door.
—
Somewhere nearby, beneath a hooded jacket and shadows thick as fog… a girl watched.
Not Ji-eun.
The stalker.
Her lips curled in a twisted smile.
"She's making the same mistakes," she whispered.
"She'll end the same way."
To be continued...